Enamored 36 - Sneak Peek

Born In Flames || Chapter One

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of a mafia boss was hard enough growing up. You got out and made a new life for yourself as a bartender only to be sucked in when your old man made a bad deal and he thinks you need protection. Enter Bucky Barnes, your new bodyguard and roommate.

Warnings: Some mafia business talk but that’s about it for now

Word Count: 2,646

Authors Note: Finally decided to start on this bad boy! And yes, Duff’s is a real rock bar in Brooklyn! I did some research on places and now I really want to visit it! Also the title comes from one of my favorite bands, In This Moment! Enjoy! If you would like to be added to the tag list, send me a message/ask. I prefer you not to write it in the comments on this post. Thank you.

Born In Flames Masterlist

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We need to talk, come to the office tonight at 5.

You stared at the text message sent from your father, scoffing at the idea of him needing to talk to you. It had been months since you saw him face to face, and that was only because you went to your aunt’s funeral. The two of you spoke minimally, not seeing a reason to give updates on life.

Your father, Michael, had spent his life growing up in the mafia world. His father before him ran Brooklyn and handed it off to his son when his body started to slow down. You were born into the life, but there was a difference. You didn’t like it. Every time you wanted to go out, you had to have an escort. One of his men would follow you around, whether it was the mall or just sitting outside in the car at a friend's home. It was a pain in your ass but you learned how to hide from them. Escape through windows, duck through a group of people, shut off your phone so the tracker they had in it stopped working. You became your fathers biggest problem for a while.

When your mother died, it devastated you. You were only 19 and she was the one person in the world who would let you rant about your father. You couldn’t exactly tell your friends what Michael did for a living. Your mother tried to talk some sense into him but it never worked. You left home after her funeral and didn’t look back. Michael would try to message you from time to time, wanting to form some sort of relationship. You didn’t care though. He took enough of your life away growing up and now you finally had freedom.

You lived in an apartment in lower Brooklyn, just a two bedroom place that overlooked a park. You made amazing money at your job, working as a bartender at a rock bar named Duff’s. Music, beer, and metalheads willing to throw bills your way for another shot. How could you want anything else? You had been there for about eight years now and it kept the lights on at home.

You have 30 minutes to talk to me. I’m not going to be late for my shift because of you.

You sent the text back and rolled over in bed, curling up around one of your pillows. Duff’s was only open from 6pm to 4am so you were certainly a night owl. Why did he want to talk anyways? Had he not gotten the hint that you wanted to avoid him for the rest of your life? The only thing that kept you connected to your old life was your name, that was it. Checking the time on your phone, it was only noon. Grumbling, you knew sleep wouldn’t come back now that you were thinking about what Michael needed to see you for. Pushing the covers back, you decided to go about your day as usual. Shower, breakfast on the fire escape as you watched the people in the park, and a quick little conversation with your neighbor.

Miss Liz was a little old lady who seemed to come from her hippie days. She told you all about Woodstock and her crazy stories of the antics she got into. If you didn’t know it, you would have thought she came straight out of Dazed And Confused. There were days she would set a Tupperware container of goodies out for you if she wasn’t going to be home to talk with you. In return, you got her the best weed and left it in the container by her windowsill.

Things had been going great. The only thing you could really complain about were the neighbors to the other side, who seemed to be having nightly arguments. Little did the wife know, the husband was cheating on her during the day. Sometimes you wanted to intervene, but you decided it wasn’t your place.

You cleaned up the apartment, making sure the dishes were done and the guest room you had turned into a little hobby room was organized. A day bed sat inside while your computer setup was on the other side, along with a shelf unit with art supplies. You had a tendency to move back and forth between it all, depending on your mood.

By four pm, you decided to get ready for work. It took about twenty minutes to get to your fathers office and then from his office to your job, about fifteen. You didn’t want to change clothes and you didn’t honestly care what Michael would say about your attire. Growing up, he always wanted you to be a part of his business, but you couldn’t find it in you to be one of his minions.

Putting your hair up in a curled ponytail, you slid on a cropped tee with Duff’s written across the front. You decided on jean shorts with black fishnets since it was on the warmer side today and pairing it with your favorite boots. It fit the aesthetic of the bar you worked at which often had metal bands playing and visiting. Grabbing your bag and making sure you had everything, you sighed and tried to remain calm on the drive to the office you grew up around.

