yourhiddenwriter

[yourhiddenwriter]

Sebastian Stan filmography

[yourhiddenwriter]

500 LIEKSZ?!!!???!?

OMGG

I want to start taking requests so please feel free to leave some!!! 💛

[yourhiddenwriter]

Glad u enjoyed it !!

Delay

Bucky barnesxreader

… The rain came out of nowhere, fat droplets smacking against the quinjet's windshield as the engines powered down. The mission had gone sideways, as usual. Hydra always had a way of making things messy. But you were safe. Banged up, bruised, and tired, but safe.

You glanced across the cabin. Bucky sat on the edge of one of the benches, stripping off his gloves. His vibranium fingers flexed once, then again. You’d seen that same motion after a dozen different missions, but today, something about the way he looked at them made your heart tighten.

"You're doing the thing again," you said quietly.

He looked up. “What thing?”

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat. “Staring at your hand like it’s a weapon instead of a part of you.”

Bucky gave a short breath of a laugh. It was more of an exhale than anything. “That’s because it is a weapon.”

“And your heart isn’t?” you asked. “Because you’ve saved more people with that than you’ve ever hurt with your hand.”

That made him pause.

Thunder cracked outside, deep and rattling. The cabin dimmed slightly as clouds choked the sun, and the hum of the rain on the quinjet roof grew louder. No one else was around. Just the two of you, waiting out the storm before flying back.

Bucky stood and slowly crossed the space between you. He sat beside you, not close, but closer than usual. You felt the tension in him, the restlessness under his skin.

“I hate this part,” he admitted.

“What part?”

He looked sideways at you. “The quiet. After everything’s done, but before anything’s better.”

You didn’t speak. Just reached out and rested your hand on top of his metal one. It was cool to the touch, smooth, but steady. He didn’t flinch. Instead, his fingers curled under yours.

“This part’s my favorite,” you whispered.

Bucky blinked.

“Because it’s when I know you’re alive,” you added. “When I know you’re here. And when you finally stop looking at yourself like you’re still someone else’s ghost.”

His throat bobbed with emotion. His eyes didn’t move from yours.

“You’re dangerous,” he said after a moment, voice low.

You smiled faintly. “Why?”

“Because you make me want things. Things I don’t think I deserve.”

You didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you leaned closer. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, Barnes. Rain or shine.”

He didn’t kiss you, not yet, but his forehead touched yours, and it felt like a promise.

Outside, the storm softened into a hush.

[yourhiddenwriter]

Delay

Bucky barnesxreader

… The rain came out of nowhere, fat droplets smacking against the quinjet's windshield as the engines powered down. The mission had gone sideways, as usual. Hydra always had a way of making things messy. But you were safe. Banged up, bruised, and tired, but safe.

You glanced across the cabin. Bucky sat on the edge of one of the benches, stripping off his gloves. His vibranium fingers flexed once, then again. You’d seen that same motion after a dozen different missions, but today, something about the way he looked at them made your heart tighten.

"You're doing the thing again," you said quietly.

He looked up. “What thing?”

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat. “Staring at your hand like it’s a weapon instead of a part of you.”

Bucky gave a short breath of a laugh. It was more of an exhale than anything. “That’s because it is a weapon.”

“And your heart isn’t?” you asked. “Because you’ve saved more people with that than you’ve ever hurt with your hand.”

That made him pause.

Thunder cracked outside, deep and rattling. The cabin dimmed slightly as clouds choked the sun, and the hum of the rain on the quinjet roof grew louder. No one else was around. Just the two of you, waiting out the storm before flying back.

Bucky stood and slowly crossed the space between you. He sat beside you, not close, but closer than usual. You felt the tension in him, the restlessness under his skin.

“I hate this part,” he admitted.

“What part?”

He looked sideways at you. “The quiet. After everything’s done, but before anything’s better.”

You didn’t speak. Just reached out and rested your hand on top of his metal one. It was cool to the touch, smooth, but steady. He didn’t flinch. Instead, his fingers curled under yours.

“This part’s my favorite,” you whispered.

Bucky blinked.

“Because it’s when I know you’re alive,” you added. “When I know you’re here. And when you finally stop looking at yourself like you’re still someone else’s ghost.”

His throat bobbed with emotion. His eyes didn’t move from yours.

“You’re dangerous,” he said after a moment, voice low.

