Double Entendre: One

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: 1,500
Warnings: Language, heavy angst, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of blood and gore, not for the light-hearted.

Author’s Note: GIF Credit [X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

“Don’t fret, doll,” Bucky cooed, watching as you smoothed the dress against your stomach. “You look beautiful.”

You glanced at him in the mirror as you finished putting the final touches on your hair. Next, you slipped on a pair of heels that you felt completed the outfit, then made your way across the large room where you helped him with his black bowtie.

“As do you,” you complimented him with a smirk.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re the beautiful one in this relationship,” he murmured. Once you were done with his tie, he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and put it on.

You smoothed the fabric over his shoulders and down his chest. “So what does that make you?”

“The brains, remember?” he teased.

“Oh, yes,” you murmured, relishing in the comforting weight of his arms as they looped around your waist. “How could I possibly forget?”

Just when your husband was about to dip his head and kiss you, there was a knock at the door.

“Senator and Mrs. Barnes,” Wanda interrupted. “It’s time.”

It didn’t matter that the fundraiser you were about to attend was the fourth one in a month, or that you had lost count of the number of events you had joined Bucky in during his career, nerves still bubbled in your belly.

You blamed it on the crowds; too many people packed inside of a room that was close to bursting at the seams. It made your skin crawl, but you never let it show. You were the wife of the youngest senator in New York; it was your job to be there, to support him no matter what.

The only thing that got you through it was Bucky. His presence, his hand in yours, on the small of your back, his lips on your cheek, his rich laughter, the way he smiled when he talked about you, about anything that he loved; it kept you calm and centered, feeling as if you could do anything.

At that moment, however, Bucky’s attention was on Steve; the man he had beaten in the election.

“Rogers,” Bucky greeted with a firm handshake. “Good of you to join us.”

“Barnes,” Steve grit out. “Couldn’t miss another one of your soirees.”

“What, this?” Bucky questioned, gesturing around the room. “This is all Y/N.”

You waved your hand. “I just did the planning.”

Peggy handed you a glass of red wine. “You did an amazing job.”

You gave her a warm smile. “Thank you,” referring to the wine and the compliment.

“Just think, darling,” Steve said flatly as he looked at his wife. “This could have been one of our parties.”

“Steven,” she hissed, her brows knitting together. “This is neither the time or the place.”

You exchanged a worried look with your husband.

It wasn’t news that Steve was bitter about losing the election, but he had never said anything about it during an event such as this. At least, not that you had been aware of. Most of his complaints had been during interviews, a brief moment of negativity here and there, brushed aside with a forced laugh or an, “I’m only kidding. I love the guy.”

Thinking quick on his feet, Bucky reminded the couple of the silent auction. “Have you guys had a chance to check everything out?”

“There are some gorgeous items,” Peggy noted, a thankful tone to her voice. “Come on, Stevie. Let’s go look.”

The tall blonde rolled his eyes before giving in. “Alright, alright.”

“That was a close one,” you huffed quietly as soon as they were gone.

“A little too close,” your husband confirmed. “Did you have to invite him?”

Standing in front of him, you pretended to fix his tie. “The two of you used to be best friends, Buck.”

“That was a lifetime ago, Y/N. You know that.”

You could smell the whiskey on his breath, not that it was a bad thing. “Politics suck.”

“Mrs. Barnes,” he gasped playfully. “Better not let anyone hear you say that.”

Wanda appeared out of the room designated for the silent auction. “The results so far,” she said with a smile, holding out a small tablet for the two of you to see.

“Wow,” you chuckled in disbelief. “I never thought we’d see close to these kind of numbers.”

Bucky pressed a long kiss to your temple. “I’m tellin’ ya, babe, you’re a genius. Especially when it comes to things like this.”

Before you could thank him or even think to stop him from doing something crazy, Bucky was sprinting across the room and standing in front of the microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he proclaimed happily. “I hope everyone is having a wonderful time so far.”

Everyone in the room clapped their hands, most of them gave a low cheer, and a handful of people showed a bit more excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh at the supportive roars of Clint and Sam, Bucky’s closest friends.

“I know the night’s barely begun, but I just got word that we’re already three-quarters of the way to our goal,” Bucky announced, a wide grin on his face. “However, the night is still young and I know that there are those of you that have very deep pockets.”

There was a ripple of laughter throughout the room, including your husband.

“So, what do you say? Open those checkbooks, get out your black AmEx, and let’s obliterate the goal of three million!”

He made sure to stick to the shadows, to stay hidden from anyone that might recognize him. Was it dangerous to be out in public at a time like this? Hell yeah, it was, but that was exactly why he did it. The rush of adrenaline that made his heart hammer was addictive, made him want to rush out and show his face, to revel in the shrieks of disbelief, the look on the Senator’s face when they were finally face-to-face.

Despite all of that, he stayed there, at the back of the room, tucked into a corner, nursing a full glass of whiskey that had been left at the table by some rich-ass loser. It was the perfect spot, because from his seat, he could see everyone and everything.

He watched as couples danced, as they mingled and laughed, as the went into the room off to the side and bid obscene amounts of money, showing off their worth in a disgusting manner. He found himself wanting to stride in there and slit every one of their throats, wanted to feel their blood on his skin; slick and warm.

Blood. It was the driving force behind the whole thing; him breaking out of the asylum, enacting his revenge. It was the only reason he was alive. It was the only reason he was going to kill Bucky.

God, that man was pretentious. It made his blood boil, and Bucky wasn’t even really doing anything. The senator was just standing there, talking to his wife and a couple of friends. No, that wasn’t right; Steve was anything but a friend.

Steve was the man that Bucky beat in the election. It wasn’t even close, either. Bucky won by an alarming seventy percent of the votes. No senator before him had done that. It was a time for celebration, a time for change in the state of New York, in the town of Brooklyn.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the man of the hour proclaimed. “I hope everyone is having a wonderful time so far.”

The man cringed and sneered as people clapped, as they cheered, as several of them gave bellowing whoops.

“I know the night’s barely begun, but I just got word that we’re already three-quarters of the way to our goal,” Bucky announced, grinning like a cat that ate the canary. “However, the night is still young and I know that there are those of you that have

very

deep pockets.”

Disgust rocketed through the man in the corner as laughter rippled through the room.

“So, what do you say? Open those checkbooks, get out your black AmEx, and let’s obliterate the goal of three million!”

What a gross display the night was; people clamoring at the over-priced vacations and massages and beauty packages and hunting weeks away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It made the man in the corner sick to his stomach at the sight of it all; the way these people were throwing away their money, and for what? A stupid organization that boasted how it could save the lives of thousands who were sick.

Those people were sick for one reason, and one reason only; it was God’s way of cleansing the world. He did it before; the flood, famine, incurable diseases. That’s what it was, nothing more, nothing less. If only they would listen.

The former patient would make them listen; Bucky and his wife, if it was the last thing he would do.

