TITLE: Dancing in the Dark WORD COUNT: 6110 WARNINGS: THIS IS AN AU; angst, emotional crap, sexual content, catch up with part 9 before this one to avoid spoilers, the big reveal (oh, make that two reveals)
You lifted your eyes from the test in your hand and looked at Bucky. He blinked, eyebrows raising as he waited for you to speak. You swallowed, looking back down at the test.
Summary: Steve came home from the war to a wife that could not deal with the emotionally, mentally, and physically changed man before her. Dealing with it the only way he knew how, Steve buried himself in his work. After saving hundreds of lives in one heroic act, Steve finds himself put on bodyguard duty. Also known as a glorified babysitter. It wasn’t easy being the daughter of insanely rich and successful businessman, Phil Coulson. After multiple death threats, your overbearing, worries-too-much father decides you need a bodyguard. Word Count: 1,577 Warnings: Language, angst, blood, violence, explicit sexual content, possibly more to come. Author’s Note:
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
“God, dad,” you grumbled. “Why can’t you just listen to me? I don’t need a damn babysitter! I’m a grown ass woman. I can take care of myself.”
Phil was sitting behind his desk and shaking his head. “You seem to forget the amount of death threats that have been sent to you, Y/N.” The pinched expression on his face meant he was done arguing with you about it.
“They’re empty threats. Nothing more,” you said when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Phil instructed as he stood, fastening the buttons on his suit jacket.
“I apologize for interrupting, sir,” the new arrival apologized gruffly, closing the door behind him.
Your father was wearing his business only smile as he stood in front of the man whose name you didn’t yet know. “No apologies necessary. You must be Steve Rogers.”
“Yes, sir,” Steve responded, shaking Phil’s hand.
Phil started chuckling. “I like you already.”
Steve gave a tight-lipped smile in return, unease rolling off of him in waves.
“Steve, this is my daughter, Y/N,” your father said, motioning toward you as you approached the duo.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Steve greeted you flatly, a soft Irish lilt to his voice, his azure eyes sharp and attentive as they roamed over you in a purely professional matter.
You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Call me by my first name,” you instructed coolly.
“Sorry, ma’am. I can’t do that,” Steve insisted, the previously mentioned accent gaining momentum.
“Don’t tell the man how to do his job,” Phil chastised.
“I’m not telling him how to do his job, I just don’t like -”
Phil cut a glare at you that made the words die on the tip of your tongue. “I assume you’ve been brought up to date, Steve?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve confirmed, eyes lingering on you for a moment before landing on those of Phil. “There are a few questions I have, if that’s alright.”
“Absolutely. Fire away, as it were,” Phil chuckled at his own joke, one that made you roll your eyes again.
Steve cleared his throat at the flare of awkwardness in the room, emanating from Y/N. “I assume all other members of security have been thoroughly vetted?”
“They have,” Phil confirmed. He strolled over to a standing filing cabinet, unlocked the top drawer, and opened it, pulling out three very thick folders, which he then handed to Steve. “Please feel free to look them over. If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
After accepting the files and tucking them under his arm, Steve didn’t wait to ask his next question. “Based on the nature of the threats, I assume ‘round the clock service will be required. Where will I be staying?”
“Twenty-four hours a day, that is correct,” Phil confirmed.
“Dad, you can’t be serious,” you groaned, arms crossed under your chest.
Phil went on as if he hadn’t heard you. “I have rented an entire floor of The William Vale.”
“For how long, sir?”
“As long as necessary, Steve,” Phile answered. “Now, if there is nothing else…”
Steve shook his head as Phil’s voice drifted off. “No, sir.”
You should have known better than to try and break into the conversation. “I have someth-”
“That’s good to hear.” Phil shook Steve’s hand once more before showing him to the door. “I’ve got a full day of meetings ahead of me. I expect a full report on how the first day went.”
“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed, his eyes quickly finding you. “Are you coming, ma’am?”
Gritting your teeth, you grabbed your bag and stormed over to your father. “Have a good day,” you said before brushing a kiss to his cheek. You might have been unbelievably pissed off at him, but the man was still your father.
You were sitting in the backseat of the luxury vehicle, trying to focus on the task at hand; composing a speech to give at an upcoming fundraiser, but your mind was focused on the man in the passenger seat directly in front of you.
When you heard you were getting a bodyguard, you had expected someone middle-aged, soft around the middle, maybe even losing his hair, anyone other than Steve Rogers. He had a head full of dirty blond hair, eyes that could probably drill through cement if he stared hard enough at it, a jaw that flexed in a hypnotizing manner. The man’s shoulders were wide enough that he had to twist before walking through an open door, and you were sure you could hear the seams of his jacket and shirt screaming for help whenever he moved.
Nope, you couldn’t do that; notice the rough beauty of your new bodyguard. Besides, you hated having him around. You didn’t need him, you could go about your days and nights without having someone there at all times. Fucking babysitter.
His eyes met yours in the rearview mirror. “Ma’am, is everything alright?”
Shit, you hadn’t realized you were staring. “Everything’s fine, Steve. I’m just anxious to get to the office.”
Your office was across town, almost as far away from Coulson Industries as you could get without crossing the river. It was a non-profit that catered to the homeless. It wasn’t a shelter, though you had plans for the ground to break on one the following spring, but the center was a safe place, a place they could take a hot shower, get a haircut, find some clean clothes, toiletries, personal items that normal people wouldn’t think to donate, wash whatever items of clothing they wanted to keep. While it wasn’t considered a shelter, there was a room in the back full of beds and cribs. Overnight stays were legally frowned upon, but naps and times of rest were not. You knew you were toeing a line, but you didn’t care. These people and their families were suffering. If no one was going to help them, you would do everything in your power to step up.
Steve nodded before giving your driver instructions. “Take Park.”
“No,” you immediately disagreed. “Pietro has been my driver for the last five years. He knows where he’s going. Stay on the normal route, Pietro.”
“Yes, Y/N,” Pietro acknowledged.
Steve shook his head and repeated his previous instruction. “There’s a forty-five minute delay up ahead, ma’am.”
“You’re not my driver, Steve,” you ground out, rage simmering just below the surface.
