ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

wait omg I hope this isn’t too specific of a request!!!

I had this idea of what someone would see in the shame rooms from thunderbolts, and I read your most recent bucky fic which was so good omg 🤩

what do u think of a character with the same background being trained by the winter soldier when she was younger, knowing that those were her darkest moments of near giving up on herself when facing the winter soldier, and he remembers all of it even now. I was also getting the vibe that their interactions in the present are kinda built on this guilt of their past together yk but im not sure how to explain it 😅😅😅 so feel free to tweak the story if u wanted to use the request!

but I love ur work and also the kaz stuff like stop it 🥰🥰🥰 (don’t stop writing lol)

i love youuuu thank you so much!!

here

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

What He Made Her

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: angst, slow to comfort

requested? yes

el's thoughts: i hope yall like itt!

bucky masterlist

The room was cold.

Not physically—at least, not at first. But when the doors to the Shame Room sealed behind her, Y/N felt the temperature drop in her bones. As if the air itself remembered. As if it wanted her to.

She didn’t have to guess what memory would surface. She knew.

The walls blurred, bled into new shapes. The training chamber. Concrete and metal. Red lights overhead. Her arms were trembling from holding a defensive stance for too long, fingers bloodied from gripping the blade too tightly.

And him.

The Winter Soldier.

He stood across from her, silent, unreadable. His face was blank—no recognition, no empathy, no mercy. Just cold execution.

This was the moment. The one she never spoke of.

She stumbled back a step, even though she knew—it’s not real, it’s just a memory—but her breath was caught in her throat.

The day she nearly gave up.

The day she almost let him kill her.

Because she couldn’t do it anymore.

Then the voice returned.

"Again."

It was his voice. Not his now—but his then. Cold. Mechanical.

Y/N dropped the blade in the memory. She remembered that choice. She had stared him down with empty eyes and said:

"If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I don’t care anymore."

She remembered the silence that followed.

But now, standing in the shame room, she could hear something else.

~

A crack.

A pause.

He had hesitated.

Hours later, the door finally hissed open. She didn’t speak as she walked out, arms wrapped around herself like armor.

Bucky was waiting.

He always waited.

But tonight, he stepped forward.

“I know what you saw,” he said quietly.

Y/N stiffened. “Do you?”

He swallowed, gaze low. “You dropped the blade. You looked me in the eye. Said you didn’t care if I killed you.”

Her breath hitched. He remembered. Every detail.

“You didn’t,” she said softly, like the admission would cost her something.

“I couldn’t.”

His voice cracked.

“I wasn’t supposed to hesitate. But I did. I looked at you and—something in me stopped. I didn’t understand it then. I do now.”

She looked at him. Really looked at him.

And for the first time, she realized it wasn’t just her shame buried in that room.

“You remember it all,” she whispered.

Bucky nodded. “Every second. Every command I followed. Every order I gave. Including the ones that broke you.”

There was silence.

Not heavy. Not sharp.

Just… still.

“I hated you,” Y/N admitted. “And I hated myself for hating you, because I knew you weren’t the one choosing it.”

“I hate me, too,” Bucky said, quiet. “But hating myself doesn’t undo what I did to you.”

They stood like that for a long moment—two ghosts of the same war, staring at each other with tired eyes.

Then she spoke again.

“Do you know what else I saw in there?”

He shook his head.

“I saw how strong I was. How I got up every time you knocked me down. How I survived.”

Bucky looked up.

“You did,” he said, almost reverent. “You did.”

She studied him, then whispered, “I need to know something.”

“Anything.”

“If you were him again—if you were still the Soldier—would you have killed me that day?”

His answer came instantly. No hesitation.

“No.”

She nodded slowly.

And maybe it wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet.

But it was truth.

And sometimes, that’s where healing starts.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Kaz Brekker

taglist

{series}

the phoenix and the crow (on going)

back to where it started // back to where it started (2)

he lost his girl // he hadn't lost his girl after all // he found his girl

renegade // he had time (2)

{blurbs}

one last time

stars don't burn forever

silent understanding

all i would've asked

water

dancing

you're cute

apple pie

sunshine to his storm

is that a... dog?

magic girl

a new type of beautiful

the bastard and his crow (male!reader)

vigilante shit

"that's my wife."

{one shots}

the three times she rested on him and the one time he rested on her

the difference (sister!reader)

his whole heart

no harm done

she kept him human

enchanted

back to december

innocent

fingers intertwined

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

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-writes]

Hihihihi how r u doing?