TWO

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @stevieang @sunriserose1023 @feelmyroarrrr @moderapoppins @nomadstevergxrs @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @fatalcrossbow @phoenixwench @cattfeine @jbarnes87 @shynara51 @kanupps06 @girl-next-door-writes @palaiasaurus64 @supermarvelbrivalentine5sos @mcdanno71 @female-accountant @badassbaker @mittenskittie @icysquares @jobean12-blog @bella-ca @brieannakeogh @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @speakinvain @diinofayce @pebblesz892 @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @prettybubblesintheair @unlikelygalaxygiver @andiyholly @everythingisoverrated @akamaiden @glitterquadricorn @carls1022 @marvelellie @neeadinghugs @minahraven @gigistorm @sea040561 @universal-death-of-a-fangirl @tinyfistwarrior @brastrangled @xtina2191 @buckysothiccbarnes @jessica-bones-winchester @iamthemaskhewears @wheresthekillswitch @chonisberonica @tsukuyomi011 @roonyxx @doewhisper-of-windclan

Bucky: @inumorph @angryschnauzerwrites @me-a-hopeless-romantic @thinkwritexpress-official @sarahp879 @blxcksoulsanddxrkflowers @wecanburntogether @britty443 @barnesbestgirl @demonspawn2468 @nuvoleincielo @bexboo616 @prospathww @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @slytherincoven @mysterysiria

Double Entendre: @thebunkerofatlas @anamcg317 @lizfawn @captainradicalpassion @seabasstiantrash @whiskeybucky @nycktmcginn @antisteller @linnyrero7-blog @nolongermcu-peterparker-readbio @inhyoung @sebashtiansatan @bookscoffeeandracoons @directionerfae @little-big-mac @lookwhatyoumademequeue @missrandomista @readsalot73 @jasmindaughteroftheworld

Double Entendre: Prologue

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]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

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.

ONE

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @stevieang @sunriserose1023 @feelmyroarrrr @moderapoppins @nomadstevergxrs @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @fatalcrossbow @phoenixwench @cattfeine @jbarnes87 @shynara51 @kanupps06 @girl-next-door-writes @palaiasaurus64 @supermarvelbrivalentine5sos @mcdanno71 @female-accountant @badassbaker @mittenskittie @icysquares @jobean12-blog @bella-ca @brieannakeogh @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @speakinvain @diinofayce @pebblesz892 @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @prettybubblesintheair @unlikelygalaxygiver @andiyholly @everythingisoverrated @akamaiden @glitterquadricorn @carls1022 @marvelellie @neeadinghugs @minahraven @gigistorm @sea040561 @brastrangled @xtina2191 @buckysothiccbarnes @jessica-bones-winchester @iamthemaskhewears @wheresthekillswitch @chonisberonica @tsukuyomi011 @roonyxx @doewhisper-of-windclan

Double Entendre: @thebunkerofatlas @anamcg317 @lizfawn @captainradicalpassion @seabasstiantrash @whiskeybucky @nycktmcginn @antisteller

Closing the Loop: Four

Summary: Imagine, from the time you’re born having a clock that counts down to the time you meet your soulmate. One day you meet Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and the clock stops. Now, you have to figure out which one it is.
Word Count: 2,003
Warnings: Language, talk of soulmates, possible smut, trying for a long burn.
Author’s Note: Thank you @captain-rogers-beard for your invaluable help with this. GIF Credit [X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.

Never had you met two men that were as different as Steve and Bucky. While your date with Steve had been dinner, wine, a starlit walk, and a heavy makeout session, Bucky’s idea of a date was completely different.

B: Swimsuits, sandals, and sunscreen.

Y: Is that all you’re going to tell me?

B: Do you have a surfboard?

Y: No LOL.

B: A valid license?

Y: Bucky, tell me what we’re doing!

B: See you in the morning.

You emerged from your apartment to find Bucky, wearing a white tank top, red and black swim trunks, a pair of dark sunglasses, and sitting on top of a cooler. He stood and watched you approach, whistling low in appreciation.

“Stop it,” you laughed, smacking him in the chest.

Bucky pushed his glasses up into his hair. “I will not,” he exclaimed with a wink. “Where’s your suit?”

“Under my clothes,” you answered, lifting up the hem of your shirt so he could see your spandex-covered stomach. “I take it we’re going to the beach.”

With a wink, Bucky’s glasses fell into place. He grabbed your hand and started walking, dragging the cooler behind him. “You… are on a need to know basis,” he chuckled.

“And I don’t need to know, apparently,” you sassed, squeezing his hand.

“Nope,” he was quick to agree. “Besides, how much fun will it be if you already know what’s going to happen?”

You did tell him you wanted him to surprise you, so you couldn’t exactly be mad at him. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t play with him, either. Narrowing your eyes at him, you bumped his shoulder with yours.

“Not even a little clue?” you fake begged, pushing your bottom lip out and batting your eyelashes over the top of your glasses.

His voice was thick with desire when he said, “Do that one more time, and we ain’t making it to the beach, doll.”

The raw need that blossomed in your belly made you squeeze your thighs together. “Promise?” you teased before you ripped your hand out of his and tore off down the sidewalk. The beach was just around the corner, and since he was pulling the cooler, you knew you could beat him; even wearing sandals.

Bucky had wanted to take you wakeboarding, but the guy behind the counter said, “Everybody already reserved ‘em.”

“What about the jet skis?” you asked, pointing to the end of the dock.

“Good idea,” Bucky purred, his arm tight around your waist, fingers under your shirt, lips close to your ear.

The attendant clicked the mouse a couple of times. “There’s one available at four.”

“When does it need to be back?” Bucky asked as he dug for his wallet.

“We close at eight,” the attendant answered.

“Sold,” Bucky cheered as he slapped some cash into the outstretched hand.

You turned in his grip. “What should we do until then?”

“I’m sure I can come up with something,” he grinned and slapped your ass.

“Volleyball,” you deadpanned. “You want to kill time by playing volleyball.”

Bucky kicked off his sandals. “What’s wrong with volleyball?”

“Absolutely nothing,” you replied as you tied your hair into a high knot. “If you wanna get your ass kicked.”

“Me?” he chortled, hand on his chest. “Get my ass kicked?”

“I don’t see anyone else standing there.” You kicked off your sandals and started stretching; your arms first, pulling one arm across your chest, relishing in the pleasant burning in your shoulders.

Bucky stood there and watched appreciatively while you stretched. “I don’t think you know who you’re talkin’ to, Y/N. You’re lookin’ at -”

“Oh, Bucky,” you purred, strolling over to him. “I know exactly who I’m talking to.”

The man in front of you swallowed loudly, his eyes roving over your exposed skin. “You uh, you do?”

“I’m talking to the man whose ass I’m going to kick,” you mused, leaning in close and yanking the ball from his grip.

“Game on, doll,” Bucky grit out, yanking off his shirt before taking his place across from you on the volleyball court.

It was difficult not to notice the way his muscles moved under his tan skin; the sight of it made your fingers itch and your mouth water. You wanted to touch every single inch of his gloriously thick body, but that would have to wait for another time. Right then, you wanted to wipe that cocky grin off his face.

Less than two minutes later, you had accomplished just that.

He was on his ass and elbows, glaring at you. “Goddamn, woman.”

“You’re quitting already?” you teased, bouncing the ball from hand to hand. “Come on, Buck. You said you wanted to play.”