Pulling up outside, you gazed up at the building. A bubble of anxiety started in your chest and it grew when you stepped out and walked in. You flipped off the front desk as they asked for your name and you walked to the elevators, pressing the button to go up. It took a moment while you avoided the security guard, but all you said was that your father needed to speak with you. That seemed to shut him up. You got into the elevator and went up to the top floor where his office always sat. You got odd looks from people as you walked through, keeping your head high and your walking pace fast. Checking your phone, you saw it was 5:01. Perfect.

You didn’t care to knock as you swung the door open. Your father sat at his desk, in the middle of a conversation with a man who sat in a chair on the opposite side. The man had his back to you as Michael stood and gave you a glare.

“I see you still don’t knock. What are you wearing?” He asked, crossing his arms over his grey suit.

“I have to work. Now what did you want besides critiquing my clothing?” You raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips.

“Right. Work. Must be some job…” he mumbled with an eye roll. “Seems I have an enemy who knows just where that bar is. Duff’s, right?” He asked, though he didn’t give you a moment to respond as he pulled out surveillance photos and laid them out on his desk. “I was sent these this morning. Someone has been watching you and I feel like they’re going to try to use you as a way to get me to give in on this deal,” he stood back.

You frowned and walked over, ignoring the man sitting in the seat beside you as you leaned over the desk and looked at the photos. They had all been taken over the last week. Going to work, leaving work, your car, even your morning routine of talking to Miss Liz on the fire escape. You leaned up and looked over at Michael.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I haven’t spend a day in your world for almost a decade and now I’m the one being watched? Great, Mike, just fucking great. So let me guess, you made a bad deal again and I have to go into hiding again. The only difference is that mom isn’t here to actually give a shit about making sure I’m happy through it all!” You yelled, not caring who heard you outside of the office. “I should have known something was up when you wanted me to come here. You screwed up my childhood and now you’re trying to screw up the freedom I made for myself.”

“Enough, Y/N!” Michael spat, raising his voice as you took a step back. “What I do with my business is none of your concern and no, I’m not putting you into hiding. Meet Bucky,” he said, motioning to the man sitting in the chair. You looked down and met his eyes for a brief second before looking back at your dad. “He’s going to be your bodyguard until this blows over.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “That’s cute. A bodyguard, really? What, he stays with me at work and sits outside my apartment? Hope you like the fire escape buddy,” you said sarcastically.

“Actually, no. Bucky will be moving in with you. I believe your apartment has two bedrooms, yes? And you live alone?” He asked, looking over a paper that you assumed had everything about your apartment building. You knew he had his ways, you just hated that he did it. Using them for his enemies was one thing. On you? That pissed you off.

“So he’s gonna live with me? How is that fair? And how long do you think this will be before it blows over? I remember being stuck at the lake house for seven months before I was able to see my friends again and I was twelve. I’m not gonna quit my job because you suck at being a mafia boss,” you crossed your arms. If Michael could blow steam from his ears, he would.

“You can whine all you want. Wherever you go, he goes. Work, home, the store, anywhere. Don’t expect this to be fixed anytime soon because I have been dealing with this guy for years and he is one of the most ruthless in the business. I trust Bucky to watch over you. He’s been on my team for a long time now and he will make sure you stay safe,” Michael explained, taking a seat in his large brown leather chair.

You stared at you father for a few moments, wanting to sock him straight in the nose for swooping in and fucking up your life again. But you knew he probably had another plan if you didn’t take the first. Perhaps posting other guards up around your job and work, having someone secretly following you around. He wasn’t above doing any of that.

“Fix your fucking mess so I can get back to never having to see your face again,” you said, turning and walking towards the door. As you pulled the handle, you glanced back to see Bucky still seated. “Let’s go, guard dog,” you spat before walking out.

Michael sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you this wouldn’t be easy.”

“I can handle a little whining. I’ll update you at the end of every day,” Bucky nodded and stood, collecting his duffel bag that had his personal belongings that he would be taking to your place.