If you're still taking bob requests I've had a fic idea for a while and I wanted to share it with you, if you're not taking them then it's completely alright. So like, the reader and Bob are just like doin whatev and he accidentally sends them both to the void but he's like confused cuz he doesn't recognise the place and he goes, "This- isn't my memory". but she looks around and stares out with an unreadable expression and goes, "No.... it's mine". and it's just it gets super intense in there with all her past memories and it's like, awful for her because when she sees those past versions of herself she remembers, realizes how awful things had really been. And then bob is the one to pull her out of there.

and of course he feels awful and guilty for that incident but later on goes to her and they have like a heart to heart sort of deep conversation.

kind of like a hurt and comfort sort of thing?

i hope my incoherent rambling made some sense😅😅

have a great day!!

i love you and i love this! thank you for sending it innnn

here

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

"This isn't my memory"

pairing: robert "bob" reynolds x fem!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

requested? yes! by my love, @naushtheaspiringauthor

el's thoughts: it's a bit vague... but i hope you like itttt!

bob masterlist

It had started as nothing more than a stray malfunction.

Bob had been testing a new neural-link flight sim, something still deeply experimental and very hush-hush. All of it, hopefully, would give Bob more control of his powers. Y/N had been there because, well—she always was. Watching, teasing, and cheering him on with her soft voice and that quick wit he adored. She wasn’t supposed to be part of the test. But then she laughed and jokingly tapped the touch interface while his neural band was active, and—

Everything went white.

And then, black.

They didn’t land in a desert of empty nothingness, the way sci-fi films showed the void. No, this void was dense. Quiet. Slow-moving shadows, like ink dispersing in water. Heavy.

Bob stood up, blinking in alarm, trying to orient himself. The air hummed, not with life, but with memory. He could feel it. It wasn’t neutral space.

It was personal.

“This…” he breathed out, turning in place, frowning at the eerily flickering images forming in the distance. A bedroom. A classroom. A hallway littered with papers and muffled shouting. “This isn’t my memory.”

Behind him, Y/N stood frozen. Her face was pale, her hands trembling at her sides. Her gaze had locked onto one flickering echo—a younger version of herself, no older than twelve, sitting quietly in a chair while voices screamed in the other room.

“No…” she whispered. “It’s mine.”

Her voice was hollow.

Bob turned sharply, seeing the stiffness in her shoulders, the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Y/N?”

But she was already moving—slow steps forward, toward that memory like she was sleepwalking through smoke. The moment she got close, it shifted. The memory wrapped around her, and Bob saw it happen in real time.

Tears welled in the little girl’s eyes. Not a single one fell.

“I never cried,” Y/N whispered. “I just… sat there. Like it didn’t matter.”

“Y/N—stop.” Bob reached for her arm. “We need to get out of here. Whatever this place is, it’s wrong.”

But more scenes were forming, drawn to her like magnets. A high school hallway. Y/N was at a locker, being jostled by other students who laughed behind her back. Then older—college, maybe, standing at a party where no one noticed she was there. Then—

A hospital room.

Y/N stopped breathing.

Bob looked closer. She was on the bed. Same eyes. Same frame. Hooked to an IV, jaw clenched while a doctor spoke to a disinterested figure in the corner chair.

“I forgot this one,” she murmured. “I made myself forget.”

Her knees gave out.

Bob caught her before she hit the ground, kneeling with her, his arms wrapped tight around her shoulders.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” he said, voice cracking. “I didn’t know it would send us here. I’m so sorry, Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, but her voice didn’t sound okay. It sounded like ash.

She clung to him, shaking. “I thought I was over it. Thought it was all just… in the past. But seeing it like this… I remember it all. How alone I felt. How small.”

Bob rested his forehead against hers. “You're not alone anymore.”

She looked up, startled by the certainty in his voice.

Bob reached out, fingers brushing over her temple—over the invisible thread connecting them to this place. “We’re leaving. I’m pulling us out, okay? But I need you to come with me.”

The void pulsed. Another memory started forming—this one worse—and Y/N flinched, instinct screaming at her to run.

Bob’s hand wrapped around hers.

“I got you,” he said, voice steady this time. “Look at me, Y/N.”

She did. Barely. But it was enough.

He pulled.

Everything ripped.

~

She woke up screaming.

Bob was already there, unstrapping the neural band from her hand, whispering reassurances over and over as her breathing came in wild gasps.

“You’re okay. You’re here. You’re with me.”

She blinked, eyes wild, skin clammy. “Bob…”

“I’m here.”

And he didn’t let go of her hand.

~

It was two days before she spoke about it again.

Bob didn’t push.

They were sitting on his porch, watching the sun bleed into the ocean. She had a blanket over her shoulders and a faraway look in her eyes.

“I think I lied to myself,” she said. “All this time. I pretended those memories didn’t shape me. But they did.”

Bob turned slightly, studying her profile in the orange light. “They made you who you are. But they don’t define you.”