He glared at you in the rearview mirror. “No, ma’am, I am not your driver,” he agreed, his accent thicker than before. “I’m your bodyguard, and anyone that is in your father’s employ, will do as I deem fit, as per your father’s instructions… ma’am. Take Park.”
Pietro flipped on the signal and quickly changed lanes, taking the route as directed. He had both hands on the wheel as he pulled off the main road.
Stormy eyes drilled into yours as if daring you to say another word. When you didn’t, he turned his attention to the passing scenery, watching for any kind of danger. Although, you didn’t understand how he could possibly see anything, what with Pietro cruising at a swift seventy miles per hour.
Thirty minutes later, Steve was escorting you through the building, insisting that he go through every door first and do a sweep of the room before allowing you to enter. By the time you got to your office, you didn’t really care if there was some kind of threat behind the door. You just wanted to get in and sit down behind your desk and get some goddamn work done!
Steve had just emerged from the bathroom when you stormed in. “I didn’t give you the all clear, ma’am,” he said tiredly.
You huffed in irritation as you hung up your jacket and scarf. “Believe it or not, I have a deadline to meet today. The time wasted on clearing each and every room I pass through -”
“Is time that you’re not dead,” Steve growled. “Ma’am.”
“Look, you’ve got a job to do, I get it. But, you need to understand that I also have a job to do,” you informed him flatly. You pulled out the notebook and files from your bag with one hand, and flipped on your laptop with the other, your eyes already taking in a plethora of information.
Steve stood there, hands clasped behind his back, his jaw flexing. “I’ll be outside if you need me, ma’am.” His accent was heavier than before, and it made you wonder just how angry he would have to be to slip into full Irish.
After he left your office, Steve found a spot in the center of the large room, and stood there, his back to the wall, his eyes taking in everything that was happening around him, including you inside of your office, clearly visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. You fought down the urge to draw the blinds, to hide from his prying eyes. You had never once drawn them before, having told the employees, volunteers, and those seeking help that you were available at all times, no matter what.
However, with Steve standing guard and his piercing gaze taking in every inch of everything you were doing, following you whenever you left your office, no matter where you were going, it started to make the back of your neck crawl.
God, this whole thing was going to take some getting used to.
Summary: Steve Rogers never imagined he’d be going on a date with his much older boss, Tony Stark. As for Tony, he was used to wining and dining his dates, moving fast and dumping them faster. So how did Steve manage to get under his skin without so much as a kiss goodnight?
Author’s Notes: I have no idea where this came from, but I needed to get it out of my head. I also had no idea who to tag, so I grabbed a few names off of the post I made about this. If you’re interested in a tag, let me know.
***My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.***
Summary: Steve came home from the war to a wife that could not deal with the emotionally, mentally, and physically changed man before her. Dealing with it the only way he knew how, Steve buried himself in his work. After saving hundreds of lives in one heroic act, Steve finds himself put on bodyguard duty. Also known as a glorified babysitter. It wasn’t easy being the daughter of insanely rich and successful businessman, Phil Coulson. After multiple death threats, your overbearing, worries-too-much father decides you need a bodyguard. Word Count: 943 Warnings: Language, angst, blood, violence, explicit sexual content, possibly more to come. Author’s Note: GIF Credit found on Google Images without a source.
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Steve’s back was straight, shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back, chin raised, eyes drilling into a spot on the wall above his commanding officer’s head. He had just been informed that due to his heroic actions the previous Friday, all of his current cases would be transferred to other officers while he went on protective duty.
His charge was Y/N Coulson, and apparently, her life was in danger. Her father, Phil, was a successful businessman, perhaps too successful for his own good. Success brought enemies knocking on the door, and with old man Coulson refusing to cooperate, to bend to his enemy’s whims, his daughter had started receiving threats of all kinds.
Everything Steve had heard about Y/N made him cringe. She was a spoiled rich kid that partied all night and slept all day. She was on the cover of every tabloid magazine in New York, drinking, driving while intoxicated, getting arrested, going to rehab. There was even a quickie wedding in Vegas, followed by an annulment less than a month later; all while Steve was overseas, fighting a war that claimed the lives of his best friends, his brothers. In fact, he would have died if it hadn’t been for Bucky –
“Did you hear me, Rogers?” Pepper demanded to know, yanking Steve from his thoughts.
“Yes, ma’am,” he ground out, Irish accent thick on his tongue. “When do I start, ma’am?”
“Tomorrow morning you will report to Coulson Industries,” she informed him. “Seven am, sharp.”
Steve dipped his chin in confirmation. “Yes, ma’am.” With his molars grinding, Steve turned, and walked across the room.
“And Steve,” Pepper murmured as Steve’s hand fell to the door handle. “Act as if you actually care about her safety.”
“Will do, ma’am,” he said with a tight smile.
“C’mon,” Steve grit out, a hand raking through his hair as the line continued to ring.
Sharon had never let it ring that long before. It had either been sent to voicemail or she had disconnected the call long before. Then again, Sharon had changed in the last eighteen months since Steve had come home.
“Answer the fuckin’ phone.”
Half a ring later, her breathy voice greeted him. “Steve? Wha- what time is it?”
“Shit, love,” he muttered, the digital numbers on the clock catching his attention. “It’s late. I’m sorry, doll.”
“What do you want, Steve?” Sharon huffed, irritation replacing the sleep in her voice.
“Nothin’,” Steve denied a little too quickly for his own good. “I just wanted to talk.”
Sharon gave a disappointed groan. “It’s late, Steve.”
“You don’t think I know that? I just apologized for it,” he snapped, his fingers tightening around the bottle of beer on his thigh. “I just want to talk is all. Can’t we talk?”
“It’s two in the morning,” she argued through her teeth.
“So? We used to stay up all night talking,” Steve remembered bitterly.
Sharon was shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, well, we were young and dumb,” she scoffed. “Goodnight, Steve.”
“No, Sharon,” he ground out. “Please don’t hang up on me. I just want to talk.”
“You’re drunk,” Sharon sighed.
Steve slid the beer bottle onto the counter. “Am not.”
“I didn’t say you were drinking. I said you’re drunk.”
“I am not,” Steve said a little louder than before. “If I were drunk, I wouldn’t be callin’. I’d be passed out in your bed where I belong.”