Michael gave a slight wave towards the door, knowing you were halfway to the elevator by now. Bucky walked out and shut the door behind him, putting on an emotionless expression as he hurried his steps to catch up with you.

The two of you rode down in silence, and it continued on the way to the car. Once inside, you noticed the bag he tossed in the back seat and rolled your eyes.

“Do not touch my shit in the spare room. I’ll clear out space in the closet but no touching my art stuff or the computer. I’m assuming he told you I work nights? Hope you enjoy metal music and loud people,” you said as you pulled out of the parking spot and drove off.

Bucky gave a slight nod to acknowledge what you said, but he didn’t feel the need to say anything. He was only meant to watch over you, not make friends. You couldn’t take his silence so you turned the radio up, fighting against the traffic to make it to the bar. You were opening up tonight and you weren’t sure how your boss would take to having a guy sitting there, watching you the whole time. But Duff was a cool guy, so you knew he would probably just offer to get Bucky drunk.

Pulling up in the back, you sifted through your keys as Bucky looked at the building. How could you give up the life of being a mafia princess for something like this? He wasn’t sure he would be able to ever understand it. Stepping out, he followed you inside after you unlocked the door.

Leading him into the main part, you pointed to a table in the back. “Better post up there for the night,” you sighed before starting the opening motions. Lights, glasses, music, checking stock, wiping everything down, filling the ice bin, getting the register ready.

Bucky watched you, his arms crossed as he leaned back in the chair. You were a spitfire, someone who probably could take care of herself in a fight. He heard the stories Michael told him about you and how you were as a child. Leaving the mafia business was bound to happen. But unlike those other guards you grew up with, Bucky wasn’t going to easily let you slip through his fingers.

Work had gone pretty simple that night, the usuals coming in and requesting songs as well as shots to get fucked up. Since it was the middle of the week, it wasn’t as crowded as the weekends. Bucky kept an eye on you, to the point of a few patrons mentioning that a “creepy man in a suit staring at you”. You brushed it off and said it was an old friend waiting for you to get off work. They didn’t mention it again after you offered them a drink.

It was hard to work with eyes on you. It was one thing when someone was trying to wave you down from the end of the bar, but something entirely different when some guy your father paid just stared. If it was any other situation, you would have found him quite handsome. The cropped hair, blue eyes, strong jaw, beefy build, it looked good. Or maybe you had been touch deprived for too long. Dating was never your thing and one night stands seemed boring. You tried it a couple times but the men didn’t even know where to find your clit, let alone how to make you cum. Your vibrator was your best friend and now it seemed like you may have to use it in secret. The thought made you roll your eyes.

By the end of the shift, your feet ached and your back was screaming. One of the other bartenders called in sick so you worked double time to get the drinks out. You had worked the last five days in a row and thankfully tomorrow was your day off, though it was silly to think you could do anything now without the guard dog on your ass. You shoved the tips in your bag and clicked off all the lights after locking the front door, ready to get into bed.

“Let’s go,” you said to Bucky, the first words you had spoken to him throughout the whole shift.

Bucky stood and followed you out, noticing the slight limp now that the adrenaline of the shift was gone. “Want me to drive?” He asked as you two made it to the car.

“Nope, don’t want anything from you,” you muttered, sliding into the driver's seat.

Bucky gritted his teeth and got in.

