ell0ra-br3kk3r

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier Enemies 2014 Captain America: Civil War Acquaintances 2016 The Falcon & The Winter Soldier Friends 2021 Captain America: Brave New World Best Friends 2025

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

Imagine waking up to this everyday 🥺❤️

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

i want more marvel mutualsss

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

im backkkkkkkkk

Fingers Intertwined

pairing: kaz brekker x wife!reader

genre: fluff

requested: yes

el's thoughts: i haven't written for kaz in a while, and the last time i did i was writing tpatc and it's very different from this kaz... but i hope i didn't lose my touch hahaha

kaz masterlist

Kaz Brekker did not hold hands.

That much was a well known fact.

He did not wrap an arm around anyone’s waist, did not let someone lean into his side as they walked. He did not allow softness in a place like Ketterdam, where softness got you killed. And yet—here he was, threading through the shadowed alleys with Y/N’s fingers laced between his own, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t that he disliked it—no, Kaz had long since come to terms with the fact that Y/N had a way of bypassing his usual aversions without even trying. A casual brush of her hand here, a fleeting touch there, and suddenly his body had started learning that her touch wasn’t a threat. It was warmth. It was safety. It was simply her.

But the real problem was the looks.

He could feel the stares burning into him from the dim-lit streets, the way the few who recognized him faltered in their steps, eyes darting to where his gloved fingers curled so easily around hers, her diamond ring on display. He was Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. He was not the kind of man who strolled around holding hands with his wife.

And yet, here he was.

He should have seen it coming, really. The moment Y/N walked into his life, Kaz had known—deep in that part of him that he rarely acknowledged—that she was going to be trouble, stir the waters of his life. Not in the way most people were trouble for him. No, she was his kind of trouble.

She had slipped into Ketterdam like a whisper against the tide, moving through the Barrel with quiet confidence, always watching, always listening. She had been careful, at first, keeping her distance from him. But then she spoke. And that was the first crack.

She had a way of talking to him like he was just a man—not a myth, not a monster. She met his sharp edges with unwavering patience, never pushing, never prying. And yet, somehow, she had gotten past all his walls without even trying.

He hadn’t realized how far he had fallen until it was too late. Until he caught himself watching her instead of his surroundings, until his hands started reaching for hers before his mind could catch up. Until she leaned close to him one evening, her breath barely ghosting against his jaw, and murmured, “You care for me, don’t you?”

And Kaz—ruthless, cold, untouchable Kaz—had not been able to lie.

So he had married her. Because there was no one else in the world he trusted with his name, with his future, with the fragile, broken thing in his chest that still dared to beat.

“Are you aware,” he murmured now, low enough for only her to hear, “that you do an awful lot of public displays of affection?”

Y/N barely glanced up at him, utterly unfazed as she adjusted her grip on his hand, squeezing gently. “Is that your way of telling me to stop?”

Kaz exhaled through his nose. “I didn’t say that.”

She turned her head toward him, a soft, amused smile tugging at her lips. “So you don’t mind?”

He could have lied. Could have let his pride dictate his answer. But the thing was, if he truly minded, he wouldn’t have let her do it in the first place. Afterall, he was still the Bastard of the Barrel

Kaz glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at her expectant face. “I mind the staring,” he admitted. “But not this.”

Her expression softened, and before he could react, she stopped walking, tugging him to a halt. Without hesitation, she lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to his gloved knuckles, completely ignoring the way a drunkard down the street sputtered at the sight.

Kaz sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re not making this any better.”

Y/N grinned up at him and tilted her head in faux innocence, the dim alley light casting a glow over her features. “Better for who?”

He shook his head, exasperated, but didn’t let go of her hand.

And when they started walking again, Kaz Brekker—the infamous Dirtyhands—kept holding on.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

An (Almost) Unheard Confession

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: soft fluff

requested: yes

el's thoughts: i hope yall like it!! requests are open, so if you have any, feel free to send 'em my way!

bucky masterlist

Bucky and Y/N’s friendship had been forged in the middle of chaos. She had joined the Avengers a couple of years ago—sharp, capable, with a heart too big for her own good. Unlike most people, she had never looked at him with fear or hesitation, never treated him like a walking weapon.

At first, Bucky had kept his distance. He was used to being on the outskirts, keeping people at arm’s length. But Y/N didn’t let that happen. She had a way of worming into people’s lives, into their hearts, without even trying.