Sharon let out a heavy breath. “We’ve talked about this, Steve. We can’t… I don’t want -”
“To be with your husband,” he finished for her. “Yeah, I got that bit from the delivery boy you sent.”
“I’m not filing for divorce,” she groaned. “It’s just a -”
“Separation,” Steve scoffed loudly. “Still means you don’t want to be with me. Why not? Can’t you explain it to me?”
“I’m hanging up the phone,” she announced. “Don’t call back or I will call the police.”
Steve’s already-boiling blood surged through him even faster. “I am the police, love.”
“Are you.. is that a threat?”
“No, no,” he stammered. “That’s not what I meant at all, love. I would never abuse my power like that.”
“Goodnight, Steven,” she bit out before disconnecting the call.
“Just wanted to talk,” Steve hollered before launching the phone across the room, sending it into the wall. Bits of glass and plastic littered the floor, which Steve begrudgingly cleaned up, after he finished his beer.
He sat down on the couch, another beer in his hands, his mind whirling around like a tornado. God, he just wanted to go home and be with his wife. Why couldn’t he do that? Why wouldn’t she let him come home?!
Shaking his head, he scoffed irritatedly at himself. He knew why, he just couldn’t believe it.
Steve came home from a war that changed him, and not just physically. He had seen things nobody should ever see, heard things no one should ever hear. His brothers in arms had been blown apart less than ten feet from him, they had been taken prisoner and tortured, videos sent as proof and demands shouted in a language Steve didn’t know. He had seen the life drain from their eyes, he had heard their cries for mercy, and if he closed his eyes, he could still hear every single one of them. Steve was fucked in the head, and Sharon couldn’t handle it.
“For better or worse, my ass,” Steve slurred after finishing off his second six pack of beer.
He stumbled into the bedroom where he fell face first onto the bed and started snoring less than five seconds later.
Warnings: This is oozing with Fluff! The story is narrated from Derek’s POV. Welcome to Derek Hale’s mind! Enjoy!
A/N: I’m experimenting with my narration. Hope y’all lemme know what you think!
(Photos aren’t mine! They belong to their rightful owners!)
I never thought this day would ever come. I’ve been on the run for half of my life. From hunters, then from the FBI. For some time, I’ve looked at the world as a hostile place. It’s never safe anywhere for supernatural beings like me. But now, as I fix my tie, I’m convinced that all of that has changed. I’m getting married to the most beautiful woman in the world today. A smile draws up on the corners of my mouth as I think of that.
I’m facing the window, overlooking the garden where I’ll soon be exchanging vows with Y/N. Scott comes in appearing a little flustered.
“Dude, sorry I’m late. I had to pick up Allison,” Scott says to me.
“Hey, no problem,” I said, as I grab his hand and give him a brotherly bump on the chest. “I’m just glad you could make it, Scott.”
“I still can’t get over the fact that you didn’t make me, your beloved uncle, your best man,” Peter suddenly appears on the doorstep. His expression is pretentiously bothered.
“Call yourself lucky ‘cause I cared enough to invite you to my wedding,” I say to Peter. He then rolls his eyes at me. I shake my head at him then ignore him.
“Looks like I don’t even have so much to do here. You’re all dressed up, and the rings are where they’re supposed to be, and almost everyone’s here,” Scott says to me. I smile at him then look at myself in the mirror while adjusting my tie.
“Just help me make sure I don’t make a fool out of myself today, Scott.”
“Dude! Who knew you’d look fucking handsome in a tux?” Stiles comes to the room rushing in. I can tell he’s pretty excited for me too. I exhale in his humor. That kid hasn’t changed one bit even after college.
“Thanks for coming, Stiles. You better not mess up my wedding day,” I say to him.
“Oh, come on, Derek. The only person who’d probably wanna mess up your wedding day is Kate Argent…” He trails off. “And Miss Blake, probably. And Braeden,” His eyes darting around as he enumerates. “All of your exes, pretty much,” Stiles says, nodding in certainty.
“Hey, no one’s coming to ruin your wedding, man. Don’t worry about it. Argent’s got Kate covered already. Miss Blake won’t be back for you. And Braeden…you know it didn’t work out with you guys,” Scott says to me encouragingly.
“Besides,” Stiles interrupts. “We’ve got the whole pack surrounding us. And if trouble comes, Peter will be the first one to take care of it. Right, Peter?” Stiles looks at where Peter was standing but didn’t find him there or anywhere in the room. “Dude, wasn’t he just here a minute ago?”
“Forget him,” I say to them. “Damn it, I’m so nervous. I wish liquor still had an effect on us.” I rub my palms together in anxiousness.
“It’s that bad, huh?” Scott asks me, grinning amusedly. I think about it.
“I guess so,” I rub my nape as I look at the window again. “Why do I feel like this is scarier than all the chances we had of getting killed?” I turn my back to the window and look at them, expecting an answer. Scott and Stiles look at each other, both still smiling.
“Maybe because you don’t wanna mess it up?” Scott says.
“Yeah,” Stiles adds. “Not just the wedding, dude.” He pats my shoulder.
“The marriage,” Scott finishes. “This is good. It means you’re not gonna hurt her.”
“I’d kill anyone who would,” I say to them, and they both pat my shoulders to release the tension that suddenly elated at the thought.
Finally, the time for the ceremony comes, and my palms are sweating like hell. I stand at the altar beside Scott, anticipating for when my bride, Y/N, finally marches the aisle. Y/N always wanted a rustic garden wedding, and I always wanted to be wed with her. After I had rebuilt my family’s house, we paid tribute to them and decided we get married inside the Beacon Hills Preserve. Y/N said it would be nice to make a new and positive memory to my family’s home. She really thinks of everything.
It’s a perfect day to get married to Y/N. The start of October Fall has brought a good tone to our wedding. Beacon Hills isn’t as dark as it usually is. I quietly glance at everyone we’ve invited. On the right side of the audience are Y/N’s small family and an intimate number of friends. On the left side sit mine: Peter, Cora and her husband carrying their 2-month old baby, Malia, Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa, and Argent. At the back seated are Deaton, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd.
The wedding march begins. The acoustic quartet starts to play a song. And I can’t wait to see Y/N’s figure to emerge from the back of the whole entourage.