She looked down. “It’s just… hard. I’ve worked so hard to be okay. But seeing her—me—and realizing how much I buried…”

He reached for her hand again.

“You don’t have to be okay all the time.”

She blinked, eyes shining.

“You were a kid,” Bob continued. “A kid who survived a lot of things she shouldn’t have had to. That version of you? I’m proud of her. Because she didn’t give up. And because she became you.”

Y/N exhaled a shaky laugh. “You’re way too good at this emotional support thing.”

“I’m military trained,” Bob said, deadpan. “And also really good at reading manuals.”

She snorted. “There’s not a manual for this.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’ve got one hell of a heart.”

And for the first time in days, she smiled.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, you do.”

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

My first request is a Bob x reader fanfic that follows the storyline of the movie Thunderbolts except for the Sentry bit when Bob’s all golden and changed and stuff. The reader and Bob are both married and they have a daughter named Laoise. By the way,the daughter’s name means abundance. She’s at the age where she babbles and where she learns to walk and talk (I,e,Dada, Daddy,etc). Somewhere in the story,you can add in some fluff with Bob teaching his daughter how to walk and cute stuff between the team and etc. Yelena is an auntie in this story. Ava’s also an aunt and of course Bucky, John and Alexei are the uncles.

i hope you like it!!

here

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Baby's First Steps

pairing: dad!robert "bob" reynolds x fem!mom!reader

genre: fluff

requested? yes @horrormovielover2000

el's thoughts: i hope yall like it!! this is a short little fluffy fic of bob being a dad :)

bob masterlist

The sun poured gently through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the compound’s living quarters, warming the hardwood floors where little Laoise Reynolds sat with a determined pout. Her golden curls bounced as she babbled to herself, her chubby hands smacking her knees in rhythm.

“Dada-da-da,” she chirped, turning her wide hazel eyes up toward the man sprawled on the floor in front of her. Bob Reynolds smiled so softly it could melt metal.

“You almost got it, baby girl,” he said, arms outstretched. “Come to Daddy.”

Y/N peeked out from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel, watching as Laoise planted one tiny foot forward before promptly plopping onto her bottom. A loud thump echoed through the room, followed by a dramatic pause… then giggles.

“She’s not even upset. She’s thriving,” Y/N laughed, walking over.

“She’s got your attitude,” Bob teased, reaching over to scoop up their daughter. “Fearless. Like her mom.”

From the couch, Bucky lifted an eyebrow. “You sure about that? She cried when I said no more banana puffs.”

“That was betrayal, Barnes,” Yelena called, entering the room with Ava in tow, both holding iced coffees. “She trusted you.”

“She trusted you,” Ava repeated, mimicking a tearful toddler’s voice.

“She’s one,” John interjected, sipping a protein shake with a smirk. “She can’t even say betrayal yet.”

“Not yet,” Alexei added proudly, lifting Laoise into the air when Bob handed her over. “But she’ll know Russian before betrayal. Yes, little cabbage? Say ‘Dedushka!’”

“She’s not calling you grandpa, Alexei,” Y/N laughed, taking a seat beside Bob, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Come on, just a little practice,” Alexei insisted, cradling Laoise as she babbled nonsense and drooled on his shoulder. “See? That was definitely ‘Alexei.’”

“That was definitely spit,” Bucky said dryly.

“Okay, let’s give her another go,” Bob said, leaning forward and gently taking Laoise back. He kissed her forehead and placed her on her feet again, his hands hovering just behind her. “You can do it, sweetpea. Just like earlier. Come to Daddy.”

Laoise teetered, her tiny legs wobbling. The room went silent except for Bob’s calm encouragement and the baby’s little grunts of effort. One step. A second. Then she launched herself forward into Bob’s arms with a triumphant “Da-da!”

“Did you see that?! Did you see that?!” Bob lifted her up and spun her in a gentle circle. “You did it, Lo! You walked! You came to Daddy!”

Laoise squealed with delight, her laughter echoing in the room as the entire team clapped and cheered. Yelena recorded the whole thing on her phone, whispering to Ava, “This is going to be the best blackmail material when she’s fifteen.”

“I’ll start the photo album,” Ava grinned.

“She’s got good form,” John nodded approvingly.

Y/N leaned over and kissed Bob on the cheek. “She really loves you, you know.”

Bob chuckled, still holding Laoise close. “She’s my whole heart. You both are.”

As Laoise babbled happily in his arms, her head resting against his chest, the room full of superheroes faded into background noise. For a moment, it wasn’t about powers or missions or saving the world.

It was just about a baby girl, her first steps, and the people who would walk beside her every step of the way.