“Oh, I want to play, doll,” he purred as he pushed himself up. “You’ve got no idea just how much.”

You made sure he noticed the way your eyes raked over him, how they settled on his stomach, on the muscles in the shape of a v that disappeared beneath his swimming trunks. “I think I have an idea.”

A wicked grin lit up Bucky’s face at the implication. “No, doll. You really don’t.”

Your mouth went dry at the weight of his words. This was going to be more difficult than you thought it would be. Giving yourself a firm mental shake, you put your head back in the game, and without warning, you served the ball, sending it to the far left corner of the court.

“Two – nothing,” you sassed.

“You cheated,” he pointed out before jogging after the ball.

“All’s fair in love and war,” you mused.

The ball came flying your way. It skimmed the net on its way over, making it a lot easier to catch than Bucky intended.

“Good thing it wasn’t your play,” you teased him, getting yourself ready to serve it again. The ball spun on your palm as you swayed back and forth.

“Just serve the damn ball, Y/N,” Bucky growled playfully, taking a defensive stance.

“You got it,” you chuckled before tossing the ball into the air and launching it over the net.

Bucky watched the ball like a hawk and, to your surprise, caught the ball on his forearms. It didn’t go over the net, not until after he was directly under the ball where he set it up for a spike. Despite your best attempt, you didn’t make it in time.

He gave a bellowing cheer, his arms over his head as he fell to his knees. “What is it you were saying about kicking my ass?”

“Good of you to finally show up to the game,” you shot back with a wink. You shoved yourself up and out of the sand, wiping it from your sweaty skin. “Your ball, hot shot.”

And that’s how the game continued; both of you teasing the other, sassing back and forth. Bucky would score against you, but not as many as you. He’d get close, but you were always two or three ahead of him, and that only fueled his competitive nature.

By the time the attendant came to let you know the jetski was available, the score was an unbelievable forty-two to thirty-nine.

Bucky was practically seething, his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring. “You wanna finish this game?”

“Buck, as much as I would love to finish schooling you in the game of volleyball,” you started, ducking under the net to stand in front of him. “There is a jetski with our name on it and, I don’t know about you, I’m dying to get into the water.”

His eyes flashed when you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, when you stood well within his personal space. “Let’s do this,” he gruffed and grabbed your hand.

The spray of water felt amazing against your overheated skin and Bucky, well, his tapered waist fit perfectly between your legs, the thick corded muscles of his thighs felt like heaven. Even though the pair of you were wearing life vests, you had a hand on his taut stomach, the other against his chest, the zipper shifting against your palm.

You were so lost in everything that was Bucky, that when he slowed down and pulled up to a cove, you were completely surprised.

“What is this?” you gasped.

Bucky chuckled and dismounted the ski. “This,” he said with a grand gesture of his arm, “is dinner.”

There was a blanket spread out and a basket sitting in the middle.

“When did you have time to do this? I’ve been kicking your ass for hours,” you teased lightly.

Once the life vests were removed and set on the now stable jetski, Bucky led you over to the picnic, his fingers tangled with yours.

“I have this friend -”

“You have a friend?” you deadpanned.

“Ha ha,” he mocked dryly. “Yes, I have a friend.”

You sat down with a playful scowl and, without waiting for him, opened the basket. It was full of everything you loved, including a bottle of expensive wine. You went to tell him that it was too much money for only one bottle of wine, but he shook his head.

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it,” Bucky said. He took it from you and made quick work of opening it. “Besides, it’s too late now. The bottle’s open.”

Hours later, after the sun had set and stars twinkled in the night sky, you and Bucky stood outside of your apartment building. There were a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your stomach. The numerous hours of shameless flirting and inappropriate comments only feuling the knot of desire you were barely able to contain.

Bucky had you in his arms, a hand tangled in your hair, the other on the small of your back, long fingers gripping your ass. You were pressed to his chest, arms circled around him, fingers digging into and gripping the thin cotton shirt he wore. The kiss was intense; ragged breaths sucked in desperately in an attempt to make the kiss last that much longer.

Before too long, you pulled back and sucked at the cool air. Bucky’s mouth moved along your jawline and down your neck, pulling moans of his name from you. You carded a hand through his hair and tugged on the strands.

“Bucky, please,” you huffed.

“Please what, doll?” Bucky nipped at your pulsepoint, sending a shudder down your spine.

“Just… wait.”

Bucky groaned as he pulled back, hands heavy on your waist. “Are you okay?”

The conversation with Steve played back in your head, how you said you had wanted to wait until both dates had happened, until you had some time to process everything.

“I just need a minute,” you rasped. Whatever air you had remaining in your lungs was sucked out the moment you looked into Bucky’s icy eyes.

One of his hands cupped your face. “You can talk to me, you know. I’m not just a piece of arm candy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I have no doubt about that.”

“Okay, so talk to me, doll,” he requested. “Something’s rattling around in that pretty brain of yours.”

Before you said anything, you pulled in several deep breaths. “I want to wait to uh, to have sex with you.”

You didn’t know what to expect, but a soft smile wasn’t it. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah? You’re not… mad or anything?”

“Doll,” he literally purred, a finger curled under your chin. “This soulmate thing, what’s between us, it isn’t about sex.”

When you rolled your eyes and scoffed, he clarified, “It’s not only about sex. Look, I’m crazy about you, Y/N.”

“I’m crazy about you, too,” you assured him. “I really am.”

“Good,” Bucky hummed against your lips.

You repeated his sentiment, unable to stop a burst of giggles when he picked you up, arms around your waist, lifting your feet from the ground.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughter still coating your voice.

“Giving you one hell of a goodnight kiss,” was his answer.

FIVE

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @badassbaker @fatalcrossbow @sunriserose1023 @alyssaj23 @ssweet-empowerment @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @palaiasaurus64 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @nyxveracity @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @melaninmarvel @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @wildefire @capsheadquaters @saharzek @speakinvain @diinofayce @mizzzpink @pebblesz892 @stevieang @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @lea—-b @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @moisttoas-t @nuggsmumreads @jobean12-blog @fireismysaftey @msshadowboxer @vechkinfan @prettybubblesintheair @kanupps06 @rainbowkisses31 @janeyboo @banlaochranda @ellie-bee242 @shieldsandsunsets @evanstandream @punkrockhufflefluff @winters-beauty @unlikelygalaxygiver @thirtiethnovember @sexyvixen7 @whope123 @mscaptainjones @awkward-walking-potato @memory-of-a-goldfish @somethingwitty-somethingsweet @minarawr @xserenax-13 @andiyholly @bionic-buckyb @princess76179 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @female-accountant @whitemoonstag @xxashy999xx @coffeewithjake @nerdgirljen @everythingisoverrated @angelsofalliteration @walkingtravesty97 @jbarnes87 @akamaiden @part-time-patronus @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @emmawatsonbelle @joannie95 @jamesbbbarnes-blog @buckysothiccbarnes @paintballkid711 @teafocus @cxptain-bxcky @letsdisneythings @gonnadiereading @nomadstevergxrs @kaliforniacoastalteens @marvelcomicsz @tutis24 @i-speak-sarcasmmm @thebiggestmarvelnerd @attemptsatliving @thisismysecrethappyplace @glitterquadricorn @carls1022 @marvelellie @feelmyroarrrr @neeadinghugs @minahraven @gigistorm @sea040561 @brastrangled @jessica-bones-winchester @iamthemaskhewears @wheresthekillswitch @chonisberonica @tsukuyomi011 @xtina2191 @roonyxx @doewhisper-of-windclan