Liam happens to be the ring bearer and he marches first. Scott and Stiles decided on it. The flower girl, Cora’s 5-year-old daughter, follows. Then Stiles and Lydia, being the bridesmaid and groomsman. Allison is Y/N’s Maid of Honor and walks alone. The acoustic quartet starts to play ‘Canon in D Major’.
Finally, there she is.
I’ve never seen her look so beautiful. Look at my princess. She looks so perfect in her lace dress. Her little head crowned with flowers. Her mere presence always made me forget of my vicious side. She’s always been the only good thing in my life when things weren’t; when things were hopeless. The pack calls me ‘sour wolf’ but she always calls me ‘sweetie,” always so endearing. Her tone, always so warm when she says my name.
I’m getting married to her but I still wonder how she manages to be so pure, and goofy, and hot all at the same time. I shake my head at that the thought because that’s when she takes a glance at me while she walks the aisle gracefully with her father. God, look at her. Look at the woman I’m about to be married to.
Her father shakes my hand and eyes me the statement, “Take care of my daughter or you know what’ll happen to you.” I finally grab Y/N’s hands. To my surprise, they’re cold too. Her smile is so big and refreshing, and I could hear her heartbeat pounding in her chest. I wish she could hear mine, too. It’s pounding too. It’s pounding strongly just for her. This feeling is beyond my understanding.
“Hey,” Y/N says to me. I say the same thing to her. “You ready?” Her rosy lips draw a grin at me.
“Ever since I met you, babe,” I say to her.
God, I must’ve done something right in this life to be in this moment right now. Here she is, standing in front of me. Those Y/E/C eyes gazing at me, sparkling with excitement and nervousness. The wedding officiant now tells us to exchange vows. I start with mine.
“My dear Y/N, my love for you will always be whole and will never wither, will never doubt you, and will never love another. I’ve loved you since the day you learned my name; especially when you said it repeatedly for the first time because I froze on the fact that you knew my name.
I promise to listen to you. To laugh at your silly, but mostly funny jokes; to listen to your dreams and wishes; to your problems, and worries. I promise to keep you away from insecurities as possible for you have no reason to be insecure. I promise to be there on days you need me. To protect you from harm. I promise to hold you only with gentle hands. I promise to compromise with you in a disagreement. To massage your neck when you need me to. And give you the whole tub of ice cream on a bad day.
Y/N, your eyes make me weak every time they set their gaze on me, but your love makes me strong. I only want to see your smile when I wake up in the morning because it always tells me that everything will be all right. I will always love the way you say my name because it always sounds tender to my ears. I will always love holding your hands because they’re the perfect fit for mine.
You are my anchor, Y/N L/N.
I promise to be with you in your darkest hour. I will hold your hand and embrace you when you feel defeated. I’ll cry with you and binge-watch anything with you. I will always be your best friend, and I will leverage on being your husband from there. I will always respect you, and honor you as my wife, my love, my Y/N,”
Y/N starts with her vows.
“My dear Derek, I still couldn’t believe my eyes that you’re here, exchanging vows with me. It’s almost the same way when I first heard your friends call you ‘sour wolf,’ because you’ve been nothing but sweet and gentle to me. Derek, I love everything that your handsome face does, I even love it when you look annoyed. I love the way you look at me because you look at me with your kind eyes.
Derek, I promise to coax you when you need me to, even if you tell me you don’t. To care for you when you’re hurt or bruised. I promise I won’t pry on things you don’t want to talk about. But if I know that it bothers you, I promise to convince you that we’ll go through it together. I promise to massage your temples on a hard day and be kinder to you during the full moon. I promise not to nag at you when I’m stressed or frustrated.
I promise to listen to your pack stories, your plans, your goals, and dreams. Your thoughts will always matter to me. I promise to stand beside you in times of troubles and impossible things. I promise to trust you when you tell me to. And I promise to put back the toothpaste cap on and squeeze it from the bottom of the tube.
I love seeing you get excited about the things you love and enjoy. I don’t care how different we are, because, to me, we are one.
I’m excited to share so many things with you. Breakfasts, naps, movies, silences, sunrises and sunsets, and the future ahead of us. I’ve loved you with all my heart, Derek Hale, and I always will. The love in my heart will always renew every day, just as the day does with the sun. I promise to cherish you and honor you as my partner in crime and in life; as my husband and soulmate, my dearest Derek.”
I’ve never felt my face so wet with tears since I lost my family. But here she is, Y/N L/N, now taking my name, finally being my new family. Y/N and I both take sharp breaths as we smile at each other, slowly taking in our vows to each other. For a long moment, I forgot that our families and friends are with us at this very moment.
Y/N and I keep our hands holding each other’s as we exchange rings and take each other as husband and wife. Our voices shake as we talk, awaiting the life we’ll live after we say those three words that will change our lives forever.
What do you guys think?? Did I do Derek some justice?? Hope y’all like it! Tell me if you wanna be tagged!
Summary: Thanos’ dark magic and influence has spread farther than anyone dared imagine. While he terrorized the magical world by destroying communities and families, there was one group – The Avengers – that did everything in their power to hunt him down, to destroy him before he came into ownership of all six Infinity Stones. Who knew the answer to their prayers would come in the form of a teenage boy; Peter Parker. Word Count: 2,765 Warnings: Magic, language, fighting, angst, fluff, alcohol, talk of death, talk of torture, explicit sexual content. These warnings will be a staple throughout. Author’s Note: Inspiration for this fic came from this amazing GIFset by @mamalaz. I also wouldn’t have been able to write it without @captain-rogers-beard and @climbthatmooselikeatree. Their unyielding support and assistance has been invaluable. GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Peter was bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously, chewing on the string of his hoodie. “I don’t get why we have to come here,” he pouted, nodding at the pillar between platforms nine and ten.
May looked at her nephew with a brow arched. “If you didn’t keep getting kicked out of school,” she began, voice tight, irritated. “We wouldn’t have to keep moving.”
“I didn’t do it,” he insisted.
It consisted of spray painting the ceiling of Headmaster Phillips’ ceiling with SPIDEY RULES THIS SCHOOL. Spidey just so happened to be Peter’s nickname, a name he earned almost immediately after mastering a spell that gave him spider-like senses, reflexes, and abilities, a spell that no one had been able to duplicate since. No one, that is, except for Peter.