And probably teach her how to say betrayal, Alexei, and banana puffs before anything else.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

PLEASEE, BUCKY CONFESSING HIS PAST TO READER AFTER DISTANCING HIMSELF SO BAD HE ALMOST LOST HER!!!!!!!!!

it can be fem or gender neutral, doesnt matter to me, whatever you feel like writing!

please and thank you, enjoy your free time 🫶🏻

thank you, thank you!!! i hope you like it!!!

here

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Stillness

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

requested? yes

el's thoughts: i didn't proofread this... hope yall like it!!

bucky masterlist

The knock came just past nine. 

Y/N hadn’t expected it, despite hoping for it for two weeks. Two weeks of second-guessing every moment. Every word. Every smile he’d given her before he disappeared.

She opened the door slowly, half-expecting someone else. Maybe her neighbor. Maybe no one, and the sound was simply a fragment of her heart’s desire.

But it was him.

Bucky.

Standing in the hallway like he was bracing for impact. Hands shoved deep inhis coat pockets, shoulder tense beneath the worn fabric, eyes cast down until he heard her breath catch.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She didn’t move. Just blinked at him, heart somewhere between relief and hurt.

“Hi.”

“Can I… come in?”

She stepped back without a word, letting him in because she couldn’t make real sense of anything yet, only that he was here, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

The door clicked closed behind him. He didn’t sit, just stood in the middle of her small apartment like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Like maybe he’d bolt if she looked at him the wrong way.

Y/N stayed by the door. 

“You’ve been gone,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know if you were okay.”

“I know.” His eyes finally met hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Did I… did I do something?” she asked, and his face twisted like the words physically hurt him.

“No. God, no. You didn’t do anything.”

Her lips parted, confused and aching. “Then why?”

He swallowed hard, jaw clenching.

“I got scared.”

“Of me?”

He almost smiled, but ut dudn’t reach his eyes. “No. Of… of this. Of what you make me feel. Of what I’d bring into your life if I let myself really stay.”

Y/N didn’t speak. She waited. Soft and patient like always.

Bucky’s hand trembled at his sides. 

“I used to be someone else,” he said, voice gravelly. “Not just the guy you’ve had coffee with. Or the one who walks you home and carries your bags and forgets how to flirt because he gets awkward around you.”

She let herself take a step closer. 

“I was used,” he continued. “By people who didn’t care who I was, only what I could do. And I did things, Y/N. Bad things. Things I can’t even say out loud without feeling like I’ll break something in myself.”

Another step.

“I didn’t have a choice, “ he said. “But I still remember every scream. Every mission. Every life I ended. I was a weapon. I wasn’t me. And now I’m trying to be. I really try.”

Y/N stood in front of him now.

“And for the first time in a long time, I found something that feels good. That feels normal. You. You make me laugh. You make me want to… sit still. You talk about your day like I’m someone worth telling it to. Like I’m not a monster.”

“You’re not,” she said softly.

“I was.” He looked away. “And part of me still thinks I am.”

Silence. Gentle. Heavy. He braced for her to step back. To shut down. To ask him to leave.

But instead, she reached for his hand.

Her fingers curled around his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He stared at it like it didn’t make sense. 

“You didn’t have a choice,” she said. “That wasn’t you.”

“I still did it.”

“But you got help. You changed. You’re trying. That means everything.”

He shook his head, voice breaking. “You’re too good to be standing here listening to this.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, “but I want to be.”

He blinked. His breath hitched. No one had ever said that to him. No one had ever wanted to stay without strings or pity.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he said. “I thought I could keep that part of me away from you. Keep you clean.”

Her hand squeezed his. “You don’t have to protect me from who you were. I just want to know who you are.”

Bucky closed his eyes. 

And for the first time in days, his shoulders eased, just slightly. Just enough.

“I’m still learning how to be someone worth loving.”

Y/N’s voice was quiet. Steady. “Then let me love you while you learn.”

And just like that, in her tiny apartment lit by a warm lamp, Bucky Barnes let someone hold the part of him he was most afraid to show.

And she didn’t flinch.

Not once.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

im free allll day and i wanna write, so send requests if u have someee

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

omg i love this🫶

Man Behind the Myth

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: neutral

requested? yes by @f1padfoot

el's thoughts: i really like this oneee hehe i hope yall like it!

Steve Rogers had talked to her after they found him washed up on shore, he had asked her to find Bucky. Steve said that he would’ve searched himself but he was tied up with Avengers stuff. Was she confused about his personal priorities… Yes. But who was she to question Captian America?