Closing the Loop: @kristenallison04 @margxrxtcarter @1-fighting-dreamer @supermoonpanda @making-the-most-0f-it @thefanficfaerie @twentyjuanpancakes @robecca-le-blog-des-citations @lupine-princess @vialuciferscage @harkness-trenchcoat @hufflepuffle97 @patzammit @shynara51 @kimskew @kimberlydyan @whisperingwillows @seragrime @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @deep-space-llama-kid @super-complicated @heartbreaker6995 @the-sunshine-in-the-dark @markusstraya @bookscoffeeandracoons @grimmlytimelord @phoenixwench @benditlikegumby @fashiondiva88 @moonstar86 @superpaperclip @purple-snowfox @the-whitewolfie @purpledragon88

Steve: @mjdoc90 @hides-in-the-shadows @cherrysfandom @lxdyred @phoenix21love @xingareum @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @patzammit @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @slytherincoven

Closing the Loop: Three

Summary: Imagine, from the time you’re born having a clock that counts down to the time you meet your soulmate. One day you meet Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and the clock stops. Now, you have to figure out which one it is.
Word Count: 1,542
Warnings: Language, talk of soulmates, possible smut, trying for a long burn.
Author’s Note: Thank you @captain-rogers-beard for your invaluable help with this. GIF Credit [X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.

For your date with Steve, you splurged a little by dipping into your savings and bought a dark blue – the sales clerk called it prussian – and shoulderless cocktail dress. It was the first dress you saw when you stepped into the store, and you knew you had to have it. There was one left in stock, and as luck would have it, it was a perfect fit; it was tight in all the right places, showcasing your curves.

With your hair pulled back and tied into a low bun, you applied a dusting of makeup. Once your desired look was achieved, a pair of earrings, rose gold strappy heels, and a small clutch completed the ensemble.

“Shit,” you mumbled, catching the time as you tucked your phone into the clutch. If you didn’t leave now and catch a cab, you were going to be late. Not exactly what you wanted to have happen on the first date with your potential soulmate.

Steve was standing outside, checking his watch, and bouncing on the balls of his feet; it was only a couple minutes after the agreed upon time.

“She’s just running behind,” he muttered under his breath.

His heart was hammering painfully in his chest, worried that Y/N had changed her mind about wanting to date him, his brain doing its best to try and convince him that she had already chosen Bucky. It was stupid to think that way, the rational part of his brain knew that, but fear had a way of taking the smallest seed of doubt and watering it until it overshadowed everything else; including logic. He had just shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from looking at his watch when a cab pulled up.

Y/N stepped out and the sight of her stole the breath from Steve’s lungs. The blue material swished around her legs as she walked toward him, the tap, tap, tap, tap of her heels on the concrete, the way her lips quirked, how she tipped her head as she said… something; Y/N was stunning.

“Steve,” she giggled, her hand on his elbow as she shook him gently. “Are you alright?”

“You look incredible,” Steve rasped. He held out the arm she still had a grip on and sighed as she slid the hand from his elbow to the inside of his forearm.

A blush colored her collarbones and chest, and she dipped her head down as she murmured, “Thank you, you too.” Y/N traced her nails over the subtle pattern of his suit absentmindedly as they walked toward the restaurant.

Once inside, Y/N looked up and gasped. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

The restaurant was bathed in ambient light, provided mostly by the chandelier above. There were also candles on each table, flickering in their holders, reflecting off the various glasses, creating small shadows that danced over the cutlery. The tables were the perfect size for couples on a date; plenty of room for plates and glasses of wine, but small enough that it wouldn’t be impossible to reach across the table and hold your partner’s hand.

Steve couldn’t help himself. “Not as beautiful as you,” tumbled from his lips, pulling another giggle from Y/N. He wanted her, then and there, not sexually, but as a partner in life. He wanted to drop to one knee and propose, then kiss her breathless when she accepted.

The maître d’ showed them to their table, which was next to a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked a field of flowers. There was a path through the flowers that they could walk down if they chose.

Once they were seated, Y/N looked at the menu and started to shake her head. “Steve, this is all too much.”

Steve, who chose to sit next to her rather than across the table, grabbed her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s really not,” he argued gently.

“Are you sure? We could go someplace else,” she offered.

“Do you want to?” he wondered. He’d go wherever she wanted, all she had to do was say where.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Not really.”

“Okay then,” Steve chuckled, his hand tangling with hers. .

The stroll through the gardens had been peaceful and beautiful; the flowers’ gentle perfume was carried on the breeze, filling your nose with their aroma.

You and Steve had been walking for over an hour; palms pressed together, fingers intertwined, thumbs caressing pulse points. At one point, you had shivered, and Steve draped his jacket around your shoulders, laughing at how long the cuffs hung past your hands. After that, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. You looped your arm around his waist, tucking a finger in his belt loop, sighing in contentment at just how… right it felt to be with him.

You had gotten so lost in Steve, that you were surprised when you ended up at your apartment. “My feet are going to be sore tomorrow,” you chuckled, suddenly nervous for some reason.

“I could stay and massage them if you like,” Steve all but purred. He was looking down at you, his normal azure eyes were swirling with need, and it made your stomach twist lazily.

Standing in front of him, you ran your hand along the buttons of his waistcoat before settling on his hip. “You’d do that?”

“I would do whatever you wanted me to,” he admitted breathlessly. Steve caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he caressed your jaw with his thumb before snagging your chin in his thumb and forefinger.

“And if I asked you to kiss me?” you rasped, throat thick with need.

Hot breath blasted against your lips when he answered. “I would be a fool to say no.”

With your other hand resting on his chest, directly over his hammering heart, you pushed up until your lips were a whisper away. “Kiss me, Steve.”

It was the farthest thing from a question, but Steve didn’t object. Steve pressed his lips to yours and sighed at the contact. Melting into him, you answered his sigh with one of your own, sliding your hand up to grab the back of his neck, scraping your nails through the short hairs.

Steve might have been a gentleman on the date and while the pair of you walked, but he sure didn’t kiss like one. He kissed you as if he were conquering you, dominating you, stealing the breath from your lungs, swallowing your moans. Steve’s hands were on your back and ass, pulling you against him and holding you there, not leaving an inch between you. Every squeeze of his strong hands, every moan that made his chest vibrate, the way his arousal pressed and twitched against your belly… all of it only threw gasoline on the roaring fire. The ache between your legs was unbearable when you pulled back, your lungs stinging as you sucked in the crisp night air around you.

“Steve,” you choked. Your hands were lost under his waistcoat, tugging at his dress shirt. “We shouldn’t.”

Steve pressed his forehead to yours as he struggled to breathe, his chest heaving, straining the buttons. “Do you… not want to?”