“I know, sweetheart,” May cooed, her gaze turning sweet. “You just… you’re too damn smart for your own good sometimes.”
Peter was confused, his aunt had always said to never stop learning, never dumb himself down, not for anyone. “So… I should pretend I’m something that I’m not?”
“Oh, God, no,” May chuckled. “I’m just… I’m just saying that… God, I don’t even know what I’m saying.”
May was tired, so very tired, and not just from the fourteen hour flight. Taking over the role of mother to her nephew was life-changing, for all parties involved. Peter was just a child when his parents died, struck down in the middle of the night.
They were up late, watching a movie, a movie that Peter had picked out as a reward for getting top marks in his class. He squeezed himself between his mother and father, a large bowl of freshly popped popcorn in his lap, their hands grabbing at the buttery morsels. Try as he might, Peter was asleep twenty minutes later.
It was the silence that woke him, the eerie kind that follows death around, driving chills down the spines of everyone it touched.
There was a blanket over his head, one that smelled anything but clean. It fell to the floor with a wet smack, a sound that Peter only heard after a bath or shower, when his towel was soaked. It didn’t belong, that sound.
Then there was the smell. It turned his stomach, filled his mouth with saliva, pushed bile into the back of his throat. It was thick and overpowering. It was the blood of his mother and father, and it was everywhere. It was tacky, yet it soaked into his socks as he went searching for his parents, it was thick between his toes, rubbing them together with each step.
He found them at the bottom of the steps, the front door in shreds, blown from its hinges, wood splinters pushed into the walls. They looked like they were sleeping, trapped in a nightmare, their eyes pinched shut, hands thrust out in a futile attempt to fight off whoever had killed them.
Whoever it was either hadn’t known Peter was there, or they didn’t care. What Peter did know was that his mother and father had died in order to save him. He would find the witch or wizard and show them the same ‘mercy’ his parents had been shown.
“It’s okay, aunt May,” Peter sighed. “I’ll do my best.”
She pressed a kiss to her nephew’s forehead. “I know you will.”
Steve was standing there, at the head of the class, his hands completely engulfed in flames. Several of the students gasped, hands over their mouths, eyes wide with curiosity. He couldn’t keep from smirking. First years were always easily frightened.
“It’s about control,” he continued. “Not allowing your fear to seep through, otherwise -” the wall that he had built up over the years had started to crumble, just enough for the flames to start flickering.
With a shuddering breath, he clenched his hands and the flames disappeared completely. He could feel their eyes on him, wondering what had happened, what was going to happen. In the blink of an eye, his entire body was on fire, and the students started screaming in terror. Several of them rushed over to Steve, asking what they needed to do, but Steve said nothing.
After one minute, the flames went out. The students circled around him, watching with wide eyes as the angry scorch marks tarnishing his skin and clothes started to fade away.
“Control,” he ground out as he stood. “It’s a pain in the ass to learn, but it can be done.”
The end of class alarm sounded and the students scurried away, harshly whispering about what Professor Rogers had just done. Bucky was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, and a smirk tugging at his lips.
“You enjoy that too much,” he laughed.
“Do not,” Steve scoffed, a hand raking through his longer strands.
Bucky rolled his eyes as he walked through the room, the heels of his boots scuffing on the aged floor. “We’re headed out,” he announced as Steve started sorting through several parchments. “Thought you might like to join us.”
“Oh yeah?” Steve mused. “Sounds fun. Nat gonna be there?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?”
Steve arched a brow as he looked at his friend. “You talk to her since the other night?”
“Not really,” was Bucky’s answer. “Why, what happened?”
“She went off on Wanda about Loki,” Steve informed Bucky as he cleaned up his desk. “Again.”
Bucky sat down on the edge of the first row of desks. “You know how she is.”
“I do,” Steve lamented, a hand on the back of his neck. “But at the same time, she needs to back off of Wan. None of what has happened is her fault, and Nat, she’s like a dog with a bone.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to her,” Bucky sighed. “Are we good for tonight?”
“Let me talk with Wanda first.”
Even though she still seemed a bit rattled from her encounter with Natasha, Wanda agreed that a night out was a good idea, for everyone involved. Tension had been running high since Steve and Wanda encountered Loki, and not just between the normally tight knit group of friends; it was all over the place.
Attacks on the magical – and non-magical alike – had risen drastically; no one was being spared in the wake of Thanos’ rage. He would do anything, kill anyone, destroy everything if it meant he was in control of the Infinity Stones.
It was confirmed that Thanos was in possession of two; the power and space stone. Being a Titan, Thanos was extremely powerful, but with the power stone, he was damn near unstoppable. If he got his hands on the other four, their world, as they knew it, would be over.
So, drinks it was. Drinks, and good company. For the most part.
As soon as Natasha laid eyes on Wanda, her demeanor changed. Her shoulders straightened, her eyes rolled before turning her back to the couple, and she ignored them for the rest of the night.
Steve pressed a kiss to Wanda’s crown. “Let’s ignore her right back, okay?”
Wanda agreed with a chuckle, her hand on Steve’s chest as she turned, looking up into his cerulean eyes. “Go and sit by the fire. I will get us something to drink.”
Steve did as she directed, headed toward the fire where his friends were seated. Out of the group, Clint saw him first.
“‘Bout time you got here, Cap,” he called out, wearing a giant smile.
Steve gave the man a quick hug before saying, “Good to see you. How ya been?”
“Busy, man,” was his answer. “Just got in from Romania where we had to fight off some poachers.”
Bucky growled and shook his head. He hated dragon poachers with every fibre of his being. Just the thought of someone hunting down the beautiful creatures made his blood boil. “Tell me no dragons got hurt.”
“We only lost two,” Clint informed Bucky solemnly. “The rest we were able to bring back to the reservation.”
“And the poachers?” Steve asked.
Anger flickered in Clint’s moss eyes. “A handful got away, but I have a good idea of where they’re headed next, and who’s in charge.”
Wanda appeared at Steve’s side, drinks in her hands. “Who is it?”
“Ulysses Klaue,” Clint answered darkly.