She finally arrived at the slightly rundown apartment building with broken shutters and water stains on the plaster walls. She half expected a fortress, booby traps, maybe a sniper scope on her the second she stepped onto the street. What she found instead was… silence. Before her arrival, all she had were a single set of coordinates. Y/N adjusted her grip on the sidearm tucked against her hip, her boots echoed on the steps up the stairwell. 

She had been tracking him for weeks—not just a trail of movement, but a man built from whispers. 

She didn’t lower her weapon as she approached the door, her breath shallow. The wood creaked under her weight. Slowly, she pushed the door open.

Inside, it looked more like a place someone lived than hid. Well-worn blankets were neatly folded on an old couch. Books stacked haphazardly in the corner. A bowl of stew on the table—still warm. He was close.

Then she heard it.

A low click behind her. 

Her blood ran cold.

“Drop it.” His voice was rough, low, like gravel grinding under boots.

Y/N froze. She felt the barrel of a gun at the back of her head. He’d gotten the jump on her. She had been tracked.

“Do it,” he growled again.

Slowly, she bent at the knees, placing her weapon on the floor. Hands raised, she straightened. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“That’s funny,” James Barnes muttered, stepping into her peripheral vision, the muzzle still trained on her. “Isn’t that exactly what they sent you to do?”

She turned her head slightly, studying him.

He looked different than the files. More human. Tired. His stubble was uneven, like he hadn’t cared enough to shave properly. His eyes were haunted, yet sharp and calculating. Not the ghost of the Winter Soldier. Not the myth. Just a man trying to remember how to breathe. 

“I know what they told me,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t sent to kill you.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“Because I was sent to bring you back.”

“To who? Where?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.”

He froze. “No.”

Y/N was struck with such a strong sense of confusion, she tilted her head. “Why?”

James still didn’t lower his gun and his cold stare didn’t rest up. “He doesn’t know me.”

She watched him for a moment. He clearly wasn’t the James “Bucky” Barnes that Steve described to her from his childhood. 

“He was the kind of guy who walked into a room like he owned it — all charm, a cocky grin, and a wink that had every dame in Brooklyn falling over themselves. Tall, broad-shouldered, hair slicked just enough to pass for clean-cut but wild enough to give his mother grief. But it wasn’t the looks that stuck with you — it was the way he made you feel like you belonged.

He could throw a punch, sure — and take one just as well — but what made Bucky different was that he always looked out for the little guy. Even before I had the serum, he never let anyone talk down to me. Said I might be small, but I was scrappy, and that counted for something. He had this big laugh, this easy confidence, like nothing in the world could touch him.

Underneath all that bravado, though? He had a good heart. Real good. Loyal to a fault. Brave as hell. The kind of guy who’d walk into fire if it meant getting someone else out.

He was my best friend. Still is, in a way. Even when the world moved on — I never really did.”

James picked up on the fact that she wasn’t making a move. She didn’t scan the room for a possible way out or new plan. She just looked at him. 

“You’re not taking me in?” He asked hesitantly. “Why?”

“Y/N shrugged gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because I see someone who’s running, not hunting.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, he lowered the gun.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He studied her again—this time, not like a threat, but a puzzle. Something he couldn’t quite figure out. “You’re not scared of me?”

Y/N turned to face him fully now, meeting his gaze head-on. “No.”

He blinked, as if the answer stunned him more than any bullet ever could. “...Shouldn’t you be?”

She tilted her head. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“Then I guess not.”

Something in his jaw flexed. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

“You saw the files,” he said almost like a challenge. “You know what I’ve done.”

“I read the orders. I read between the lines. I also know what they did to you.”

He laughed dryly, shaking his head, his hand tightened around the gun. “That’s not how this works. You don’t just show up, hear a sob story, and decide I’m the victim.”

“Maybe not,” she said, stepping forward slowly, carefully. “But I know what monsters look like. You’re not one of them.”

His expression faltered — just for a second. Something cracked. Something softened.

“Why are you really here?” he asked.

“I was sent to find you.” Her voice didn’t waver, determination was evident.

His eyes searched hers, like he was still waiting for a trick. A trap. Some cruel twist that would make this make sense.

When it didn’t come, he stepped back, exhaling sharply.

“…I made soup,” he muttered harshly. “If you aren’t going to leave, you might as well eat.”

Y/N blinked. Then — the corner of her mouth twitched up.

“I could eat.”

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

thank youuuu🥰🥰

Man Behind the Myth

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: neutral

requested? yes by @f1padfoot

el's thoughts: i really like this oneee hehe i hope yall like it!

Steve Rogers had talked to her after they found him washed up on shore, he had asked her to find Bucky. Steve said that he would’ve searched himself but he was tied up with Avengers stuff. Was she confused about his personal priorities… Yes. But who was she to question Captian America?