You huffed thickly. “I want to, Steve,” you assured him. “My God, do I want to. I just… I don’t think it would be fair.”

Dark eyelashes fanned across his skin when his eyes fluttered closed. “Bucky,” he rasped.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

When he didn’t, you kissed him, just a press of your lips to his. “You said you’d do whatever I wanted, so… look at me.” His lust-blown irises had almost completely taken over, leaving a strip of stormy blue, and if he hadn’t been holding you up, you’d be on your ass.

“I want you,” you repeated through clenched teeth. “But if I’m going to do this, try to figure all of this out, I need to do it on my terms.”

Steve gave a lopsided smile after kissing you as sweetly as you had just kissed him. “I know, Y/N.”

You untangled yourself from Steve, groaning at the loss of contact and body heat. “I should get in,” you murmured as you shrugged out of his jacket and handed it back.

After draping his jacket over his arm, Steve grabbed you around the waist and kissed you fiercely, making you second guess your previous statement about waiting. Just when the last bit of your resolve was about to crumble, he pulled back, growled something you couldn’t understand, and strode away.

Thankfully, Bucky was asleep when Steve got home. The two might be best friends, but the last person Steve wanted to see right then was the man Y/N might choose over him. Steve wanted Y/N, and he wanted her bad. It took everything he had to walk away from her tonight. She was so soft and smooth, tasted and sounded incredible. It didn’t take much to get completely wound up again.

Growling low in his throat, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, and finished it in three swallows. This whole ‘sharing’ thing was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

FOUR

Steve: @mjdoc90 @hides-in-the-shadows @cherrysfandom @lxdyred @phoenix21love @xingareum @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @patzammit @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @slytherincoven

Closing the Loop: Two: Deleted Scene

star-spangled-man-with-a-plan:

There was something about the soulmate tattoos that hadn’t really been talked about much; you could only see your own while it was counting down. Once contact with your soulmate had been made, the tattoo disappeared from your skin in the blink of an eye.

Steve was staring down at his wrist, at the spot where the tattoo had once been, his thumb stroking over the area. He had spent countless minutes and hours watching the time tick away, wondering who fate would bestow upon him. Needless to say, it felt odd not having the numbers on his skin anymore.

“What’s goin’ on in that head a’yours, Stevie?” Bucky asked after dropping down onto the sofa.

“Nothing,” he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just never thought we would end up having the same soulmate.”

Bucky shifted on the couch. “I didn’t either,” he admitted. “Are you, uh, having second thoughts to this?”

“No, no,” Steve argued, pulling down his sleeve. “I’m just… confused and, God, I feel like I’m going crazy every second I’m not with her.”

“I know the feeling,” Bucky mused, a hand running through his hair.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Buck,” Steve said once again.

Bucky glanced down at his wrist and sighed heavily. “It sure ain’t.”

Keep reading

Closing the Loop: Two: Deleted Scene

There was something about the soulmate tattoos that hadn’t really been talked about much; you could only see your own while it was counting down. Once contact with your soulmate had been made, the tattoo disappeared from your skin in the blink of an eye.

Steve was staring down at his wrist, at the spot where the tattoo had once been, his thumb stroking over the area. He had spent countless minutes and hours watching the time tick away, wondering who fate would bestow upon him. Needless to say, it felt odd not having the numbers on his skin anymore.

“What’s goin’ on in that head a’yours, Stevie?” Bucky asked after dropping down onto the sofa.

“Nothing,” he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “I just never thought we would end up having the same soulmate.”

Bucky shifted on the couch. “I didn’t either,” he admitted. “Are you, uh, having second thoughts to this?”

“No, no,” Steve argued, pulling down his sleeve. “I’m just… confused and, God, I feel like I’m going crazy every second I’m not with her.”

“I know the feeling,” Bucky mused, a hand running through his hair.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Buck,” Steve said once again.

Bucky glanced down at his wrist and sighed heavily. “It sure ain’t.”

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @badassbaker @fatalcrossbow @sunriserose1023 @alyssaj23 @ssweet-empowerment @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @palaiasaurus64 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @nyxveracity @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @melaninmarvel @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @capsheadquaters @saharzek @speakinvain @diinofayce @mizzzpink @pebblesz892 @stevieang @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @lea—-b @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @moisttoas-t @nuggsmumreads @jobean12-blog @fireismysaftey @msshadowboxer @vechkinfan @prettybubblesintheair @kanupps06 @rainbowkisses31 @janeyboo @banlaochranda @ellie-bee242 @shieldsandsunsets @evanstandream @punkrockhufflefluff @winters-beauty @unlikelygalaxygiver @thirtiethnovember @sexyvixen7 @whope123 @mscaptainjones @awkward-walking-potato @memory-of-a-goldfish @somethingwitty-somethingsweet @minarawr @xserenax-13 @andiyholly @bionic-buckyb @princess76179 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @female-accountant @whitemoonstag @xxashy999xx @coffeewithjake @nerdgirljen @everythingisoverrated @angelsofalliteration @walkingtravesty97 @jbarnes87 @akamaiden @part-time-patronus @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @emmawatsonbelle @joannie95 @jamesbbbarnes-blog @buckysothiccbarnes @paintballkid711 @teafocus @cxptain-bxcky @letsdisneythings @gonnadiereading @nomadstevergxrs @kaliforniacoastalteens @marvelcomicsz @tutis24 @i-speak-sarcasmmm @thebiggestmarvelnerd @attemptsatliving @thisismysecrethappyplace @glitterquadricorn @carls1022 @marvelellie @feelmyroarrrr @neeadinghugs @minahraven @gigistorm @sea040561 @brastrangled @jessica-bones-winchester @iamthemaskhewears @wheresthekillswitch @chonisberonica @tsukuyomi011 @xtina2191 @roonyxx @doewhisper-of-windclan

Steve: @mjdoc90 @hides-in-the-shadows @cherrysfandom @lxdyred @phoenix21love @xingareum @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @patzammit @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @slytherincoven

Closing the Loop: @kristenallison04 @margxrxtcarter @1-fighting-dreamer @supermoonpanda @making-the-most-0f-it @thefanficfaerie @twentyjuanpancakes @robecca-le-blog-des-citations @lupine-princess @vialuciferscage @harkness-trenchcoat @hufflepuffle97 @shynara51 @kimskew @kimberlydyan @whisperingwillows @seragrime @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @deep-space-llama-kid @super-complicated @heartbreaker6995 @the-sunshine-in-the-dark @markusstraya @bookscoffeeandracoons @grimmlytimelord @phoenixwench @benditlikegumby @fashiondiva88 @moonstar86

Closing the Loop: Two

Summary: Imagine, from the time you’re born having a clock that counts down to the time you meet your soulmate. One day you meet Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and the clock stops. Now, you have to figure out which one it is.
Word Count: 1,329
Warnings: Language, talk of soulmates, possible smut, trying for a long burn.
Author’s Note: Thank you @captain-rogers-beard for your invaluable help with this. GIF Credit [X][X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.

