Tapestry III

tapestry 👑 III

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader speaks up.

Note: Here’s part 3. I’m still going while I can. Fair warning that I work every day given the holiday season and so I’ll do my best to keep up but so far I’m having fun and you all are too. I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

It was a week before your father returned. A gruelling week.

You weren’t surprised to hear of his arrival from another. Nor disappointed that he didn’t call for you immediately. That was your father’s way. He doted on Alice and shunned you. She brought him esteem with her marriage to a duke and you brought him disgrace with your failure to garner even a betrothal. The convent lurked on your horizon.

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amazing

MOTHER HUMAN – b.b

yandere! Bucky.

Warnings: torture, experimentation, angst, violence, gore, mentions of racism.

a/n: I don’t know what this is, really. i tried to make the reader as ambiguous as possible.

Civil war doesn’t exist.

//

As a child, you’ve always thought that the despair of living could only be portrayed within the gaps of literature. Each printed word, overly saturated on the yellowing pages, running down the page as water from the pipes above tarnished their delicate beauty. You’ve always thought that the monster had been something left for the untouchable parts of your mind, bringing a unique amalgamation of personal and general fear given by the text. What little remains of the dialogue within the books are no longer on the paper, but you’ve engraved it into the back of your head.

You toy with those words when they toy with you.

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The Scoop  —  One Shot

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes laments the fact that every single person he cares about is a dumbass when it comes to their own personal safety. AKA: Bucky Barnes hates every single journalist, newscaster or reporter he’s ever met until you.

Warnings: language, some light smut, canon typical violence. This reader is explicitly a black woman, but I hope other than the brief descriptions of her (and her hair), everyone can enjoy this :)

Words: 13,000

A/N: I’m returning from my complete hiatus to post this because I have zero self-control. But I’ll be gone again for a while— sorry! I hope you enjoy!

Bucky Barnes hates reporters.

Newscasters, journalists, columnists, think piece-writers.

He’s not a fan.

Mostly because they don’t tend to be fans of him, spewing new nonsense every other week about him, he can hardly go to a dollar store without someone making some political statement about it.

Sam told him to ignore it, but it was kind of hard to do that when he was constantly on edge about if a taxi driver was going to throw him out or profusely thank him for his service and invite him to dinner with his whole family. Really, that had happened. Sam has taken pictures, but the haleem and dumpukht had been so good, Bucky had hardly cared.

All of this is to say when he realises the gorgeous brunette in the coffee shop at the bottom of Avengers Tower is a journalist, he bolts before you can even open your pretty lips.

“Hey! Wait! Sergeant—” You’re cut off for a moment as the shop door closes behind him, but he hears the telltale clicking of your shoes on the marble lobby floor moments later as you give chase.

“Sergeant Barnes! Please!” Bucky, unfortunately, has to wait for the elevator to arrive, so at least for another minute, he’s forced to be somewhat near you.

He presses the button at least six times.

“What?” He refrains from growling, and barely passes another glance to you as you catch up.

“I’m a journalist, from—”

“—The New York Times, I know, you have a press badge.” He nods to the laminated employee card on your hip and you look down at it for a moment, before tugging your sweater in vain to cover it up.

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Well, damn.

Damn… . . . . . posted on Instagram - https://ift.tt/2PgnLUe

tapestry 👑 IX

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader is attended to.

Note: Got this done before work yesterday. It was a rough day though and I have some family stuff today so I’m not sure when I can work on more but I’ve been doing okay so far.

I’d like to thank everyone for reading and their support. I am truly astound and humbled by the response to this because it was very much unexpected. Thank you.

(also open to new moodboards for the fic or even playlists for inspo if anyone’s interested.)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋 You guys rock!

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

You barely recalled the ride back to the castle. Lord Barnes reined in your former steed as he led you along the path. His horse was much calmer and followed along diligently ahead of the party. He swiftly dismounted and helped you down from the saddle as the stable hands rushed to take the mounts from him. He barely acknowledged him as you wobbled on your feet.

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The Recruit (4/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings: Steve might be learning a lesson…

Notes: Woohoo another chapter. Thank you all so much for the feedback on this series. I’m glad you’re all enjoying it! Enjoy this next part and let me know what you think! x

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

Tony’s going to have his head once he figures out Steve’s busted another punching bag wide open. He’ll have to make a mental note to buy him some of that really expensive civet coffee he loves to chug so much. For now, he puts another bag on the hook and proceeds to wail on it. He grits his teeth painfully, tries to shove the scene going on behind him out of his head.

You’ve been sidelined, arm bound up in a cast and sling with orders to not push yourself. Shattered wrist, bruised neck, a deep purple necklace around your throat. Spirits high despite your ordeal, your injuries. You’re spotting Bucky, standing over him as he benches an impressive three hundred pounds. Your laughter carrying across the gym to ring inside his head, rattles his insides not unlike an earthquake.

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