She checked in on him without making a big deal about it—making sure he ate after long missions, dragging him into movie nights with the team, and bringing him coffee exactly the way he liked it. She talked to him like he was just Bucky, not the Winter Soldier, not Steve Rogers’ best friend from the 40s—just Bucky.

And somehow, without realizing it, she had become his best friend.

She was the one who could make him chuckle even on the worst days, the one he trusted with the pieces of himself he still didn’t fully understand. She was the one who saw him—not who he used to be, not who the world thought he was, but who he was actively trying to become.

And somewhere along the way, he had fallen for her.

He had tried to push it down, bury it deep where it couldn’t ruin everything. She deserved better than him. Deserved someone who didn’t come with blood on his hands and ghosts in his head. So he stayed silent, stayed in his place as her friend, even when it hurt more than he’d ever admit.

Because having her in his life—no matter what—was worth everything.

~

The compound was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled in after a mission, when exhaustion weighed too heavy on everyone’s bones to do anything but rest.

Bucky sat on the couch, head tipped back against the cushions, muscles aching from the fight earlier. He should get up, take a shower, maybe even crash in his own bed for once. But Y/N had dozed off beside him, legs tucked under her in a way that was bound to cause her slight pain when she woke up, curled up under a blanket, and he hadn’t moved since.

She looked peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, her breathing steady with her lips parted. A strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and Bucky had to resist the urge to brush it back. He clenched his metal hand into a fist instead.

He should leave. Should get up before he did something stupid—like say something he couldn’t take back.

But the weight of his feelings pressed against his ribs, suffocating in the silence.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. “Maybe it was always there. I just refused to let myself see it.”

Y/N didn’t stir. Bucky exhaled, he rested his head on the back of the couch and tilted it so his eyes lingered on her peaceful form.

“You take care of everyone, you know that? Always checking in, always making sure I’m eating, sleeping, not losing myself in my own head.” He huffed a whisper of a laugh. “You probably don’t even realize how much you really mean to me.”

His fingers curled against his thigh. He’d faced enemies, and fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, but this—this was terrifying.

“I care about you, Y/N. More than I should. More than I know how to handle.” His voice was barely above a whisper now. He finally brought his hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, his cold metal finger dragging across her soft, warm cheek. “But I don’t wanna mess this up. I’d rather have you as my friend than risk losing you completely. But I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. I’m–what did Parker call me?” he muttered to himself. “Down bad. I’m down bad, Y/N. I love you.”

He swallowed, his chest tightening.

“Guess it’s easier to say this when you’re asleep, huh?”

Silence.

Bucky let out a slow breath, shaking his head at himself. He should really get up, and put some space between them before—

“Bucky…”

His entire body went rigid.

Y/N’s voice was groggy, quiet, but there was something else in it too—something careful, something knowing. She lazily reached out and laced their fingers together, the metal bringing her comfort against her hand. She moved closer and softly laid her head on his shoulder.

“I love you too.”

His heart slammed against his ribs.

She had heard everything.

Bucky froze, barely breathing, as Y/N's words settled into his chest.

She loved him too.

For a moment, all he could do was stare down at their intertwined fingers, at the way she had instinctively sought out his touch like it was the most natural thing in the world. He had spent so long convincing himself that his feelings were one-sided, that loving her was something he had to keep buried. But here she was, curling closer, her heartbeat steady against his arm, as if loving him had never been a question.

A shaky breath left his lips.

“You—” He swallowed, shaking his head with a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You heard all of that?”

Y/N hummed against his shoulder, her voice laced with exhaustion but warm with amusement. “Mhm. Every word.”

Bucky groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. “Great. So you heard me say I was ‘down bad’ too.”

She chuckled, squeezing his fingers. “Oh, definitely. That was my favorite part.”

He glanced down at her, and for the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel like running from what he wanted. She was right here, looking up at him with tired, fond eyes, no hesitation, no second-guessing.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I really love you, Y/N.”

Her smile softened, and she shifted, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I really love you too.”

He exhaled and the tension in his chest unraveled, replaced with something lighter, something hopeful. Slowly, carefully, he lifted their joined hands and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of hers, letting himself savor the warmth of her skin against his lips as he closed his eyes in contentment.

Y/N sighed blissfully, her grip on him tightening as she settled against him once more. “Can we talk more about this in the morning? ‘Cause I really just wanna fall asleep right here.”

Bucky chuckled, wrapping an arm around her, holding her close. “Yeah, doll. We can talk in the morning.”