You smiled faintly. “Why?”

“Because you make me want things. Things I don’t think I deserve.”

You didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you leaned closer. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, Barnes. Rain or shine.”

He didn’t kiss you, not yet, but his forehead touched yours, and it felt like a promise.

Outside, the storm softened into a hush.

[yourhiddenwriter]

"At Last" pt. ii

just a continuation of the last fic I wrote :)

...

The music had faded, replaced by the dull hum of conversation and clinking glasses.

You hadn’t said a word when Bucky took your hand again, quietly and gently, and led you through a side door marked PRIVATE in that Stark Tower way that really meant go ahead if you're important enough.

The noise of the ballroom melted away the second the door shut behind you.

You stepped out onto a wide high-rise balcony that overlooked the city. The lights below flickered like stars, and a breeze danced across your skin, tugging at the edge of your dress.

Bucky didn’t speak right away. He just leaned against the railing, staring out like he was trying to memorize it all.

You came up beside him. “Too much?”

He exhaled through his nose. “Always is.”

A beat passed.

“But not with you.”

You looked over at him. His shoulders were still tense, hands gripping the railing like he needed the grounding. Even after all this time, he still felt like he was bracing for something.

“You did good in there,” you said softly.

“I didn’t punch anyone,” he smirked. “So yeah, I’m chalking it up as a win.”

You nudged him with your shoulder. “And you danced.”

He looked at you then, really looked, like the city didn’t exist and the only thing worth remembering tonight was the way you’d smiled at him under chandeliers.

“I’d do anything if you asked nice enough,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart caught in your throat.

His gaze dropped to your hands. “Y’know, I didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

You waited.

“I thought maybe I'd get my head straight enough to breathe, maybe join the team, fake it for a while. But someone like me, with my past... I never thought I'd get this.” He looked at you again, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. “You. Laughing at something dumb Sam said. Dragging me into dances like I still remember how.”

You stepped closer, your hand finding his chest. His heart was racing.

“I used to think love wasn’t something I was allowed to have,” he continued, barely managing the words. “But you didn’t just give it to me. You made me believe I could give it back.”

Your eyes stung, but you didn’t look away.

“I love you,” he said. Quiet. Raw. Like it hurt and healed him at the same time. “And I’m sorry it took a damn ballroom and three near panic attacks for me to finally say it.”

You didn’t say anything. You kissed him.

You kissed him like he was more than his past, more than his pain. You kissed him like he was already forgiven, already home. And when he kissed you back, it wasn’t soft like on the dance floor. It was full of every word he’d ever bitten back and every future he thought he couldn’t have.

When you finally pulled away, he was breathing hard. So were you.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “Always have.”

Bucky closed his eyes like the words physically reached inside him and stitched something back together.

Then he laughed, just a little. “I think I forgot how cold it gets this high up.”

You smiled. “We should go inside.”

“In a minute,” he said, pulling you back into his arms. “Let me have this a little longer.”

And so you stood there, pressed against him, the sounds of the city below and the faint beat of a party behind you. Two people a little out of place, but perfectly in step with each other.

[yourhiddenwriter]

💛

"At Last"

Summary: Bucky hates parties. But he goes to this one for you. And somewhere between the glittering chandeliers and a slow dance beneath the stars, he starts to think maybe it’s not so bad after all.

( I would recommend listening to "At Last"- Etta James as you read!)

