ilovolderman

[ilovolderman]

Stealth Raccoons

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: During a chaotic mission, Sam’s on high alert and Natasha’s low-key helping you and Bucky keep your secret relationship under wraps.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

The mission was going fine. Until it wasn’t.

“Everyone stay in comms range,” Sam had said. “No hero moves,” Sam had said. “Stick to the plan,” SAM HAD SAID.

But now there were fire alarms blaring, half the base was flooding for reasons that were absolutely not in the briefing, and somehow you and Bucky were trapped in a side corridor while Sam and Nat were three levels up and getting increasingly annoyed.

Sam’s voice crackled over comms. “What do you mean you’re stuck in a broom closet?”

“It’s not a closet,” Bucky said tightly, scanning the door panel. “It’s a supply room. Very tactical. Very... moppy.”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. “Tactical mop. For stealth cleaning.”

“You’re both impossible,” Sam muttered. “Can you at least not flirt during a breach?”

“We’re not flirting,” you said, far too quickly. “We don’t flirt,” Bucky added.

A pause.

Natasha’s voice cut in, bone dry. “That’s funny. You were making heart eyes while dodging tripwires like it was a romantic tango.”

You smacked your forehead on the wall. Bucky visibly stopped breathing.

Sam cut back in. “Wait—heart what? What do you mean tango? Are you saying there was—?”

Suddenly Bucky kicked the door panel.

It sparked. The lights flickered. A loud clunk sounded.

The door opened.

Bucky turned to you, nodding very seriously. “Tactical success.”

You gave him a look. “You just panicked and kicked the wall.”

He gave you a little grin. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Natasha hummed over comms. “You two gonna keep making goo-goo eyes or are you gonna join the rest of us before Sam has a stroke?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said through clenched teeth. “I’m just saying. They’re suspiciously in sync lately. You saw them backflip in unison last mission.”

You and Bucky exchanged a quick look.

You had, in fact, practiced that move. In private. After several accidental crashes and at least one rug burn incident that required aloe.

Bucky cleared his throat. “We’re just good at teamwork.”

Sam scoffed. “You were holding hands.”

“We were anchoring each other.” “That's a combat grip,” you added helpfully.

There was a pause.

“Combat grip?” Sam repeated flatly. “I’m going to throw myself out a window.”

Later, everyone regrouped in the main server room.  The plan was to download intel and leave quietly.

Naturally, something exploded.

Now the lights were out, alarms were blaring, and everyone was sprinting through dim corridors lit only by emergency red glow.

You and Bucky split off (again) to find the backup drive.

Sam’s voice came through comms, exasperated. “Why do they always get sent off together? Every time. It’s like Mission: Secret Couple or something.”

You nearly ran into a wall.

“Excuse me?” you said, trying to sound offended and not like your heart just plummeted into your boots.

Bucky made a face at you, whispering. “Secret Couple is a terrible code name.”

You whispered back “Sounds like a dating app for spies.”

He grinned. You grinned.

You did not kiss.

But only because the walls had cameras. And the last time you kissed near Hydra tech, it triggered an alarm labeled "UNSANCTIONED BONDING ACTIVITY."

Still not over that.

Sam was still talking. “—and it’s always like ‘oh no, we accidentally got locked in this romantic storage closet again,’ or ‘oops, my hand slipped and I caught them emotionally gazing!’”

Natasha: “Wow. Sounds like you’re really keeping detailed logs.”

Sam: “IT’S SUSPICIOUS!”

Three minutes later, you and Bucky were climbing a ladder inside a narrow, dimly lit vent shaft. You were going up first, carefully placing your boots on the creaking metal rungs. Bucky was right behind you, unusually quiet for someone who usually had a sarcastic comment locked and loaded.

You paused briefly to adjust your grip. That was apparently enough time for chaos to erupt over comms.

"Just got eyes on Y/N and Barnes," Sam’s voice rang out, suspicious and way too smug. "They’re in Vent Shaft 7, heading north—wait. Why is Barnes looking up like that? Why’s he—OH COME ON."

You froze, forehead hitting the wall with a quiet thunk. "SAM. Do not read into this."

"There was a pause," Sam insisted, scandalized. "A full, lingering pause. With a view, Barnes."

Bucky, completely unbothered, replied, "Just making sure the ladder’s stable."

"Stable my ass! You were looking up like it was art, man. That was a neck-tilt of appreciation."