She finally arrived at the slightly rundown apartment building with broken shutters and water stains on the plaster walls. She half expected a fortress, booby traps, maybe a sniper scope on her the second she stepped onto the street. What she found instead was… silence. Before her arrival, all she had were a single set of coordinates. Y/N adjusted her grip on the sidearm tucked against her hip, her boots echoed on the steps up the stairwell. 

She had been tracking him for weeks—not just a trail of movement, but a man built from whispers. 

She didn’t lower her weapon as she approached the door, her breath shallow. The wood creaked under her weight. Slowly, she pushed the door open.

Inside, it looked more like a place someone lived than hid. Well-worn blankets were neatly folded on an old couch. Books stacked haphazardly in the corner. A bowl of stew on the table—still warm. He was close.

Then she heard it.

A low click behind her. 

Her blood ran cold.

“Drop it.” His voice was rough, low, like gravel grinding under boots.

Y/N froze. She felt the barrel of a gun at the back of her head. He’d gotten the jump on her. She had been tracked.

“Do it,” he growled again.

Slowly, she bent at the knees, placing her weapon on the floor. Hands raised, she straightened. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“That’s funny,” James Barnes muttered, stepping into her peripheral vision, the muzzle still trained on her. “Isn’t that exactly what they sent you to do?”

She turned her head slightly, studying him.

He looked different than the files. More human. Tired. His stubble was uneven, like he hadn’t cared enough to shave properly. His eyes were haunted, yet sharp and calculating. Not the ghost of the Winter Soldier. Not the myth. Just a man trying to remember how to breathe. 

“I know what they told me,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t sent to kill you.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“Because I was sent to bring you back.”

“To who? Where?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.”

He froze. “No.”

Y/N was struck with such a strong sense of confusion, she tilted her head. “Why?”

James still didn’t lower his gun and his cold stare didn’t rest up. “He doesn’t know me.”

She watched him for a moment. He clearly wasn’t the James “Bucky” Barnes that Steve described to her from his childhood. 

“He was the kind of guy who walked into a room like he owned it — all charm, a cocky grin, and a wink that had every dame in Brooklyn falling over themselves. Tall, broad-shouldered, hair slicked just enough to pass for clean-cut but wild enough to give his mother grief. But it wasn’t the looks that stuck with you — it was the way he made you feel like you belonged.

He could throw a punch, sure — and take one just as well — but what made Bucky different was that he always looked out for the little guy. Even before I had the serum, he never let anyone talk down to me. Said I might be small, but I was scrappy, and that counted for something. He had this big laugh, this easy confidence, like nothing in the world could touch him.

Underneath all that bravado, though? He had a good heart. Real good. Loyal to a fault. Brave as hell. The kind of guy who’d walk into fire if it meant getting someone else out.

He was my best friend. Still is, in a way. Even when the world moved on — I never really did.”

James picked up on the fact that she wasn’t making a move. She didn’t scan the room for a possible way out or new plan. She just looked at him. 

“You’re not taking me in?” He asked hesitantly. “Why?”

“Y/N shrugged gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because I see someone who’s running, not hunting.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, he lowered the gun.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He studied her again—this time, not like a threat, but a puzzle. Something he couldn’t quite figure out. “You’re not scared of me?”

Y/N turned to face him fully now, meeting his gaze head-on. “No.”

He blinked, as if the answer stunned him more than any bullet ever could. “...Shouldn’t you be?”

She tilted her head. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“Then I guess not.”

Something in his jaw flexed. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

“You saw the files,” he said almost like a challenge. “You know what I’ve done.”

“I read the orders. I read between the lines. I also know what they did to you.”

He laughed dryly, shaking his head, his hand tightened around the gun. “That’s not how this works. You don’t just show up, hear a sob story, and decide I’m the victim.”

“Maybe not,” she said, stepping forward slowly, carefully. “But I know what monsters look like. You’re not one of them.”

His expression faltered — just for a second. Something cracked. Something softened.

“Why are you really here?” he asked.

“I was sent to find you.” Her voice didn’t waver, determination was evident.

His eyes searched hers, like he was still waiting for a trick. A trap. Some cruel twist that would make this make sense.

When it didn’t come, he stepped back, exhaling sharply.

“…I made soup,” he muttered harshly. “If you aren’t going to leave, you might as well eat.”

Y/N blinked. Then — the corner of her mouth twitched up.

“I could eat.”