enjoy!

~~~~~~~

There are too many people. Too many suits. Too many shallow conversations. Too many goddamn shrimp cocktails.

Bucky adjusts the stiff collar of his jacket for the tenth time and glares at the champagne glass in his hand like it personally insulted him.

He doesn’t do well with crowds, even now. Not when everyone looks at him like a historical artifact—like they know the headlines but not the man. And not when he knows what his hands have done.

He’s about two minutes from slipping out through the back door when he sees you.

And suddenly the music isn’t so loud anymore.

You’re standing across the ballroom in a navy dress that catches the light when you move, like it was stitched from the sky just for tonight. Laughing at something Sam said, drink in hand, eyes shining.

Bucky forgets how to breathe for a second.

Because you’re not just beautiful. You’re his. Or at least, you’ve been trying to be; if only he could get out of his own way long enough to let you.

You spot him and smile. Not just a polite party smile—your smile. The one you give him when he can’t sleep. When he lets you see the parts of him he usually hides.

You cross the floor toward him, weaving through Tony’s VIPs like you’ve done it a hundred times. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” you say, bumping your shoulder into his.

“That obvious?”

You reach up to fix the tie he didn’t quite manage to straighten. “Only to me.”

He watches you with that quiet gaze that always makes your heart skip. “You look... incredible.”

You raise a brow. “That’s the only nice thing you’re saying tonight, isn’t it?”

He smirks, just a little. “Depends. You planning to drag me into a slow dance in front of all these people?”

You lean in close, like you’re telling a secret. “I was hoping you’d drag me.”

And just like that, you’ve got his hand in yours and are pulling him toward the dance floor. Bucky fumbles the champagne flute onto the nearest tray and follows because how the hell could he not?

The song is soft; classic, like Nat said the DJ would play for the "nostalgia factor." You press a hand to his chest, and he places one on your waist, like it’s second nature.

You sway together, the noise of the party fading around you. For once, no one’s watching him. Or maybe they are. But for the first time, he doesn’t care.

Because you’re looking at him like he’s not broken. Like he’s not a relic or a ghost.

“You clean up nice, Sergeant,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Only for you.”

He presses a kiss to your hair, breathing you in. “Thanks for not letting me hide.”

You smile against his chest. “Thanks for not running.”

And somewhere between the soft strings of the music and the brush of your fingers against his, Bucky thinks he might not mind these damn banquets after all.

As long as you’re there.

~~~~~~~~~ hope you enjoyed!

[yourhiddenwriter]

"At Last"

Summary: Bucky hates parties. But he goes to this one for you. And somewhere between the glittering chandeliers and a slow dance beneath the stars, he starts to think maybe it’s not so bad after all.

( I would recommend listening to "At Last"- Etta James as you read!)

enjoy!

~~~~~~~

There are too many people. Too many suits. Too many shallow conversations. Too many goddamn shrimp cocktails.

Bucky adjusts the stiff collar of his jacket for the tenth time and glares at the champagne glass in his hand like it personally insulted him.

He doesn’t do well with crowds, even now. Not when everyone looks at him like a historical artifact—like they know the headlines but not the man. And not when he knows what his hands have done.

He’s about two minutes from slipping out through the back door when he sees you.

And suddenly the music isn’t so loud anymore.

You’re standing across the ballroom in a navy dress that catches the light when you move, like it was stitched from the sky just for tonight. Laughing at something Sam said, drink in hand, eyes shining.

Bucky forgets how to breathe for a second.

Because you’re not just beautiful. You’re his. Or at least, you’ve been trying to be; if only he could get out of his own way long enough to let you.

You spot him and smile. Not just a polite party smile—your smile. The one you give him when he can’t sleep. When he lets you see the parts of him he usually hides.

You cross the floor toward him, weaving through Tony’s VIPs like you’ve done it a hundred times. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” you say, bumping your shoulder into his.

“That obvious?”

You reach up to fix the tie he didn’t quite manage to straighten. “Only to me.”

He watches you with that quiet gaze that always makes your heart skip. “You look... incredible.”

You raise a brow. “That’s the only nice thing you’re saying tonight, isn’t it?”

He smirks, just a little. “Depends. You planning to drag me into a slow dance in front of all these people?”

You lean in close, like you’re telling a secret. “I was hoping you’d drag me.”

And just like that, you’ve got his hand in yours and are pulling him toward the dance floor. Bucky fumbles the champagne flute onto the nearest tray and follows because how the hell could he not?

The song is soft; classic, like Nat said the DJ would play for the "nostalgia factor." You press a hand to his chest, and he places one on your waist, like it’s second nature.

You sway together, the noise of the party fading around you. For once, no one’s watching him. Or maybe they are. But for the first time, he doesn’t care.

Because you’re looking at him like he’s not broken. Like he’s not a relic or a ghost.

“You clean up nice, Sergeant,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Only for you.”

He presses a kiss to your hair, breathing you in. “Thanks for not letting me hide.”

You smile against his chest. “Thanks for not running.”

And somewhere between the soft strings of the music and the brush of your fingers against his, Bucky thinks he might not mind these damn banquets after all.

As long as you’re there.

~~~~~~~~~ hope you enjoyed!

[yourhiddenwriter]

happy you enjoyed it!!