And for the first time in years, tomorrow didn’t seem so scary—it felt like the start of something good.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

its been nearly 10 years and we still don’t know wether olivia is a person, an emotion or a place

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

So many books to read & piano & a degree in biochemistry & a field I get genuine fulfillment from committing to… realizing I’m at the intersection of everything I love and adore and that things are only getting so much better from here bc this is just the beginning of my one wild & precious life

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

— The Lakes , Taylor Swift (Folklore)

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

fanfic writers NEVER contemplate or apologise for your fic being over 3-5k words long, we readers LOVE longer fics!! anyways have a good day/night 🙂‍↕️

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

"English isn't my-"

Hush now my friend, and let me read the absolute beauty of a fic that you have bestowed this world and humiliated the first English speakers with

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

👀👀👀

Reblog this post to ask mutuals to tell you their weirdest theory about u

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

The art of eye contact

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

this too shall pass but like… when

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

i'm in love

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

The Bluebird Bookstore

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: flufff

el's thoughts: second time writing for bucky!! it's probably a lil ooc, but i figured i'll post it anyway. hope yall like it!!

masterlist

Bucky never expected to meet someone like Y/N.

She wasn’t like the people he met these days—those who treated him like a war hero, a monster, or a walking ghost. She didn’t look at him like he was something broken that needed fixing or something dangerous that needed monitoring. No, Y/N looked at him like he was just… Bucky.

And that was something he wasn’t sure he deserved. 

He met her at a quiet little bookstore tucked away in Brooklyn, the kind of place that reminded him of the 1940s—dusty wooden shelves, warm lighting, and the faint smell of old paper and coffee. Steve had suggested he start getting out more, “reintroducing” himself to the world. Bucky had scoffed at first, but then he stumble into The Bluebird Bookshop on accident, really.

Or maybe on purpose… He didn’t know anymore.

What he did know was that Y/N had been there, curled up in one of the worn armchairs, completely engrossed in a book. She hadn’t noticed him at first, which was, honestly, a rare occurrence for Bucky. People always noticed him—either because of the metal arm, the history attached to his name, or the hesitance in his posture,

But she hadn’t even looked up. At least he didn’t see her glance at him.

Y/N had noticed him lingering, flipping through an old Hemingway novel, pretending to read but really just watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was completely lost from the plot but continued to flip the pages to distract herself. She bit her lip when she tried to concentrate, brows furrowed slightly as she still felt his eyes on her. She closed the book softly and smiled as she looked up.

Bucky froze, caught red-handed staring. He had expected wariness, maybe even fear in her eyes. Instead, Y/N continued to smile—this soft, knowing thing that made his stomach flip in a way he didn’t quite understand.

“Didn’t take you for a Hemingway guy,” she had said, tilting her head.

Bucky had blinked, then glanced down at the book in his hands like he had forgotten he was holding it.

“Uh–yeah. I mean… I was,” he muttered awkwardly. “Back in the day.”

That had piqued her interest.

“Back in the day, huh?” she had mused, eyes flicking over him curiously. Then she had gestured to the seat across from her. “You want to talk books, Hemingway?”

And somehow, that was how it started.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky kept finding himself at The Bluebird Bookshop. He told himself it was because he liked the atmosphere, the quiet, the books. But deep down, he knew the real reason.

Y/N.

She had this way of making him feel… normal. She never asked about his past unless he brought it up. Never tiptoed around him like he was fragile. Instead, she talked to him about books, music, history, and sometimes, her life.

She loved reading in her free time, obviously. Had a soft spot for old jazz records and always carried a notebook where she scribbled down thoughts, half-finished poems, and ideas for stories she swore she would write one day.

She was good, in a way that didn’t feel forced. And Bucky found himself wanting to be around that goodness.

He tried to keep his distance at first, afraid of what it meant, what he was feeling. But Y/N was patient, and steady. She let him move at his own pace, never pushing, never demanding.

And Bucky?

Bucky fell.

It happened slowly, in the quiet moments between conversations about books and late-night walks home. In the way, she made him coffee just how he liked it, without him ever telling her. In the way she always saved a seat for him at the bookshop, like she just knew he would show up.

In the way, she looked at him—not like he was a soldier or a killer or a man out of time.

Just Bucky. 

Her Bucky.

And maybe, just maybe that was enough.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r]

yo i found the photo used of sambucky in brave new world

it’s from D23. i knew i recognized it from somewhere