Only because it was really late and each of you had to work the next day, the three of you exchanged numbers before leaving the diner. Nothing about the situation had been discussed, therefore, no decisions had been made. If anyone wanted to talk, they had your number, and you had theirs.

“What the hell am I going to do?” you asked no one but yourself as you trudged across town to your small apartment. It wasn’t like you could date both of them, figure out which one was truly your soulmate, because there was no way in hell you could have two. Right? It wasn’t how things worked.

Y: Are you up, Wanda?

W: Yeah. Are you okay?

Y: I don’t know. I met him today… my soulmate.

W: How is that a bad thing?

Y: There’s two of them, Wan.

W: Whoa! No way.

Y: Right? And Now… I don’t know what to do. I mean, I can’t date both of them. Can I?

W: Why not?

Y: Wanda, There’s one of me and two of them. It’s not… wouldn’t that be weird?

W: It wouldn’t be weird to me. Can I make a suggestion?

Y: I was hoping you would.

W: Date them both.

Y: WHAT?! No way. I couldn’t… I can’t.

W: If the possibility of having two soulmates is really bothering you, go on dates with both of them. Not TOGETHER, but one date with… what are their names?

Y: Steve and Bucky.

W: 😉 Okay then. Go on a date with Steve one night, and the next, go with Bucky.

Y: And then what?

W: And then you decide who you want to be with.

Y: I don’t know, Wanda. It’s not… weird?

W: Not one bit. Besides, dating two men at one time sounds like an adventure.

Y: I guess.

W: You can do this, YN. Send them a group text tonight, tell them you want to meet them tomorrow.

Y: What if they say no?

W: Are you kidding me?! They’d be stupid to say no.

Y: Okay… I can do this. I can date two men at once and choose who I want to spend the rest of my life with. No pressure.

W: That’s the spirit.

Y: Fake it til I make it.

Wanda was right, you could do this. You just needed to take a shower. And drink a couple bottles of beer. Feeling slightly buzzed, you dropped to the edge of your bed, phone in hand, looking at the two new entries to your contacts; Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. Behind both of their names, you had added sm?. Your thumb was hovering over the screen, their pictures staring up at you; Bucky with his cocky smirk, and Steve with his warm and comforting smile.

Before you knew what you were doing, you sent a group text:

Meet me tomorrow at the diner, 5pm.

The two friends were silent the entire cab ride home; it was the longest they had ever gone without talking. Even when they were younger and pissed off, the silent treatment never lasted for longer than an hour. They had met Y/N over nine hours ago, eight of which were spent in silence, holding hands and staring at one another.

Even in their apartment, sitting on the couch, drinking one beer, then another, then another, neither man spoke. Not until Bucky’s phone chimed. Steve’s followed suit half a second later.

Meet me tomorrow at the diner, 5pm.

“What do you think she wants to do?” Steve asked, thumb hovering over the screen, not knowing what to type back.

Bucky huffed out a breath through his nose. “We won’t know until we meet her.”

B: Be there with bells on.

Steve tucked his phone away and took a long pull of beer. “What are we gonna do?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

Chuckling wryly, Steve arched a brow at his friend. “Buck… our soulmate is the same woman. We can’t… share her.”

With a smirk, Bucky’s shoulder bobbed up and down. “Why not?”

When Steve scoffed loudly and looked like he was going to haul off and slug him, Bucky clarified things.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Steve.” He quickly finished his beer and slid it onto the table before draping his forearms over his knees. “But… stay with me here… what if we both date her, let her decide who she wants to be with.”

Steve didn’t answer for several long moments. “If we do this, and that’s a big if,” Steve said sternly. “There’s no scheming, nothing devious -”

“During and after,” Bucky interrupted.

Nodding, Steve finished the conversation. “Whoever Y/N chooses, that’s it.”

Were you really going to do this; proposition two men, date them both at the same time? Maybe you should get up and walk out before you choked on the butterflies that were clawing their way up your throat before Steve and Bucky showed up. You were about to scramble out of the booth when the small bell above the door announced their arrival.

When you looked at them, met each of their gazes, everything else went silent. It was just you and them, no one else existed, no one else mattered. Shit, if this was going to be your reaction every time the three of you met, you really needed to get a handle on it.

As if on cruise control, you stood when they arrived at the booth and pushed up to your toes to kiss the corners of their mouths. A spark of heat coursed through you, urging you to do more, to grab them by the lapels of their jackets and kiss them breathless, but you refrained, only barely.

You waited until they slid into their seats across from you before blurting out the reason you asked to meet them. “What if I dated both of you?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. “I said the exact same thing last night.”

“Yeah?” you chuckled, the knot of nerves in your throat loosening drastically.

“We think it’s a good idea,” Steve added. “Even came up with a sort of gentleman’s agreement.”

“Sounds interesting,” you couldn’t help but note. “And what are the details of this agreement?” you posed, smiling coquettishly.

Both men shifted in their seats and cleared their throats, but it was Steve that answered first. “With no interference from the other party, we date, and it’s all up to you. Whoever you decide you want to be with, that’s it.”

While a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, a sense of unease bubbled at the back of your throat. “And you… you guys are okay with that?”

Bucky grabbed your hand first. “Absolutely,” he answered low in his throat.

There was a sparkle in his eyes that drove a blush up your neck. The warmth that spread through your veins and settled between your legs brought a question to the forefront of your mind.

“What about sex?” you blurted a little louder than you intended.

There were several chuckles from the booth connected to yours, but Bucky and Steve didn’t bat an eye. “Only when you’re ready,” they replied in unison.

With your brows furrowed, you tipped your head, and looked at Steve. “You have no issue sleeping with the same girl as your best friend.”

“I won’t let it interfere with how I treat you,” he insisted, eyes dropping to your hand that was covered by his friend’s hand.

“But it does bother you,” you pushed, wanting to hear the truth, not what he thought you wanted to hear.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “A little bit. But like I said, I won’t let it interfere with how I treat you, and I won’t do something stupid by trying to sabotage anything between you and Buck.”

Humming softly, you grabbed Steve’s hand, relishing in the zing of electricity that shot through the three of you. “As long as we all agree, let’s date.”

THREE

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @badassbaker @fatalcrossbow @sunriserose1023 @alyssaj23 @ssweet-empowerment @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @palaiasaurus64 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @nyxveracity @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @melaninmarvel @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @capsheadquaters @saharzek @speakinvain @diinofayce @mizzzpink @pebblesz892 @stevieang @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @lea—-b @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @moisttoas-t @nuggsmumreads @jobean12-blog @fireismysaftey @msshadowboxer @vechkinfan @prettybubblesintheair @kanupps06 @rainbowkisses31 @janeyboo @banlaochranda @ellie-bee242 @shieldsandsunsets @evanstandream @punkrockhufflefluff @winters-beauty @unlikelygalaxygiver @thirtiethnovember @sexyvixen7 @whope123 @mscaptainjones @awkward-walking-potato @memory-of-a-goldfish @somethingwitty-somethingsweet @minarawr @xserenax-13 @andiyholly @bionic-buckyb @princess76179 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @female-accountant @whitemoonstag @xxashy999xx @coffeewithjake @nerdgirljen @everythingisoverrated @angelsofalliteration @walkingtravesty97 @jbarnes87 @akamaiden @part-time-patronus @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @emmawatsonbelle @joannie95 @jamesbbbarnes-blog @buckysothiccbarnes @paintballkid711 @teafocus @cxptain-bxcky @letsdisneythings @gonnadiereading @nomadstevergxrs @kaliforniacoastalteens @marvelcomicsz @tutis24 @i-speak-sarcasmmm @thebiggestmarvelnerd @attemptsatliving @thisismysecrethappyplace @glitterquadricorn @carls1022 @marvelellie @feelmyroarrrr @neeadinghugs @minahraven @gigistorm

Closing the Loop: One

Summary: Imagine, from the time you’re born having a clock that counts down to the time you meet your soulmate. One day you meet Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and the clock stops. Now, you have to figure out which one it is.
Word Count: 1,610
Warnings: Language, talk of soulmates, possible smut, trying for a long burn.
Author’s Note: Thank you @captain-rogers-beard for your invaluable help with this. GIF credit [X][X]

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission.