Babysitting you was going to be harder than he thought.

~~~

Tag list: @borikenlove @bitchassbucky @babyboibucky @buckybarneschokeme @buckys-blue-eyes @vanillanaps @bibbidibobbidibucky @spicynudlesoup @bemine-bucky @suchababie

How did I not hear about France banning hijabs? What’s going on?

long story short, there’s legislation in the process of being passed that would

ban girls under 18 from wearing any form of religious head covering in public, and although it’s obviously aimed at muslim women, it would also affect other faith groups that practice similar forms of modest dress

ban islamic swimwear in schools and public (there is already a modest swimwear ban in place at public beaches, this just extends it)

ban mothers wearing hijab from entering schools or participating in school field trips or extra curriculars

ban the slaughter of halal poultry - the cheapest and most easily accessible form of meat protein for the muslim community

extend school hijab bans to universities

prevent muslim women from choosing healthcare providers based on gender (which many muslim women prefer to do, since many exams require removal of clothing, etc)

ban muslim parents from homeschooling

force halal markets to sell pork and alcohol or face closure

ban foreign flags at weddings

This is golden !!! 😭😂

Enamored Extra Scene - 15

[Set in : After chapter 36]

Warnings: Explicit language, drinking, Regency era social norms, mentions of sex

“Remind me again why we are meeting here instead of the gentlemen’s club?”

Keep reading

Well hello people who can think in their heads! I can’t !

So basically I can fonction without making sentences in my head and sometimes I force myself to actually think. And also when I read or write something there are no voices in my head.

This is earth shattering, I can’t believe there are people, who don’t think in sentences??? What the fuck is an abstract non-verbal thot? Y’all hoes think in Pictionary???? What the fuck

i love when i “make a mental note” of something. it’s gone within 20 seconds

Omg you mothers are amazing !!!

I really cannot understand how you manage to do so much !! 😭

I’m sending you all the love ❤️ !! And good luck for everything!

And it blows my mind how you can write such good fics while having so little time ! YOU ARE AMAZING 🤩

Blessing you with these two fine ass men because I haven’t been able to interact with you today and I missed you 🥺❤️

I miss you too!!! Work is kicking my ass today and I haven’t had a second to write anything 😢

I’m just going to spend my break drooling over these handsome men 🤤🤤🤤 ahhhh I need to watch season 6 so I can remember how sexy Tommy is!

Ps: I got your request and I am happy to write it babe ❤️❤️

Consider this my big hug for you !!!

Missed you really much !

Oh god it’s been so long !!! I’m scared to send you this because I anxious part of me is scared that you forgot me 🥲

But I genuinely missed you and your fics so much imma binge read everything that you wrote in a month !!

Eid al-Fitr Mubarak! I missed you too lovely, I could never, ever, ever forget you. I literally squealed when I saw your icon, I'm so happy that you are back ♥️

Born In Flames || Chapter Seven, Part Two

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of a mafia boss was hard enough growing up. You got out and made a new life for yourself as a bartender only to be sucked in when your old man made a bad deal and he thinks you need protection. Enter Bucky Barnes, your new bodyguard and roommate.

Warnings: Minor character deaths, non-con (no explicit details, just mentions), blood, torment, slight disassociation, kidnapping

Word Count: Both chapters together are a bit over 5K

Authors Note: So this chapter got dark, and long. So it’s split up into two parts. I’m putting the same warnings on both parts as well, though the second part is slightly less dark but still heavy.

Born In Flames Masterlist

Part One

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Bucky was surprised the drive took so long, though he caught glimpses of signs as the headlights hit them. They were still in New York, but definitely not the city. He wondered if Pierce was taking some random route to ambush him, but with a gun to his head, it wouldn’t be a smart idea.

The roads turned into the woods and soon the car was slowly pulling up to a dimly lit cabin. Bucky saw all of the men posted outside and there was no doubt more inside.

“Get out,” Bucky said. They both left the car at the same time, the gun never leaving sight of Pierce. Once he rounded the car, he grabbed Pierce and used him as a shield while the men realized what was happening and approached with their own guns.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Bucky called out.

He didn’t see the man who had just finished taking a piss farther out in the trees, but he heard the soft crunch of twigs and dead leaves beneath his feet. Bucky pulled the gun away for one second and shot at the spot the sound came from.