The drinks fell from Wanda’s hands, the bouncing of the metal glasses silent due to the roar of blood in her ears. Her hands started shaking, flickering with red energy, embers dancing along her skin. It couldn’t be, not Ulysses. She had to have heard wrong.
“Fuck,” Steve muttered as he turned to his girlfriend. “Wanda, breathe, doll. Just breathe.”
“What’s happening?” Clint wanted to know, peering around Steve. “Is she okay?”
Steve stayed focused on Wanda, on trying to get her to calm down, but it didn’t appear to be working; she was panicking, too far gone to be able to pull back.
“Klaue was the man that took her and Pietro,” Bucky answered as he shoved out of his seat.
“Shit,” Clint ground out. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”
Steve ignored Clint as he cupped Wanda’s face. “Baby, come back to me.”
Unbridled rage flooded through her, white-hot, like a live wire, desperately looking for the man she held responsible for the monster she had become. Her entire body was thrumming with power, no doubt lashing out at the man in front of her.
“We need to get her out of here,” Bucky grit out.
The other patrons were staring and pointing, some even reaching inside their frocks for their wands. The last thing anyone needed was for there to be another incident.
Steve ripped his hands away from Wanda, hissing at the electrical spark that snapped painfully against his fingertips. “It ain’t gonna be easy.”
Out of nowhere, Wanda’s body was jerked away and sent flying out the front door.
“Problem solved,” Nat sneered.
Steve strode over, murder in his eyes, hands balled into fists at his sides. “Don’t ever do anything like that again. You hear me, Natalia?”
The woman who had earned the moniker of the Black Widow glared up at Steve. “I just saved everybody in here.”
“You don’t touch her,” he warned. “Or so help me, I’ll -”
“What? You’ll what, Steve?” Her dark eyes roamed over Steve’s face, his features contorted in anger.
When Steve didn’t move or say anything further, Nat gave a knowing smile. “That’s what I thought.”
Steve gave a growl low in his throat before turning away and heading toward the door, but Natasha wasn’t done with him just yet.
“What would Peggy think of what you’re doing, of who you’re doing?”
He stood there, flames licking at the surface of his skin as his anger stormed out of control. The only reason he didn’t turn around and unleash hell upon the bitchy redhead was Bucky. His friend had come up behind him and clapped him on the back.
“Let it go, brother,” Bucky suggested. “Go make sure Wanda is okay.”
“She better not be here if we come back,” Steve seethed, flames dancing in his eyes.
“She won’t be,” Bucky vowed.
Steve strode outside just as Wanda was pulling herself out of the water. Her teeth were chattering and her skin was pale, her eyes appearing sunken and dark.
“You’re okay. I got you,” he murmured, tearing off his jacket and wrapping it around her shaking form.
“Ta- take m- me ho- home,” was all she said.
They disappeared from the oceanfront with a loud crack, one that echoed throughout the village, one that scared some of the birds, appearing less than a second later in their cozy living quarters within the castle.
Steve set Wanda in front of a roaring fire, one that snapped and popped to life with a flick of his wrist. While she sat there, her head cocked to the side, her mind folding in on itself, Steve set about making her favorite tea, the one she drank when she couldn’t stop crying about Pietro, or when the nightmares got too bad to sleep, or when she was convinced she was having prophetic visions about a desolate future.
He was by her side five minutes later, wrapping an arm around her, making sure she drank the brown liquid that shimmered in the light of the fire. Wanda would make small noises of appreciation when she drank, though her eyes remained fixed on the dancing flames.
Steve removed her boots and socks, setting them on the hearth. Turning back, he moved slowly as he approached her, and started removing her soaked garments, wrapping her in a thick blanket once she was naked. Knowing how much she loved skin-to-skin contact, he worked quickly to rid himself of his clothes, joining her within the confines of the blankets several short moments later.
Wanda could feel Steve’s heart on her cheek as they lay there, on the floor, surrounded by blankets and pillows. With his hand drawing nonsensical patterns on her back, she tipped her head back and scratched her nails through his beard. Steve gave a hum of contentment as he looked down at her.
She pushed up, using his shoulder for leverage, and smeared her lips against his. Steve let out a stuttering sigh, tangled a hand in her hair, and pulled her body flush against his as their lips met. As their tongues danced, Wanda slid a hand down Steve’s chest and stomach, and scraped her nails through the short curls before palming Steve’s half-hard cock. Her power skittered along her fingertips, up and down his shaft as she worked him, until he was achingly hard, throbbing and red.
Steve’s thick fingers scraped and tickled her breasts, sides, and stomach before dipping between her legs. He couldn’t stop from moaning when his fingers slid easily between her slicked folds, or the way her body tightened around his two digits when they pushed into her heat.
The two were a writhing, moaning mess by the time Wanda straddled Steve, lowering herself onto his weeping and throbbing cock. Steve gripped her hips as their bodies started rocking together, as they pushed and pulled, their moans and grunts filling the room, echoed by the sounds of wet skin sliding together.
Wanda was close to shattering, a flicker of red squeezing and circling her clit, using her power to catapult herself over the edge. She came with a strangled cry of Steve’s name, back arched, head thrown back, hands gripping Steve’s thick thighs. His feet were planted on the floor as he pounded up into her tightening pussy, falling over the precipice himself moments later, her name gruff and dark on his tongue.
Completely sated, Wanda felt boneless as she rolled to Steve’s side, leaving her leg draped over his thigh.
“She does not like me very much, does she?” Wanda asked hoarsely.
Steve pulled in a ragged breath. “Natasha’s never been much of a people person,” he tried to explain.
Truth be told, Nat was an untrusting bitch that had started second-guessing everything from the moment Wanda escaped Thanos’ clutches. The woman was damn near paranoid, and for good reason. There had been many double, even triple agents in Hogwarts’ battle of good versus evil.
Steve was absolutely positive that Wanda wasn’t like them, she would never betray her friends, the people that she had grown to love. He couldn’t say the same thing about Nat, his friend since their first year at the wizarding school.
Curling his finger under Wanda’s chin, Steve’s eyes scanned her face. “Whatever Nat thinks about you doesn’t matter.”
“But what you think of me does,” she whispered, tears clouding her vision.
