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: 907 Warnings: Language, heavy angst, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood and gore, not for the light-hearted. Author’s Note: GIF Credit [X]
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Blood. It had a tendency to get into the nooks and crannies; under his nails and cuticles, deep into the wrinkles of his knuckles. There was one time he even got some behind his ear; one lone drop of the crimson liquid. Despite all of the annoyances, he loved the way it felt on his skin; all slick and warm, like a bubble bath.
His fascination for it started at a young age, younger than most sociopaths in society; he was just four years old when he found out just how much pressure to apply to watch the family’s cat’s eyes burst out of its head. His mother had fainted, his brother had cried, and his father had screamed at him until he was red in the face.
Red. The color of blood. A color he was now completely enamored with. It was a color that he wanted to dive into head first. He wanted to take it apart, break it down to the last molecule to truly understand his newfound fascination.
Blood. It was spilling out of the gash in the orderly’s neck like a river that had broken the dam. Nothing could stop it, not even the hand that was clamped to the wound; the blood just rushed through the man’s fingers. His mouth was open, ragged gasps of protests coming out in the form of bloodied bubbles where they popped on the edge of his chapped lips.
The orderly tried to go back the way he had came, but his patient had already closed the door and was standing guard, a murderous gleam in his eyes and a paring knife gripped in his hand. How he had gotten it, the orderly didn’t know. All objects such as that were kept under lock and key, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year.
“P… ple… please,” the orderly rasped as he fell to his knees.
He didn’t move from his spot, just stared at the man whose throat he had just slashed. He had picked this orderly specifically; they were roughly the same height and weight, same color eyes, even had similar bone structure. If he hadn’t know better, he would have thought they were related.
The orderly was on his back now, all color drained from his face, his eyes glassy, pupils blown wide. Gargled gasps were the only thing that broke the eerie silence. That was, until the last drop of the orderly’s blood left his body.
Blood. It was everywhere; thick, pungent, black. Like small waves upon the shore, the pool of it spread toward the patient. He bent down, head cocked to the side, a smirk on his lips. He didn’t touch it, didn’t want to taint the scene. It needed to be perfect.
He stepped around the orderly and undressed him, careful not to disturb the blood too much. After removing his clothes, he put on the orderly’s sweat-stained uniform, dressed the orderly in the clothes he had been wearing, and swapped out the socks and shoes. Once that was done, he dropped to his knees next to the orderly, placing the blade in the orderly’s hand
“Help me,” he shouted, covering the no-longer-leaking wound. “Somebody please! Code black. We have a code black.”
When the alarms went off, he couldn’t help but smile. His plan was working, he just needed an extra touch. He covered part of his face with blood.
Multiple sets of feet pounded down the hall, bursting into the room a moment later.
“Jesus Christ.”
He looked over his shoulder with wide eyes. “Don’t just fuckin’ stand there, Rumlow,” he ordered. “Get your ass over here and help me.”
It was two hours later by the time he was free.
After telling the head of the facility that he quit, that what had just happened was too much for him to handle, he drove away from the institution in a car that wasn’t his, wearing clothes that smelled like week-old whiskey and stale cigars. The radio was playing some shitty country music, but not for long.
With a groan, he changed the station, stopping cold when he heard a familiar voice.
“Senator Barnes,” the reporter started, the smile evident in her voice. “You’ve said that you hope a cure for cancer and AIDS is found in your lifetime.”
“I have,” James confirmed. “While deaths related to HIV/AIDS has declined due to improved HIV therapies, people with AIDS remain at elevated risk for cancer and cancer deaths. Then there’s cancer. It In 2018, an estimated 1,735,350 new cases of cancer will be diagnosed in the United States and 609,640 people will die from the disease. The number of cancer deaths is 163.5 per 100,000 men and women per year, based on 2011–2015 deaths.”
“That’s terrible,” she lamented.
The driver shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Just fuckin’ terrible.”
James gave a hum of agreement. “Amazing strides have been made in the last decade alone, but there is so much more that can be done. And I want to be a part of that.”
“Jesus,” he groaned and flipped off the radio. “Self-righteous asshole.”
Blood. God, he loved the stuff. He loved the way it slicked over his skin, got under his nails and cuticles, the thick and almost overpowering smell of it. He couldn’t wait to get his revenge, to bathe in the blood of James Buchanan Barnes.
Parenting is hard. To some it comes naturally yes, but even they struggle too. Does needing a break make you a bad parent? No! It makes you human.
You have your ups and downs, good times and bad. Sometimes things are easy and others are not, it’s ok.
-It’s ok to feel frustrated.
-it’s ok to feel overwhelmed.
-it’s ok to cry.
-it’s ok to need a break.
The list can go on and on. IT. IS. OKAY.
you are human. Parents make sure their children are loved, dressed, bathed, and all their needs are met. You worry. You sacrifice so much, you put their kids safely well being, and needs are met. You always try to put them first, and you always try to what you think is best.
Needing something or some time for you. Does NOT make you a bad parent.
Parenting isn’t easy.It is a struggle. You are NOT alone.
There are books bout raising kids but none of them are truly how to operate. Each child is different. Each parenting style is different.
If it was easy everyone could do it, there wouldn’t be such a need for foster care.
You are amazing. You are strong. You are loving. And you are human.
So take that break, enjoy some you time. You love your children but you also need to remember to love yourself.
Seriously @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan how do you come up with these storylines? So creative and imaginative and…would you please tag me in Double Entendre?
Part of having Attention Deficit Disorder is that my brain is constantly going, trying to come up with all the new things.
Also, @climbthatmooselikeatree has been sending me pictures of Sebastian that give her Senator vibes.
Unfortunately, I’m still unable to tag you. If you want, you can follow my writing only blog @mad-for-marvel and selecting ‘Get Notifications.’ I only post fanfiction there.
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