Today was the day. You were going to meet your soulmate. Part of you hated the fact that you didn’t get to choose who you were going to spend the rest of your life with, the other part, well, that part was as excited as a sixteen year old that got her dream car for her birthday. She was jumping around, screaming at the top of her lungs, throwing confetti, and Jesus Christ, was she nervous.

What if he hated you or found you annoying? What if he thought you were too short or ugly? What if he was ugly? No… that wasn’t right. A man’s humor and brain were what you noticed first. Did it hurt if he was attractive? No. But you weren’t shallow.

It was difficult to focus, to go about your daily routine as if your life weren’t about to change, as if in three hours, you weren’t going to meet the one that you’d spend the rest of your life with. Were you always on board with the idea that you didn’t get to choose who you fell in love with? Hell no. But there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Everyone had a soulmate. It was just how things were.

Your parents found each other when they were toddlers, your sister and brother-in-law when they were in high school. It wasn’t a tattoo or an obscure feeling. It was an internal clock that started ticking from the moment you were born. A clock that counted down to the day, the hour, the minute, the very second that you would meet him.

“You’re distracted today,” Clint chuckled, nudging you with his elbow.

With a forced smile, you focused on the task at hand; finishing putting away the stack of books on your cart. “I’m fine, Barton. Just trying to keep busy.”

He dropped a finger to your wrist and felt your pulse. “Nope. Not buying it, Y/N.”

You about dropped a copy of The Princess Bride, but your sweaty hand stuck to the paperback cover. “I’m meeting him today,” you admitted breathlessly. “I’m nervous, alright?”

“Of course you are,” Clint said, his hand now on your shoulder. “Should’a seen me when I met Nat,” he chuckled.

The frayed nerves instantly calmed as you let loose a rich laugh. “Oh, God, I can only imagine.”

“She ran into me, literally, a streak of red hair and black leather flying out of a club.” Clint was shaking his head as he leaned against the bookcase you were stocking.

“What did you do?” you asked as this was the first time you heard the story.

“Nothing I really could do,” he admitted. “I barely kept us on our feet. Then she kissed me.”

You sighed heavily. “Of course you two hit it off right away. You guys are perfect.”

“There’s nothing perfect about us, Y/N,” Clint pointed out. “We fight about the dumbest things.”

“But you love each other, have since the first meeting,” you pushed.

Just once, you wanted to hear how rough of a start a couple had, how they looked at each other and rolled their eyes, groaning at the prospect of being with that one person until the end of time. Because, deep down, you were convinced that was going to happen to you.

Crossing his arms, Clint watched as you finished stocking the shelf. “It will go just fine.”

With a scoff, you rolled your eyes. “You only say that because your soulmate literally fell into your arms and kissed you. I’m sure you were married the next day.”

He huffed a laugh. “We were.”

“So was my sister, my parents, my parent’s parents, their parents, and theirs. I’m just -”

“What, Y/N?” Clint interrupted gently. You knew he hated it when you talked negatively about yourself.

Catching sight of the time, you mumbled for him to, “Just forget it. I’m going to lunch.” You pushed away from your friend, shoved your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, and left the store.

You lied about wanting to get something to eat. What you really wanted to do was get away from the noise, to get rid of all the soulmate racket bouncing inside the grey matter like a ping pong ball. It was weird how fast things changed. Just a handful of hours ago you were excited about meeting your soulmate, and now… now, all you wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed.

With your head down and your hands in your pockets, you didn’t have time to catch yourself when you tripped. Swearing, you braced for the impact, but it never came.

“Shit,” a deep voice ground out. “You alright?”

You turned in a set of thick arms and looked up into ocean-blue eyes. “I uh… ye- yeah,” you stammered.

“Careful now,” someone chuckled from next to you, hand on your elbow.

The man whose arms you were in stood up, pulling you with him, unintentionally dragging you along every inch of his body. You looked to your left, dropped your hand to the other man’s forearm for support, and found another set of intense blue eyes drilling into yours. The air was sickeningly thick between the three of you, sparking with unspent electricity, pulsing, and almost painful.

“Oh, shit,” the three of you said at the same time. You knew then and there that you had met your soulmate. The only problem was, you didn’t know who it was since you were currently sandwiched between two men.

You stayed there, trapped between two rock-solid bodies, under the intense gazes of identical blue eyes, your racing hearts beating as one, until it felt like you were going to implode. With shaking legs, you pushed away and sucked in a ragged breath.

The man that had caught you in his arms looked as if someone had punched him in the gut, and the other guy, well… he didn’t look any better. They both licked their lips – lips that you found yourself wanting to kiss and suck on – and stared hard at you.

“The fuck was that?” you demanded, your vision swimming and your brain short circuiting. You’d heard various accounts of what it was like to meet your soulmate. Plain and simple, no two experiences were the same. but you’d never heard of one this extreme before.

Both men took a step towards you, hands held out, concern etched in their faces. “Take it easy,” the blonde one rasped, his large hand shaking in front of him.

You about tripped over your own feet as you backed away. “Who… who are you?”

The brunette cleared his throat, though it remained gravelly when he answered. “My name is Bu- James… James Barnes,” he introduced himself, his tongue darting out to dampen his tongue. “People call me Buck… or Bucky.”

“My name is Steve,” the one whose arms you were in moments ago said. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you panted, heat flushing your skin. The sting of electricity had started to fade, leaving behind an aching pulse. “Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, your voice growing steadier with every bone-shuddering beat of your heart.

You watched as both men swallowed heavily, their eyes drifting closed for a moment as they composed themselves. Their eyes fluttered open at exactly the same speed, the same time… it was weird… how in sync the two men were, even in the way their shoulders twitched, in the way they walked, in just about everything they did.

Steve stopped further back from you than Bucky did. “I think we should find someplace not so… public to talk.”

It was still early enough that the diner you had suggested wasn’t overrun with the lunch crowd. You had picked a booth in the far corner, you on one side of the table, Bucky and Steve on the other. After texting Clint, saying you wouldn’t be coming back to work that afternoon, you tucked the phone into your pocket, and met the serious gazes of the men you ran into mere minutes ago.