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

"You’re not scared of me?" “No. Should I be?”

this but with bucky barnes 😌 ive been thinking about this for like a week now and i cannot get this out of my head - definitely pre-thunderbolts and before "i have a great past im totally fine" 😭😭😭

i loved the bob story you wrote for my request - i keep rereading it 🤩

omg i literally love you! please keep requesting🫶

here

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Man Behind the Myth

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: neutral

requested? yes by @f1padfoot

el's thoughts: i really like this oneee hehe i hope yall like it!

bucky masterlist

Steve Rogers had talked to her after they found him washed up on shore, he had asked her to find Bucky. Steve said that he would’ve searched himself but he was tied up with Avengers stuff. Was she confused about his personal priorities… Yes. But who was she to question Captian America?

She finally arrived at the slightly rundown apartment building with broken shutters and water stains on the plaster walls. She half expected a fortress, booby traps, maybe a sniper scope on her the second she stepped onto the street. What she found instead was… silence. Before her arrival, all she had were a single set of coordinates. Y/N adjusted her grip on the sidearm tucked against her hip, her boots echoed on the steps up the stairwell. 

She had been tracking him for weeks—not just a trail of movement, but a man built from whispers. 

She didn’t lower her weapon as she approached the door, her breath shallow. The wood creaked under her weight. Slowly, she pushed the door open.

Inside, it looked more like a place someone lived than hid. Well-worn blankets were neatly folded on an old couch. Books stacked haphazardly in the corner. A bowl of stew on the table—still warm. He was close.

Then she heard it.

A low click behind her. 

Her blood ran cold.

“Drop it.” His voice was rough, low, like gravel grinding under boots.

Y/N froze. She felt the barrel of a gun at the back of her head. He’d gotten the jump on her. She had been tracked.

“Do it,” he growled again.

Slowly, she bent at the knees, placing her weapon on the floor. Hands raised, she straightened. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“That’s funny,” James Barnes muttered, stepping into her peripheral vision, the muzzle still trained on her. “Isn’t that exactly what they sent you to do?”

She turned her head slightly, studying him.

He looked different than the files. More human. Tired. His stubble was uneven, like he hadn’t cared enough to shave properly. His eyes were haunted, yet sharp and calculating. Not the ghost of the Winter Soldier. Not the myth. Just a man trying to remember how to breathe. 

“I know what they told me,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t sent to kill you.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“Because I was sent to bring you back.”

“To who? Where?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.”

He froze. “No.”

Y/N was struck with such a strong sense of confusion, she tilted her head. “Why?”

James still didn’t lower his gun and his cold stare didn’t rest up. “He doesn’t know me.”

She watched him for a moment. He clearly wasn’t the James “Bucky” Barnes that Steve described to her from his childhood. 

“He was the kind of guy who walked into a room like he owned it — all charm, a cocky grin, and a wink that had every dame in Brooklyn falling over themselves. Tall, broad-shouldered, hair slicked just enough to pass for clean-cut but wild enough to give his mother grief. But it wasn’t the looks that stuck with you — it was the way he made you feel like you belonged.

He could throw a punch, sure — and take one just as well — but what made Bucky different was that he always looked out for the little guy. Even before I had the serum, he never let anyone talk down to me. Said I might be small, but I was scrappy, and that counted for something. He had this big laugh, this easy confidence, like nothing in the world could touch him.

Underneath all that bravado, though? He had a good heart. Real good. Loyal to a fault. Brave as hell. The kind of guy who’d walk into fire if it meant getting someone else out.

He was my best friend. Still is, in a way. Even when the world moved on — I never really did.”

James picked up on the fact that she wasn’t making a move. She didn’t scan the room for a possible way out or new plan. She just looked at him. 

“You’re not taking me in?” He asked hesitantly. “Why?”

“Y/N shrugged gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because I see someone who’s running, not hunting.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, he lowered the gun.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He studied her again—this time, not like a threat, but a puzzle. Something he couldn’t quite figure out. “You’re not scared of me?”

Y/N turned to face him fully now, meeting his gaze head-on. “No.”

He blinked, as if the answer stunned him more than any bullet ever could. “...Shouldn’t you be?”

She tilted her head. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“Then I guess not.”

Something in his jaw flexed. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

“You saw the files,” he said almost like a challenge. “You know what I’ve done.”

“I read the orders. I read between the lines. I also know what they did to you.”

He laughed dryly, shaking his head, his hand tightened around the gun. “That’s not how this works. You don’t just show up, hear a sob story, and decide I’m the victim.”

“Maybe not,” she said, stepping forward slowly, carefully. “But I know what monsters look like. You’re not one of them.”

His expression faltered — just for a second. Something cracked. Something softened.

“Why are you really here?” he asked.

“I was sent to find you.” Her voice didn’t waver, determination was evident.

His eyes searched hers, like he was still waiting for a trick. A trap. Some cruel twist that would make this make sense.

When it didn’t come, he stepped back, exhaling sharply.

“…I made soup,” he muttered harshly. “If you aren’t going to leave, you might as well eat.”

