Double Entendre: Three

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]

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.

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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?”

“Shit,” Bucky hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The New York Space Alliance, right?”

“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.

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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.”

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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.

God, he was going to have so much fun.

FOUR

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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@coal000@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@mcu-peterparker@inhyoung@sebashtiansatan@bookscoffeeandracoons@directionerfae@little-big-mac2@lookwhatyoumademequeue@missrandomista@readsalot73@jasmindaughteroftheworld@octo-cow52@sarcasmoverlordxo@that-awkwardnerd@youmemealottome@logan8546@rumoured-whispers@nerdgirljen​​ @givemethatgold@bloodiedskirtts @mrsdeanwinchester19@queen-of-elves@zuretha-metal@jobabe032@nephalem67

Double Entendre: Two

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: 1,634
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.

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It was late by the time Pietro, your driver, pulled the car up to the front door of you home. Thor – yes, that was his given name – one of your bodyguards made his way into the estate first, checking each room on the main floor before allowing you and your husband to enter the residence.

Peter Quill, the second bodyguard, came down several moments after the front door was closed. “Second floor is all clear, Senator, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Bucky crooned, clapping Thor on the shoulder and nodding at Peter.

Peter moved behind you and was offering to take your jacket.

“You’re not a maid, Mr. Quill,” you scoffed.

“I am not, ma’am,” he agreed with a smirk. “However, I was raised to be a complete and total gentleman.”

You rolled your eyes at the man behind you but slid out of your jacket nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Thor shrugged out of the black suit jacket and loosened his tie. “If there is nothing else, we will retire for the evening.”

“We have absolutely no plans to leave,” you huffed as soon as you stepped out of your heels.

The four of you bid goodnight to one another, then Peter was setting the alarm before he disappeared down the hall to his room, Thor close behind. Their rooms were across the hall from one another, tucked behind the kitchen, far enough away that you and Bucky had plenty of room to yourselves, but close enough to ‘do their job’ should such an occasion arise.

With your husband trailing close behind, you made your way into the kitchen. You’d had a bit too much wine at the fundraiser, and now you were dealing with a case of cottonmouth. Two glasses of water later, you were feeling much better.

Bucky, who was only slightly drunk, grabbed your hand and spun you until you were chest to chest, his hand splayed over the small of your back. “Finally, I’ve got you all to myself,” he purred, his pupils slowly consuming his sapphire irises.

You rested your hand on the back of his neck and scraped your nails through his thick hair, along his scalp. “Now that you’ve got me, what do you plan on doing about it?”

To answer your question, Bucky backed you up against the refrigerator and started kissing you; deep and probing. You could taste the whiskey and the bite of tobacco from a cigar he indulged in earlier that evening on his tongue. You pushed up to your toes and melted into your husband, your hands tangling in his hair, roaming the breadth of his shoulders, nails catching on the almost invisible seams of his suit jacket.

The back of Bucky’s fingers skimmed against your thighs, just under the hem of your dress, sending a wave of goosebumps along your flesh. He pushed his hand between your thighs, growling low in the back of his throat as he came into contact with your dampening panties.

“For me, baby girl?” he hummed between kisses.

Electricity sparked against every inch of your skin at the way he was moving his fingers against you, a thin piece of cotton acting as the only barrier. You hissed your answer, your head falling back, your neck extending, relishing in the way Bucky’s plush lips, tongue, and teeth explored the area.

By the time he worked the panties down your legs and pushed two fingers inside of your tight hole, you were a whimpering mess. Your legs were shaking and the breath was tearing in and out of you, making you dizzy with desire. Bucky sought out your clit with his thumb, working it in tight circles as his fingers continued their ministrations; crooking just right to make you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred, fucking you faster. “Cum all over my hand.”

You had been teetering right on the precipice, ready to dive off and fall apart at the seams. So, when his words vibrated against the pulse point in your neck, you had no choice but to let go. Every nerve ending sparked and your back arched off the wall as you squeezed his thrusting digits.

“Jesus, doll,” Bucky grit out. “Can’t wait to get my cock in you.” As if to prove his point, he started unbuckling his belt with one hand. He shoved down his pants and freed his cock all while your climax was thrumming through you.

One moment you were pressed to the fridge, whimpering and begging for more, and the next, Bucky had you bent over the counter, your ass in the air, and your legs spread.

“Oh, I’m going to give you more, baby girl.”