“So,” you breathed, hands wringing together on the table. “How’s this supposed to work?”

Both men shrugged their wide shoulders and chuckled in unison, but it was Bucky that answered. “Hell if we know, doll.”

“You’re not the only one confused,” Steve murmured, eyes darting from his friend to you. “We were sorta hoping you knew what was going on.”

“Soulmate is singular,” you scoffed. “Means one. There’s two of you and one of me. I don’t… I’ve never…” you groaned and ran a hand over your face.

As if meeting your soulmate wasn’t emotionally compromising enough for you. You had barely prepared yourself to meet one of them. But two soulmates? You’d never heard of such a thing.

“There’s got to be a reasonable explanation. I mean… maybe too much static in the air.” You were grasping at straws, and deep down, you knew it.

Both men chuckled under their breath and slid a hand across the table at the same time. There it was again, that unspent electric spark passing through Bucky’s hand to yours, and yours to Steve’s. It wasn’t painful this time, rather the opposite. The pulsing heat of it was calming, silencing the chaos inside your mind. You could tell just by looking at them, that they were experiencing the same thing. All the unanswered questions, the noise and confusion, the previous anxiety; all of it melted away.

The three of you sat there, hands connected, this continuously pulsing energy surging through you, until the manager of the diner came over.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closing.”

TWO

Stucky: @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @autoblocked @its–fandom–darling @eshia16 @daiiybuugle @delicatecapnerd @phoenix21love @natcad @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @lillwindmill

The One With the Blackout

Summary: When Brooklyn goes dark, you find yourself trying to find the owner of a dog that’s wandering the empty hallways.
Word Count: 652 [Including translations from Google]
Warnings: Language, Bucky speaking broken English
Author’s Note: Written for @captain-s-rogers Marvel The One With The Challenge It was Pablo’s cat in the episode, here, it’s a dog. Bucky speaks Russian, where Pablo spoke Italian. My episode was: The One With The Blackout 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.

The last thing you really wanted to do when there was no power inside the shitty apartment building was search for the owner of a dog that had whined and pawed at your door. But, there you were, wandering the dark halls, flashlight in one hand, a makeshift leash in the other; one of your belts that you knotted around the dog’s collar.

Mutt was grey, had a curved and fluffy tail, one of his ears stood straight up while the other flopped over, and he had three legs; the front left was missing, though he didn’t appear to be bothered by it. Whenever you looked down at him, he appeared to be grinning at you, his pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, his tail swishing back and forth. You couldn’t help but smile down at him and scratch his head.

You knocked on what felt like the hundredth door, hoping that behind it would be Mutt’s owner. Mr. Fury, a tall and grouchy man with an eye patch all but ripped it open.

“What?”

“Hi,” you greeted with a thin smile. “I found this dog after the power went out, and I’m looking for the owner.”

His dark eyes roved over the three-legged creature. “Er, yeah, it’s mine.”

Mutt started growling, the hair on his back stood straight up.

“Are.. are you sure?” you questioned. “He seems to dislike you.”

Fury gave a wry chuckle. “Yeah, it’s my dog. Give me my dog.”

“Alright, only if you tell me his name,” you shot back.

“Ehhhhhh… F- Fido,” he stammered. “His name is Fido Frank.”

“Fido Frank?” you scoffed loudly.

Mr. Fury nodded enthusiastically. “Mmm, Fido Frank. Here, Fido Frank,” he called out, bending over slightly, his hand reaching out for the dog.

Mutt gave a loud bark before tearing off down the hall, your belt scratching your palm. “Ohhh! You’re a bad man!”

“You owe me a dog,” he called out as you stomped away, slamming the door a second later.

Once you reached the end of the hallway, you went up one flight of stairs, hoping Mutt hadn’t doubled back to the floor below. You felt stupid, calling out for a dog that wasn’t yours, but there you were, shining your flashlight back and forth.

“Mutt, come on boy,” you rasped, not too loudly so you didn’t bother the other tenants. “Where did you go?”

While your attention was on the area where your flashlight shone, you didn’t notice you weren’t alone until it was too late. You slammed into the other person and landed on your ass with a pained grunt.

“Son of a bitch,” you grit out.

You took hold of the hand that was held out, your eyes travelling up their thick thighs, a slightly tapered waist, and the widest set of shoulders you’d ever seen.

“С тобой все в порядке?” Are you alright?

“Wow,” you mused happily, your heart skipping a beat at way his electric blue eyes seemed to sparkle.

The unnamed and stunning man shook his head. “Какие?” What?

You held out your hand and introduced yourself. “Do you understand English?”

“Little bit,” he gruffed, his large hand encompassing your own. “I am Bucky. Dog mine.”

Mutt was sitting next there, tongue hanging out, whining happily.

“You come,” Bucky instructed you, turning toward his apartment.

Unable to stop them, your eyes dropped to his ass, and the sight made your mouth go dry. “Uh, I don’t know.” You started following him despite the brief wave of unease that washed over you.

Bucky’s head popped out, his chestnut and caramel hair spilling out from behind his ear. “You come,” he repeated. “Have beer.”

There was something exhilarating about going into an apartment of a man you had just met, especially when he spoke in broken English, and what you were sure was Russian. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he was hot as hell.

“I’d like that,” you finally said.

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Unexpected (2)

sunriserose1023:

Surprise! I just couldn’t wait any longer, so I’m posting this one ahead of schedule. (~~LOL @ me, trying to use a schedule.)~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here is my entry for @captain-s-rogers Marvel/Friends Challenge! I chose episode 2 from season 8, “The One With the Red Sweater.” The goal was to use Marvel characters and change one thing, and I think I managed to accomplish that. (Well, kind of. It’s not EXACTLY like the show, but I think it still works.)
WORD COUNT: 3618
WARNINGS FOR THE SERIES: THIS IS AN AU; unplanned pregnancy, language, angst, fluff, sexual content, emotional crap

Masterlist

The One With The Red Sweater

Christine sat at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. Pepper stood at the sink, holding her own mug, and they both looked to the door as it opened. Bucky sauntered in, dropping his keys in his pocket, walking to the table and grabbing hold of the back of the chair across from Christine.

“I did it.”

Christine raised her eyebrows and Pepper lifted her mug closer to her face. Bucky glanced from one to the other, then spoke again.

“‘Did what,’ you may ask? I called the stripper. And guess the fuck what?”

Neither woman said a word and Bucky pulled the chair back, walking and sitting in it.

“That test ain’t hers. Which means I can breathe a sigh of relief, but I can also never go around strippers ever again!”
“Oh, like you haven’t slept your way through NYC’s strippers anyway.”

Bucky pointed at Christine, who rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. Pepper tilted her head to the side.

“Did you really think she was pregnant like ten minutes after you guys did it?”
“I don’t know how those things work!”

Christine shook her head.

“Didn’t you pay attention in biology class?”
“I slept through biology class. The kid behind me would kick my desk if I started to snore. Steve did my homework and I bullshitted my way through the tests.”

Pepper rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief that the Barnes name will not be carried on, at least for now.”
“Not that we know of, anyway.”
“You hush your mouth.”

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