“Hey, hey,” Steve murmured. “I love you, Wan. Ain’t nothing that can change that.”
“I was a weapon, Steve. I ki- killed people, good people.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed away her tears. “That’s not you anymore, doll. You’re good.”
“What if I -”
“No. There is no ‘what if’,” he interrupted sternly, nudging her nose with his. “You won’t go back. I won’t let you. I won’t, I can’t lose you, too.”
Wanda choked on a sob at the desperation in his voice, at the love shimmering in his eyes. She knew that no matter how long she was away from Thanos, from Loki and the Death Eaters that she would be scarred, mentally and physically, that she had a hell of a long road ahead of her. But, if Steve was at her side, she knew she could do it.
“You won’t lose me,” she vowed before kissing him.
A/N: Hello, hello! This chapter really got away from me and got extra long but I really like where it ended up! Flashback is in italics. Let me know what you think! You can find the series masterlist here and my main masterlist here. You can ask for a tag here!
A/N: Hello hello! My classes have switched over to a lighter load until the end of the year so maybe I’ll be able to post more soon! For those of you that aren’t into this story- fear not! I’m gonna get working on some oneshots for Steve or maybe Chris Evans. In the meantime, you can check out my masterlist here or this series masterlist here. Please feel free to ask for a tag here.
The next morning, you woke up before Josh so you quickly got into the shower. Peggy had texted you the night before with the details of your outing so you knew you had some time to get ready. You slipped into your chosen casual outfit for the day and you ventured out of the bathroom.
Josh was sitting on the bed, back propped against the headboard, smiling down at his phone.
“Hey, I’m going out with the girls for a bit and we’re probably gonna eat lunch while we’re out. And then we’re going to all go to that bonfire so I’ll text you when I’m on my way to get you?” you asked him gently.
“Oh right,” he said, not looking up from his phone. “I was thinking I’d stay here tonight and skip the bonfire. I’ve got some work to finish up.”
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC I Word Count: 5212 Warnings: Fluff, Bucky being Bucky, smexy
This chapter brought to you care of @diinofayce through Coffee Updates. Thanks for your support, hun!
Bucky shuddered gently against Penny, while his mind whirled with her revelation. “You have to tell Steve.”
“I can’t. Not just yet.”
"Penelope Grace,” he growled against her neck.
“Bucky. Not just yet. I’ll tell him when I’ve gone through all the options, but until that time, how can I place more stress on him? He’s off saving the world. He doesn’t need to be thinking about me while he’s doing it.”
"Penny…” Bucky sighed and looked at her, but gave up when she gave him the stubborn face.
"I’m not giving up, Buck. I won’t. I promise, but I have to do this my way.”
"Stubborn as a mule,” Bucky grumbled, tugging her close so he could rest his cheek on the top of Penny’s head.
"Ma’am? Sorry to interrupt,” Friday said into the silence. "The detective is back, and he brought friends.”
Bucky growled a second time against Penny, far more feral and angrier than before. "What kind of friends?”
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is the youngest Senator in New York. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, he’s down to earth, and is deeply in love with his wife; Y/N Barnes. His dreams consist of having kids, helping find a cure for cancer and AIDS in his lifetime, and one day, sitting at a desk in the Oval Office. It’s good to go after your dreams, right? Not if you’ve got one hell of a secret. Word Count: 1,870 Warnings: Language, heavy angst, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood and gore, not for the light-hearted. Author’s Note: GIF Credit [X]
My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.
Steve stormed into Bucky’s office and slammed his hand down on the desk, leaving behind a piece of paper. “Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” he seethed, nostrils flaring, shoulders twitching.
“It’s good to see you, too, Steve,” Bucky scoffed.
Wanda ran into the room, apologizing profusely. “I’m sorry, Senator. I couldn’t stop him.”
Bucky gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay, Ms. Maximoff. Please close the door behind you.”
“Yes, sir,” she sighed wearily.
Once the door was closed, Bucky turned his gaze to his former best friend. “Where were we?”
“You were going to explain to me how that,” he thrust his finger at the paper, “found its way to Aisling’s headstone!”
Bucky picked up the note with an annoyed huff. Happy Anniversary was written in beautiful, flowy, cursive lettering. He flipped it over and looked at the back, but there wasn’t anything there, not that he expected there to be.
“I don’t know anything about it, Steve,” he announced.
“Bullshit,” Steve grit out through his teeth. “It’s been twenty-one years since she died, Buck.”
Bucky’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “You think I’ve forgotten? Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her, man. I’m really sorry ab-”
“Save your meaningless apology. Did you write that?” he demanded to know.
“Absolutely not,” Bucky denied, thrusting the sheet of paper at Steve. “Why on earth would I do something like that?”
One of Steve’s shoulders bobbed up and down. “Maybe crazy runs in the family.”
“I’m nothing like him,” the senator growled. “He was certifiable.”
“Explain that then.” Steve pointed to the note that was sitting precariously on the edge of the desk.
“I didn’t do it.”
Steve rolled his eyes dramatically. “Then it has to be him. He killed her, Buck. He killed my little sister.”
“Steve, he’s dead,” Bucky insisted. “It can’t possibly be him.”
“What if -”
“Maybe you got yourself a stalker, Steve,” Bucky interrupted angrily. “Some twisted psycho got attached to you during the campaign. I don’t fuckin’ know, man. It wasn’t me, and it sure as hell wasn’t my dead brother.”
Steve went to argue further, but Bucky slammed a button on his desk phone. “I need Thor.”
Three seconds later, the large blonde entered the room. “Senator,” he greeted his boss while glaring at Steve. “What seems to be the problem?”
Steve clenched his jaw painfully as he carefully weighed his options. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, Senator. I’ll see myself out.”
Thor only moved out of Steve’s way when Bucky nodded his head.
“Will there be anything else?” Thor asked his boss once Steve had left.
“No” Bucky answered. “Thank you.”
After Thor closed the door, Bucky grabbed the paper off the edge of his desk and stared hard at the writing. Who would do something like that? It was downright cruel and, even though he and Steve hadn’t been friends since they were teenagers, it made his blood boil.
“Wanda, I need you to clear my calendar for the rest of the day,” he instructed after picking up the phone.