It seemed his days in battle overseas really aided him. He hit his mark before returning to the men. He didn’t necessarily have a plan for the moment but he knew he had to act fast. Gripping Pierce even harder, Bucky started to shoot each of the men he saw. None of them fired back, knowing it would kill their boss before it ever hit Bucky. Four men down and one in the woods.

“I should say you’re a shitty boss for even leaving them outside in this cold,” Bucky muttered as snow started to fall. Pushing him towards the door, Bucky whispered “knock.”

Pierce did as he was told and before he knew it, Glen/Matthew opened the door.

He reached for his gun but Bucky shot him right between the eyes, though he added a couple more rounds for even betraying his job. Stanley shot up from beside you, your worn out body curled up. It was evident that something had just finished happening within the last hour. Your panties were off to the side and you looked as though you had struggled to shield yourself with the oversized shirt.

Bucky's eyes grew wide as he put two and two together, piecing it all in place. “You sick fuck!” He yelled, causing you to wake with a whimper of pain. You were dazed as Stanley’s body was shot even more, dropping in front of you.

Sitting up, you curled into the couch when you saw Pierce. But then Bucky’s face appeared from behind him and you froze.

“Bucky?” You whispered, your voice hoarse from all of the screaming.

“A whore like her mother,” Alexander scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Bucky quickly turned him around and shot him in the forehead. His body toppled backwards, hitting Stanley’s slightly. He couldn’t stop himself from emptying the rounds into all three of the bodies on the floor. The gun clicked, signaling they were all gone. Tossing the gun to the side, not having to worry about prints due to his gloves, he slowly stepped over the bodies and to you.

You shook, staring as the blood pouring out of the men. “Is this real?” You asked, wiping at your eyes. Your mind would play tricks on you, your dreams sometimes pleasant only to wake up still in the cabin.

Bucky knelt in front of you, gently taking your hands. He looked you over, disgusted at the way the men used you as a punching bag among other things. Pulling off his jacket, he slid it over your shoulders and cupped your face. You winced, your hands moving to rest on his forearms. You stared at him, gripping him as tightly as your weak hands could, hoping that this wasn’t a dream. You couldn’t bear to wake up from something that felt so real.

“I’m here, Angel. It’s real,” Bucky nodded. Glancing around, he furrowed his brow when he didn’t see any pants for you. “Where are your clothes?” He asked, frowning.

You shuddered and shook your head. “They took them away. I don’t…” you trailed off, knowing that they tossed them in the trash early on. They only ever gave you shirts and underwear, and you were “lucky” to even get those, according to Stanley.

Bucky swore under his breath. Grabbing the panties he did see, he slowly helped you into them and got you on your feet. Your knees wobbled, muscles not yet having found themselves. They never did after those times when you were used. Bucky helped you get your arms into the jacket and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m gonna get you home,” he said. Picking you up, he walked out of the house and got you into the passenger seat of Pierce’s car. Chances were that they wouldn’t have called it in and reported it stolen yet. After all, the owner was dead now.

Once he got you in, Bucky quickly rounded the car and got into the passenger seat. Setting the gps on his phone, he set it on the console and turned the heat up. He had felt your body and you were cold as ice.

Quickly he pulled out of the place and headed back towards the city while you curled up in the seat. “How did you find me?” You asked after a few minutes, facing him. Bucky reached out with his hand and you took it, leaning forward and holding it to your cheek. He was so, so warm and you needed the comfort.

“Forced Pierce to bring me there. We’ve been getting all of those videos and photos. When we got the one from today…” Bucky shook his head slightly and stared at the road. “I couldn’t sit by and watch as you were hurt. I was ready to kill anyone who stood in my way of finding you. I didn’t care if I was going to die, I just…I had to find you.”

You listened, pulling the hood up on Bucky’s jacket to hold the warmth in. He knew taking you to your place wasn’t the best option considering they knew where you lived, but you needed to be home. And without a boss, Pierce’s men didn’t have anyone to answer to.

“Michael and I have been trying to find anything about where you were. He’s been signing things over to Pierce just to get you back, but each time one thing was signed over, Pierce would add on another,” Bucky glanced over at you, how puffy and red your eyes were even in the darkness. “Angel…what did they do to you?”

You looked down, though you didn’t pull away. Admitting to what they did was the hardest thing and you never thought you would have to. You were sure that they were going to kill you. Turning the heat up as much as it could, you closed your eyes. “They…used me. Made me do things I didn’t want to. I can’t…” you shook your head as tears started to fall once more.