Y/N blinked. Then — the corner of her mouth twitched up.

“I could eat.”

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Heir and the Prankster

pairing: george weasley x male!reader

requested? yes @hpxmcusworld

el's thoughts: i usually don't write male reader... so i hope i did it justice. enjoy!!

Everyone in the wizarding world knew Regulus Black had a son.

And everyone in the wizarding world had no idea what he looked like.

Rumors varied—some said he had silver eyes like a stormy sky, others said he wore an enchanted mask and moved through shadows like his father once did. Some insisted he didn’t exist at all, just a myth woven into the complicated legacy of the Black family.

But none of them expected the son of Regulus Black to be… well, this.

He arrived at Hogwarts in a perfectly tailored uniform—definitely not school-issue—with sharp features, sharp posture, and an even sharper tongue.

Sorted into Slytherin within four seconds.

“Black, Y/N,” Professor McGonagall had called.

And George Weasley hadn’t looked up—at first. Not until he heard the collective hush that fell over the Great Hall when the name echoed.

Black.

He turned. And promptly choked on his pumpkin juice.

Y/N Black looked like he had stepped out of a painting—cool and unreadable, like his name was heavy and he knew it. He wasn’t trying to impress. He wasn’t trying at all. And that somehow made it worse.

~

Y/N was used to being the smartest in the room. Durmstrang didn’t coddle. If you weren’t bleeding or on fire, you were still expected to duel.

Which made Hogwarts… a little too easy.

“This is the fourth time I’ve corrected Snape,” Y/N muttered one afternoon in the courtyard, flopping down beside George on the bench.

“You corrected Snape?” George blinked.

“He was teaching wandless shielding like it’s some advanced theory—George, we learned that in third year.” Y/N dragged a hand down his face, visibly bored. “I could teach this class in my sleep.”

George chuckled, “Well, la-di-da, Durmstrang royalty. I’m sorry Hogwarts isn’t up to your high standards.”

Y/N gave him a long look. “It’s not just the classes. Your secret passageways are pitiful. And the Slytherins here—bless them—haven’t realized I’m five steps ahead of them already.”

George grinned. “Is that why you keep ending up near the Gryffindor table? Looking for intelligent life?”

“Please. I’m here because you’re interesting,” Y/N said smoothly.

George blinked again. “Oh.”

Y/N just smirked, stood, and walked away with his hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t just made George’s brain short-circuit for the next five minutes.

~

It started slowly—Y/N would hang around the twins in between classes. He and Fred would trade jabs, but Y/N always sat beside George. Always looked at him when he said something sarcastic. Always walked just a little slower when George wasn’t keeping up.

“You’re following me,” Y/N commented once, flicking a look over his shoulder as they exited Charms.

“I’m escorting you,” George said proudly. “It’s called being a gentleman.”

“I can apparate halfway across a battlefield and speak four languages, George. I don’t need a chaperone.”

“You absolutely need one,” George said. “You get this look when you’re about to verbally disembowel someone.”

Y/N arched a brow. “And you enjoy that?”

“I live for it,” George grinned.

~

When it finally happened, it wasn’t dramatic.

They were alone in the Astronomy Tower one night, George rambling about some failed prank that exploded in Flitwick’s robes, and Y/N just turned his head and said:

“I like you, you know.”

George froze mid-sentence. “You—what?”

Y/N shrugged. “I figured I’d just say it. I don’t like playing games.”

George blinked. “You’re the heir to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, and you don’t like playing games?”

“I said I don’t like emotional games,” Y/N corrected, smirking. “Political ones? Those I win for sport.”

George burst out laughing and tackled him in a hug. “Bloody hell, I’m dating Regulus Black’s kid.”

“What?” Y/N asked, blinking.

George froze. “Nothing!”

Y/N narrowed his eyes. “George.”

“…Wait. Wait, you didn’t know I knew?”

“I didn’t think you did know,” Y/N said. “You never brought it up.”

“Because you never told me!” George spluttered. “You just said your name was Y/N. I didn’t connect you to that Black.”

Y/N leaned back on his elbows. “Did it change anything?”

George blinked at him. “Not even a little. Still think you’re an insufferable little know-it-all with stupidly pretty hair.”

“…You think my hair’s pretty?”

“I think I want to marry you,” George said before he could stop himself.

Y/N stared at him, startled.

Then: “Okay.”

“…Okay?”

“Yeah. Just wait a few months,” Y/N said, standing. “Once I take over the House of Black, I’ll be absurdly rich. Might as well have someone to annoy in my enormous castle.”

George just blinked again, then chased after him down the corridor like an actual golden retriever.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

gonna post them both in the next few mins!!!

i have two fic ready in my draftssss