“I can’t do that, Senator,” Wanda said meekly. “You have an important interview this afternoon, remember?”
“If you cancel it today, you won’t be able to meet with them for another six months,” she admitted.
Bucky’s head fell back as he groaned. “Fine. Clear everything else but that.” He didn’t wait for a confirmation before he hung up.
Even though it wasn’t yet eleven, Bucky poured himself a shot of whiskey. He swallowed it quickly, hissing at the trail it blazed down his throat and chest. He thought about another one, but decided against it, only because he absolutely adored the New York Space Alliance. The last thing he needed to do was show up drunk.
After dropping back into his chair, he fired up his laptop and did a search for the contact information of the asylum where his brother had died. He had no idea why he was even toying with the idea; calling the facility, asking them to confirm that yes, his brother had died twenty years ago, that there was no possible way they could have made a mistake.
Dannemora, just seeing the name of it on his screen made him anxious. Even as he reached for the phone and started dialing the number, he couldn’t believe he was doing it.
“This is stupid,” Bucky muttered to himself as the line rang.
“Clinton Correctional Facility,” someone said on the other line.
Bucky slammed the receiver down and shook his head. His brother was dead, his parents had said so, and Bucky had attended the closed-casket funeral. Whatever was happening to Steve had nothing do with the Barnes family. Nothing whatsoever.
That didn’t stop his mind from wandering around, exploring all kinds of asinine possibilities and scenarios. He was so lost in thought that he jumped when the phone buzzed.
“The car is waiting for you, Senator,” announced Wanda.
“Ye- yeah, thank you. I’ll be right out.” He gave himself a mental shake before leaving his office. He could do this. He just needed to concentrate.
Mornings were the perfect time to get out and enjoy the crisp air. So, you started out the day with a nice walk around the neighborhood, with Peter, of course. You never went anywhere without one of the bodyguards; hazard of being married to a senator.
You hadn’t expected to stay out so long, but by the time you realized what time it was, two hours had flown by, and you had worked up a sweat. When you got home, you headed upstairs to take a shower so you didn’t scare off the children in the hospital when you made a visit in a couple hours.
While washing your face, you heard a noise that didn’t belong. “Bucky, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered from the bedroom.
You wiped the water from your face and stuck your head out. “What are you doing back? Is everything okay?”
“I forgot something, is all,” he explained.
You gave a chuckle before disappearing into the stream of water to wash your hair. “Hey, you have that interview today with the Space Alliance. Are you excited?”
“Of course I am,” was his joyful answer. “You know how much I love space.”
“It always surprised me that you never pursued astronomy.”
“I wanted to.”
You watched through the opaque curtain as he came into the room and stood in front of the sink. “It would have been exciting.”
“A lot more exciting than where I’m at now,” he agreed. “Instead of doing it, I’m talking about it.”
You’d never heard Bucky talk like that. He loved being a senator, said he wouldn’t change a thing about his career if given the chance. “You feeling alright, love?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” he sighed. “I should head back to the office.”
“See you tonight,” you called out.
When he didn’t answer after several moments, you poked your head out of the shower. “Bucky? Are you there?”
Peter was in the room a split second later. “You okay, ma’am?”
“Yeah, I was just talking with Buck.”
“The senator isn’t here, ma’am,” Peter informed you, confusion furrowing his brows.
“He just left,” you scoffed. “You had to have seen him.”
The bodyguard shook his head. “No, ma’am. I haven’t seen him since he left early this morning.”
“Will you -” You didn’t get a chance to finish because Peter ground out a curse.
“Stay right there,” he ordered hoarsely, a gun appearing in his hand as he left the room.
Despite the warm water cascading down your body, a chill ran through you, the kind that made your teeth chatter. You turned up the temperature, but it did little to warm you completely.
After ten long minutes that felt like hours, Peter came back, the gun in its holster, assuring you that no one else was in the house. “The security system is on, ma’am, and nothing is out of order.”
“Did you call Bucky?”
“The first thing I did when I got out in the hall,” he said grimly. “But Wanda wouldn’t patch me through. Something about Steve being there.”
“Thank you. I, uh, I need to finish up in here. Could you wait outside of the bedroom please?” you asked, praying he couldn’t hear the way your voice was shaking.
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter confirmed.
The hot water started to grow tepid, so you quickly finished showering. While you got dressed and dried your hair, you ran over what had just happened. Part of you firmly believed that Bucky had been in the bathroom with you, holding a conversation, but then there was the part of you that heard Peter say that Bucky was in his office with Steve at that time. There was no way Bucky could have come home, talked with you, and made it back across town all in, what, a five minute window?
You emerged from the bedroom almost fifteen minutes later, and you knew you didn’t look like you were in the mood to go anywhere.
Peter looked down at you with worry flickering in his eyes. “You okay, ma’am?”
“Honestly?” you scoffed. “I don’t know. Are you sure Bucky wasn’t here?”
“Positive. Wanda said that Steve had been in the senator’s office for almost five minutes.” That wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was confirmation that you had to have imagined the whole thing.
Your sleep pattern had always been a little off, so to say that you didn’t have a conversation you could have sworn you had with someone wasn’t far from the truth. Granted, it hadn’t happened a whole lot, but it had happened.
“If you want to be there on time, we should go,” Peter said softly.
“I know,” you sighed, your eyes falling closed. If you kept them closed for too long, you’d fall asleep standing up. Another thing you’d somehow managed to do in your life.
With your eyes open, you blew out a heavy breath. “Right, let’s get going.”
It had been easier than he thought, planting the first seeds of doubt.
Leaving a note on Aisling’s headstone brought about the exact reaction he had hoped for; Steve storming off, rage boiling in his eyes. Of course he had gone straight to Bucky, searching for the truth; that the murderer was exacting his revenge.
Next was Y/N. Getting into the senator’s house was easier than it should have been, the security code too easy to guess; Y/N’s birthday. They should really get that changed, but not until after he was done tearing apart their lives. It was only fair after what Bucky had done to him.
He waited until Y/N and that idiot Quill to get into the towncar before emerging from his hiding place; a dark corner in the garage that Peter had literally walked past in his search for the intruder, the one that Y/N had sworn was her husband. It was almost comical to watch.
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