Bucky pulled the car over and put it in park before turning to you fully. “Shh. I’m sorry. They will never, ever hurt you again. I promise. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m not leaving you again. Ever.”

You believed him, but you were still scared. Nodding slightly, you took a few deep breaths. He smelled of leather and whiskey, something you didn’t realize you missed until now. Pulling your head back, you looked into his eyes. “You saved me.”

Bucky brushed your tears away with a nod. “I did say I owed you for saving my life, didn’t I?”

You nodded, though a smile didn’t break through. You weren’t sure if you could smile again, but it would come back in time. “Take me home,” you whispered.

Bucky kissed your bruised cheek as gently as he could before pulling the car back onto the road.

Slowly you started to recognize places, knowing home wasn’t too far away. Bucky didn’t pull his hand from yours. He needed to make sure you were there and you needed him there.

The only time he pulled away was when he parked the car outside of Pierce’s house. He made sure no traces were left before leading you to the car he originally drove in with.

The less evidence, the better.

He got you home quickly after that, helping you up to your apartment. When he opened the door, you frowned. It was somewhat messy, though it wasn’t terrible. To-go containers sat on the counter as well as empty water bottles.

“Buck, what is this?” You asked, looking around. “I didn’t have any of this…”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve um…been staying here. In case any of the men came looking for something or if you found your way back somehow.”

You looked at him with a sigh, moving to wrap your arms around him and burying your face into his chest. His wound was more or less healed, though you momentarily even forgot he was shot. “Stay.”

“As long as you want me to,” Bucky spoke against your hair. “Think you can take a shower?” He asked, knowing it would help you at least a little.

You pulled back slightly. “I think so,” you muttered. Bucky didn’t give you a chance to do it yourself. He led you to the bathroom and had you sit on the closed toilet seat while he started it up. You noticed that his hair had started to grow out as well as his beard, but not terribly long. It was more full rather than the scruff you had gotten used to. Various new items sat on the counter. A toothbrush, some mouthwash, and Bucky even put some of his own body wash and such in the shower. Bucky turned back to you and nodded gently.

“I’m going to be right outside, okay? Call out if you need me. I’ll bring back a towel,” he looked down at you and he now saw the fresh writing on your leg closer than before. Breathing out through his nose, he met your eyes.

You noticed it but nodded anyways, pulling him in for a tight hug, or as tight as you could manage. “Thank you,” you whispered before letting him go.

Bucky kissed your temple and stepped out, leaving the door just slightly ajar to hear you better if you needed his help. Slowly standing up, you peeled off the jacket, shirt, and underwear. You couldn’t bear to look into the mirror, afraid of what you might see. The showers you were allowed to take were short and cold, while this one felt nice and inviting. If this was a dream, it was the most realistic one. You began to wash your hair first, caked in grease and sweat. It took you two run throughs of shampoo and conditioner before you felt clean. Then came the body.

You used the favorite soap that hadn’t been touched in a while, lathering up and washing your skin as hard as you could. That’s when the tears started again. You knew it was your hands, but you got flashes of the men’s hands on you again. You sat down at the bottom of the tub and tried to do it slowly, shaking as your hand ran up your inner thigh. You froze, sobbing as you tossed the washcloth and hid your face against your hands.

Bucky had decided to clean up the trash he left, shoving it all into bags and setting it by the front door to take out later or tomorrow. He usually was a very clean man, never liking to see trash scattered around. He wasn’t even one to have a bunch of items in his place. He only went there lately to get clothes and such. Once he was done, he went into the hallway and grabbed a thick, fresh towel. Knocking on the door, he peeked his head in.

“Hey Angel? I brought you a towel,” he said softly, setting it on the counter. When you didn’t answer, he frowned deeply. “Y/N?”

“Thank..you…” you gasped between quiet sobs. Bucky sighed and walked in farther.

“Do you need anything?” He asked. He didn’t want to open the curtain considering you were naked and even though he had just seen more of you today than ever, he wasn’t going to be that guy.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. “Don’t go,” you spoke.

Bucky moved to sit on the toilet, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together. “I’m right here, I promise.”