The darkness in his voice made your pussy clench in anticipation, and it must have been quite the sight for him, because he was groaning.

“Do it again,” Bucky directed you in the same tone.

You did it again, sighing happily as your release dripped down the inside of your thighs. The swipe of skin on skin made you aware that he was stroking himself, that he was more than enjoying what he was seeing.

“C’mon, baby,” you cooed, glancing over your shoulder. “I thought you said you were going to give me more.”

Bucky gave you a wicked smirk before bringing his hand down on your ass, spanking you. “Patience, Y/N. I’m gettin’ to it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but all that came out was a grunt of surprise as Bucky entered you swiftly. In all the years you and Bucky had been together, you’d never felt his cock as hard as it was at that very moment. The large vein on the underside was pulsing heavily, sending small jolts or pleasure through your pussy.

Bucky gripped your hips and slowly pulled out until only the tip remained as he warned you to, “Hold onto somethin’.”

You had just gripped the edge of the counter when he slammed into you. He hadn’t been lying; he was going to give you exactly what you asked for and you couldn’t wait.

The man behind you swore crudely as he fucked you, the word drawn out and heavy sounding. He did it again and again, both hands on your hips for a minute before one of them slid up your spine and gripped your shoulder.

With every grunt-inducing thrust and every drag of his thick cock, you soared closer to another orgasm, until finally, you were shattering apart from the inside out. The air was stolen from your lungs as you tightened around Bucky, your walls pulsating, quivering, beckoning him to follow suit.

Bucky was close behind, his thrusts growing sloppy before finally spilling inside of you. “Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed at the way your walls continued to flutter, squeezing the sensitive head of his cock.

You continued to lay there, gasping for air, your eyes closed, and your legs shaking as Bucky pulled out. “I do- don’t think I ca- can make it up the sta- stairs,” you panted before licking your lips. “And I’m thi- thirsty.”

Bucky gave a gravelly chuckle as he tucked himself into his boxer briefs and fixed his pants. “Stay there, I’ll get you some water after I clean you up.”

A warm and damp paper towel cleaned up the mess between your legs and what had started pooling on the floor. Next, Bucky helped you stand and waited until you finished drinking before he picked you up, and carried you bridal style up the stairs.

You nestled into his neck and breathed him in. “I love you, Senator.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Barnes.”

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He hid in the tall shrubbery and watched through the large windows as Bucky fucked his wife, on the kitchen counter, of all places. Although, if the man were in Bucky’s place right then, he’d more than likely do the exact same thing. Y/N was stunning; it was no wonder Bucky asked her to marry him fresh out of college.

While he had been in the asylum, he had seen every single one of their outings. It didn’t matter if it was something as simple as attending a baseball game, or an event such as tonight had been; he made sure he could see it.

Watching Bucky was like studying for an exam that would make up seventy-five percent of the final grade. Only, there were no second chances, no extra credit work that could be handed in. This was real life. That meant impossible-to-make decisions and consequences for improper and inappropriate actions, and God, he couldn’t wait to see the look in Bucky’s eyes when the two men were finally face-to-face.

He wanted to immediately announce himself, dive through the glass and rise up, showing himself to the very man that should have saved him. They had promised each other when they were young that nothing, nothing would come between them, and for ten years, they each honored that promise, but he should have known it was too good to last. He should have known that the worst kind of betrayal came at the hands of his own family.

Lesson fucking learned.

The only silver lining to being locked away for the past twenty years was that he had plenty of time to come up with a plan, and it was fucking perfect. But, for it to remain perfect, he had to stay hidden until the time was right. He just had to wait until tomorrow before he could start enacting his revenge.

As Bucky carried his wife out of the kitchen and the lights were turned off, the peeping Tom shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“Get a good night sleep, brother. Because tomorrow your whole life is going to change.”

THREE

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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 @coal000 @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 @mcu-peterparker @inhyoung @sebashtiansatan @bookscoffeeandracoons @directionerfae @little-big-mac2 @lookwhatyoumademequeue @missrandomista @readsalot73 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @octo-cow52 @sarcasmoverlordxo @that-awkwardnerd @youmemealottome @logan8546 @rumoured-whispers @nerdgirljen @givemethatgold

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.

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“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.”

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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!”

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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

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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.

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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.

ONE

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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

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

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

*Series has an unknown amount of chapters

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Coming Soon

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