Mornings Like This

summary: typical morning w Bucky (alpine)

There’s something about mornings in Bucky’s apartment that feel like they belong in another world.

The sun pours in through the windows in gentle gold stripes, casting warmth on the messy bed sheets and the stack of books he still hasn’t finished. The air smells like the faint hint of coffee from the pot you started earlier; and a little like him: warm skin, cedar soap, and something impossibly comforting.

You’re half-draped over Bucky’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, when you feel a soft thump at the edge of the bed.

“Alpine,” Bucky murmurs sleepily, eyes barely open. “Took you long enough.”

You lift your head just as the snowy white kitten hops up and immediately makes herself at home, curling into the space between Bucky’s side and yours like she owns it. Because, in her mind, she absolutely does.

“She sleeps better than we do,” you mutter, reaching out to scratch her behind the ears.

“She rules the apartment. I just live here,” Bucky says, smiling. It’s a small smile: sleep-soft and scruffy and so him it makes your chest ache in the best way.

Alpine purrs loudly, stretching one paw out onto Bucky’s stomach before falling immediately asleep again.

“She loves you more than me,” you tease.

“She tolerates me because I feed her,” he smirks, brushing his fingers gently through your hair. “She adores you. Probably because you let her sleep on the pillow.”

“She’s soft and doesn’t kick me in her sleep,” you reply pointedly.

He lets out a chuckle, low and warm, and wraps his arm around you tighter. “I do not kick.”

“You kicked me last night, Barnes. In the shin.”

“I was dreaming about Hydra agents,” he mutters. “One of them looked like Tony. It was disturbing.”

You laugh, full and unfiltered. Alpine lets out a tiny trill of protest and wiggles deeper into the blanket between you.

The three of you lie there for a while; wrapped in warmth, surrounded by sleepy breathing and soft fur, safe in the quiet bubble of a morning that doesn’t demand anything from you.

Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then the tip of your nose. “We’re not getting up today,” he whispers. “Just so you know.”

You smile against his chest. “Fine by me.”

Alpine purrs louder, like she agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AGGHHHH!!! I love this one. Thank you for the suggestion !! Feel free to leave more!!

[yourhiddenwriter]

Mornings Like This

summary: typical morning w Bucky (alpine)

There’s something about mornings in Bucky’s apartment that feel like they belong in another world.

The sun pours in through the windows in gentle gold stripes, casting warmth on the messy bed sheets and the stack of books he still hasn’t finished. The air smells like the faint hint of coffee from the pot you started earlier; and a little like him: warm skin, cedar soap, and something impossibly comforting.

You’re half-draped over Bucky’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, when you feel a soft thump at the edge of the bed.

“Alpine,” Bucky murmurs sleepily, eyes barely open. “Took you long enough.”

You lift your head just as the snowy white kitten hops up and immediately makes herself at home, curling into the space between Bucky’s side and yours like she owns it. Because, in her mind, she absolutely does.

“She sleeps better than we do,” you mutter, reaching out to scratch her behind the ears.

“She rules the apartment. I just live here,” Bucky says, smiling. It’s a small smile: sleep-soft and scruffy and so him it makes your chest ache in the best way.

Alpine purrs loudly, stretching one paw out onto Bucky’s stomach before falling immediately asleep again.

“She loves you more than me,” you tease.

“She tolerates me because I feed her,” he smirks, brushing his fingers gently through your hair. “She adores you. Probably because you let her sleep on the pillow.”

“She’s soft and doesn’t kick me in her sleep,” you reply pointedly.

He lets out a chuckle, low and warm, and wraps his arm around you tighter. “I do not kick.”

“You kicked me last night, Barnes. In the shin.”

“I was dreaming about Hydra agents,” he mutters. “One of them looked like Tony. It was disturbing.”

You laugh, full and unfiltered. Alpine lets out a tiny trill of protest and wiggles deeper into the blanket between you.

The three of you lie there for a while; wrapped in warmth, surrounded by sleepy breathing and soft fur, safe in the quiet bubble of a morning that doesn’t demand anything from you.

Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then the tip of your nose. “We’re not getting up today,” he whispers. “Just so you know.”

You smile against his chest. “Fine by me.”

Alpine purrs louder, like she agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AGGHHHH!!! I love this one. Thank you for the suggestion !! Feel free to leave more!!