You sniffled and grabbed the washcloth to try washing yourself again. You had to. You had to get the feeling of all of it off of your skin. Biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut, you quickened your pace and scrubbed your skin even more until it nearly burned. Bucky was right outside of the curtain, and you knew he would help you do just about anything, but you were strong, right? You had to do this yourself. Once you felt like you were about to make yourself bleed from all of the scrubbing, you slowly stood and rinsed yourself off once more before shutting the shower off. Peeking out from behind the curtain, you looked down at Bucky and reached your hand out towards the towel. He handed it to you and you wrapped yourself in it before pushing the curtain back fully.

Bucky kept his eyes on your face as he stood. “I know this isn’t what you want but…go sit in bed. I need to take care of the…cut,” he muttered. Neither of you wanted to talk about it, but you knew he just didn’t want it to get infected.

Nodding, you stepped out of the shower and headed to your room. He gathered the items he needed while you got dressed. Your room had been pretty much untouched, though he had no reason to even step foot inside. You pulled on a long sleeve and some shorts, knowing it would be better for him to get to the cuts. Crawling onto the bed, you sighed and tried to allow your heart to settle. You were home whether it was a dream or not. You leaned back against the pillows. Being in a bed felt so odd after six months on a couch or floor.

Bucky knocked on the door and you called out that he could come inside. He stepped in and closed the door behind him, one arm full of items. Gauze, wrap, antibacterial ointment, and he even grabbed a couple bottles of water and an apple.

“I thought you might be hungry. It’s not much but if they haven’t been feeding you, you’ll have to start small,” he muttered as he climbed onto the bed next to you.

Sitting up, you curled one leg beneath the extended wounded one, taking the apple as he handed it to you with a small thanks. He turned on the light on the nightstand to get a better look. “So you don’t need stitches, but this won’t feel good. Just remember to breathe, okay?” He asked. You nodded, taking a small bite of the apple.

Bucky proceeded to clean the wound, though you chewed on the apple to bite back the pain. You were thankful it was still somewhat fresh so it didn’t start to get infected. You had smaller cuts from when they hit you but not enough that would get gross. You focused on Bucky’s face, how his eyebrows knitted together as he focused. He had bags under his eyes and looked just about as tired as you.

“What did I miss?” You asked, needing a distraction. Bucky glanced over to your face before your pleading eyes told him you needed it.

Bucky sighed and looked back to your leg. “Well, Michael has pretty much put everyone through the ringer since he doesn’t trust anyone anymore. Glen had been loyal for years so it’s pretty warranted. Liz keeps giving me her pot cookies but I don’t do that stuff so I gave them to Michael. I guess he likes them, but don’t tell her I’m not eating them. I gave her the excuse that you were visiting family. Well…I gave everyone that excuse. I went to your job and told them how there was a family emergency so you would be out of work for a while. Your aunt was sick and you had to stay and look after her. Duff seemed pretty okay with it but I know he missed you. Michael…really tried to get you back. He was ready to do what Pierce asked and sign over the whole company. I know he’s been a bad father, but he does care about you,” Bucky’s words were softer at the end.

You kept chewing on the apple as you listened, your free hand resting on your stomach. You were happy that Bucky came up with lies so people didn’t worry, though you sighed when he mentioned Michael caring.

“Don’t tell him I’m home yet, okay? I just…need a night in here,” you mumbled, setting the half eaten apple on the nightstand as you groaned in pain when Bucky put the ointment on. He whispered a soft apology but continued. Taking a sip of water, he then applied a bandage and taped it down so it wouldn’t fall off too easily.

Setting the water down, Bucky gathered the items and headed out to put them away. You looked around, somewhat feeling like a stranger now in your own home. For the last six months, you had been put out and made to feel like you were nothing but a hole, a body to torment. Pulling the blanket over your legs, you curled up on your side and glanced at the clock. Five am. A time you used to go to sleep after work was finished. It made your heart hurt.

Bucky appeared in the doorway, chewing on his lip. “You should get some sleep,” he mumbled.

Looking over at him, you reached your hand out and motioned for him to come closer. Once he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, you took his hand. “Stay with me, please?” You asked, not wanting to be alone. Sure, you hadn’t been alone in months, but you trusted Bucky.

Bucky's heart broke at how scared you looked. Nodding, he squeezed your hand. “Let me go get changed and I’ll be right back, Angel,” he said.

You nodded and let go as he got up, watching him walk out. That nickname was beginning to be your favorite in the world. Your brain drifted off as you waited, trying hard to stay away from the demons that were now going to plague your mind. You didn’t have nightmares much at the cabin, just because they would tire you out by slapping you awake and making sure you didn’t get any decent sleep. Hearing soft footsteps, Bucky walked in and shut the door, having done a check around the home before getting changed. He wore just black pajama pants and a tee. Shutting off the light, he crawled into bed on the other side of you and laid on his side. You turned towards him, the streetlight illuminating his face just enough.

“What’s going to happen now? With Michael and Pierce,” you spoke quietly as Bucky slowly pulled you in and wrapped one arm around your waist. The other slid beneath your pillow, his face just inches from yours. His touch was soft, afraid of breaking you farther.

“I’m not sure. It may be covered up, cleaned up with disappearances and bodies that weren’t found,” Bucky shrugged, which made something trigger in your mind.

“Bodies…Bucky, Pierce has bodies buried around that cabin. He mentioned it the day I was taken there. Who knows how many there are,” you muttered, your hand resting on his cheek as you brushed over his beard.

Bucky frowned and shook his head. “An issue for another day. C’mon, you need sleep,” he whispered, kissing the inside of your wrist. You watched him with soft eyes.

“Guard dog…” you muttered, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. From there, you curled your body against his and tried desperately to relax against him.

Tag list: @crownstealer @borikenlove @bitchassbucky @babyboibucky @buckybarneschokeme @buckys-blue-eyes @vanillanaps @bibbidibobbidibucky @spicynudlesoup @bemine-bucky @suchababie @kaaabiii @rebekahdawkins @sebsbrokentoe @marvel-3407 @acmbooksandfilm @stucky-my-ship @boofy1998 @valsworldofcreativity @yaszx @21st-century-daydreamer @doll1917 @luxeavenger @hallecarey1 @booktease21 @supernatural-love14 @bookstan0618 @pastamomma @broadwaybabe18

Enamored [39] - Honeymoon

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback my loves, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤ 

Summary: Ultimate happiness has no room for distractions.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, some gender specific language and terms, kissing.

Word Count: 9200 

Series Masterlist

 For all your life, you had kept telling anyone who was listening that the happiest day of your life would be when you would get married to the love of your life, and your wedding day was the proof that you were right. You felt nearly dizzy the whole time because of the excitement running through your veins, and you were sure that this was the happiest you could ever be.

But you were wrong in a way.

Your wedding day was perfect, but even that had somehow paled in comparison to what would follow.

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@dilemmaontwolegs you know I love you but if you do that I might just die of sadness

Hi! Uh, could i request some grief prompts? Like uh, A just lost B? If thats too dark you could just do villain x hero prompts instead fkksjs

It’s not too dark at all! I might do villain x hero prompts further down the line.

Grief Prompts

Prompts

A and B were very close but B was never open or affectionate to A. After they died, A goes through B’s stuff and finds a box of trinkets. The box is full of pictures of A and B, momentoes that A gave B, and other things from their relationship.

After B’s death, everyone is gathered together, shocked with grief. A joins the room, chattering happily about something B did earlier, unsure why everyone else looks so upset.

When B was alive, A and B had casual rituals that they would follow without a fault; A would bring B coffee in the morning and leave it on their bedside table, B would make A a sandwich at lunchtime, A would drop a towel into B’s room at 6 because they know that B always showers at 6:30, and so on. After B dies, A can’t help but unconsciously keep doing the rituals.

After B dies, A has to tell B’s much younger sibling. Unsure how to gently break the news to a kid who doesn’t know much about death, A paints a fanciful image of the afterlife.

Everyone knows that B was writing a novel before they passed. A finds the unfinished story, in the process discovering hundreds of ideas and short stories by B (some of them not-so-subtly about A).

(Building off of 5) A takes it upons themselves to finish B’s story. They pour over their notes, go to B’s favourite brainstorming places, and try to figure out how B would end their novel.

Oneliners

“If I knew that those would be my last words to you, I would’ve said something sweeter”

“You son of a bitch, you promised me we’d grow old together. You promised me!”

“I don’t know for sure if angels exist, but if they do, B is one of them”

“Aren’t you supposed to pour out some drink when someone dies, as a sign of respect?” “At this point, I’ll take any excuse to get hammered”

“If you’re still somehow here . . . can you send a sign? Anything?”