[yourhiddenwriter]

Come Back to You

It’s the summer of 1943, and Bucky Barnes has just received the letter that will send him off to war. Before he leaves, he finds you on the rooftop where everything between you began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brooklyn’s summer air was thick with the scent of rain on hot pavement and the muffled sounds of life drifting up through open windows. Up here, on the rooftop of your apartment building, it all felt far away. The noise, the world, the war—it could wait. For a little while.

You were lying back on an old blanket, hands tucked behind your head, staring at the stars when you heard the creak of the door and footsteps you’d know anywhere.

“You always come up here when you’re thinking,” Bucky said softly, easing down beside you.

“And you always follow,” you smiled, turning your head toward him.

He was quiet for a moment, watching the way the wind moved through your hair. You could see something different in his eyes tonight—pride, maybe. And fear.

You sat up. “You got it, didn’t you?”

He didn’t have to say it. You saw the envelope in his hands.

“I leave in a week,” he said. His voice was steady, but his hands were shaking.

You reached for him. “Bucky…”

“I thought I’d feel different,” he murmured. “I thought I’d feel braver. Like a man.” He gave a dry laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “But all I feel is... I don’t know. Like I’m leaving something behind I’m not ready to lose.”

“You’re not losing me,” you said, fierce and certain.

He looked at you then—really looked at you. Like he was memorizing you in this moment: the freckles on your nose, the way your lip curled just slightly when you were trying not to cry.

He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb along your skin. “I don’t want to forget the way you say my name. Or how you smile at me like I’m worth something.”

“You are worth everything.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Promise me you’ll wait.”

“I’d wait forever if it meant you’d come back to me.”

Bucky’s mouth met yours in a kiss that was all warmth and desperation, like he was pouring every word he couldn’t say straight into your soul. When he pulled away, his voice was hoarse.

“I swear to you, doll. I’ll come back. I’ll come back to this rooftop, to that smile, to you. No matter what.”

You rested your head on his shoulder as the stars blinked above you.

“I’ll hold you to it, Sergeant Barnes.”

And in the hush of the night, with the world about to change forever, you stayed like that. Wrapped up in a promise and a love strong enough to cross oceans and battlefields.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

hopefully you all enjoyed reading!! Should I do requests?

[yourhiddenwriter]

where silence lives

bucky barnes x reader

You don’t recognize him anymore.

Not in the way he avoids your gaze, not in the clipped words he offers like scraps from a table that used to overflow with laughter and long talks at midnight.

Not in the way his touch—once tender and hesitant, yet so full of warmth—is now missing altogether.

The Bucky you fell in love with would hold your hand during thunderstorms. This one disappears for hours without a word.

And you wait. God, you wait like hope is a habit and heartbreak is just a symptom.

“Bucky,” you say softly one night, your voice trembling as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom you no longer share, “you’re shutting me out again.”

He doesn’t look at you. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, back to you, fingers clenched so tight his knuckles go white. You can see the faint tremble in his metal hand.

“You don’t get it,” he mutters.

“Then make me understand.”

Silence.

“Damn it, Buck,” your voice cracks. “I’m trying. I see the nightmares, the bruises you don’t explain, the way you flinch when I touch you too suddenly. I know you’re hurting. But pushing me away won’t save you from yourself.”

He turns then, and it’s like looking into a storm—those piercing blue eyes glassy with guilt and rage and something else: fear.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers. “You keep loving a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.”

You walk to him, kneel in front of him. “You don’t get to decide what I see in you.”

He looks down at you, jaw clenched. “You’ll leave. One day, you’ll wake up and realize I’m still that weapon. That I’ll never be enough. And it’ll destroy me.”

You reach for his hand—flesh and blood this time—and he lets you.

“Then let me destroy you with love instead.”

He closes his eyes, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, his breath stutters like he might actually cry. You feel his fingers curl around yours slowly, hesitantly.

~~~~~~~~~

I have quite a few fanfics in the vault that I think i'm just going to put on here (this is one of them!)

[yourhiddenwriter]

I’ve always liked quiet people: You never know if they’re dancing in a daydream or if they’re carrying the weight of the world.

— John Green, Looking for Alaska

[yourhiddenwriter]

how do i get close to you

You can’t

[yourhiddenwriter]

[yourhiddenwriter]

[yourhiddenwriter]

[yourhiddenwriter]

♡ always in pink ♡