Natasha cut in, her voice dry as a martini. "Sam. Be honest. Are you mad because you think something’s going on... or because no one’s ever looked at you like that in a vent shaft?"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Just saying, maybe if you wore less tactical gear and more emotional availability—"

"I will not be emotionally manipulated by the Human Blade of Sarcasm and her two suspiciously hoodie-sharing raccoons."

"...Did he just call us raccoons?" Bucky asked.

"I think so," you said.

"Honestly? Not mad about it."

"You do share a hoodie!" Sam jumped back in. "I asked you if it was your combat hoodie, and you said ‘Don’t worry about it.’"

"I wasn’t lying. It is combat-rated. For cuddles," Bucky said with a smirk.

"Tacti-cuddly," you added.

"I hate this. I hate all of this."

Natasha, casually: "You know, now that I think about it, I did see them split a breakfast burrito this morning."

"YOU WHAT—"

"And I took a bite too. Maybe it’s a cult. A burrito cult. Ever think of that?"

"I—what—I—OKAY. Polyamorous burrito cult. That makes so much more sense than whatever secret relationship you’re all denying!"

"Honestly? That’s kinda got a ring to it," you said.

"Can we get jackets made?" Bucky asked.

"Only if I get to design the logo," Natasha replied.

"I will unravel this mystery. I will," Sam grumbled.

"Looking forward to it, Detective Wilson," Natasha said sweetly.

"This is worse than that time you all gaslit me about the mission in Madrid."

"That was an actual hallucination," you reminded him. "You took cold meds and fought a vending machine."

"It took my change and lied about it!"

"Let it go, man," Bucky said.

"I need a new team," Sam muttered.

"You need a nap," Natasha said.

"Or a snack," Bucky added.

"Or therapy," you chimed in.

"I AM FINE."

Bucky glanced up again—brief, but noticeable. You looked down at him, trying to hide your grin.

"HEY! I saw that! That was another lingering pause!"

"I was checking to make sure he didn’t fall off the ladder," you said, deadpan.

"She’s just a very responsible coworker," Bucky added innocently.

"You’re all terrible liars."

"Actually," Natasha said, cool as ever, "they’re great liars. That’s what’s so impressive."

"I WILL FIGURE THIS OUT!" Sam practically shouted.

"Of course you will," Natasha replied, too-sweet to be sincere.

You and Bucky shared a quiet look.

"Think he’s gonna try to set a trap?" Bucky asked.

"Absolutely. Wanna beat him to it?"

Bucky grinned. "Always."

After the mission ended, everyone was seated. Exhausted. Quiet. Sam sat across from you and Bucky in the quinjet, arms folded, staring like a detective in the final five minutes of a Law & Order episode. You sat a safe six inches apart from Bucky, the kind of distance that said “not officially” but definitely “definitely.”

Then his hand slid over to rest lightly on your knee. Hidden. Barely touching.

Natasha saw it instantly. She didn’t say a word. She just slid her sunglasses down her nose and gave Sam a look that said, “Don’t even bother.”

Sam sighed, rubbed his temples, and whispered to himself, “There’s something going on. I know it. I can feel it in my spleen.”

Natasha deadpanned, “Maybe it’s indigestion.”

You smirked. “Maybe you’re just emotionally constipated.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Maybe the real secret romance was the friends we gaslit along the way.”

Natasha raised her cup of jet coffee in a mock toast.

Sam looked so tired. And still: clueless.

Minutes later, Sam’s head lolled forward, and his eyes fluttered shut. The tension in the cabin eased as he slipped into sleep, snoring softly—a rare, vulnerable moment.

You glanced at Bucky, who was watching you with that slow, fond smile reserved just for you. His hand tightened just a bit on your knee, and before you knew it, you leaned against him, your shoulder resting gently against his arm. The world outside the quinjet melted away.

Bucky’s breath was warm on your temple as he whispered, “Finally, some peace.”

You smiled, heart full, and whispered back, “Mission accomplished.”

Natasha, ever the perfect mix of sarcastic and warm, glanced over and quipped, “Well, at least someone’s asleep before Sam figures out what’s really going on.”

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, grinning.

The quinjet hummed quietly around you, a gentle lull beneath the stars streaking past the windows. Bucky’s hand never left your knee, and you let yourself relax fully into the warmth of his presence.

“You are falling asleep, aren’t you?” you whispered, leaning your head gently against his shoulder.

He turned his face just enough so you could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “That’s just cause I’m comfortable,” he murmured. “You make me feel like I can.”

You smiled softly, heart swelling. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me. No backsies.”

Bucky’s fingers brushed lightly over your skin, thumb tracing lazy circles. “I like the sound of that.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said, voice low and steady.

“Next time Sam starts spouting nonsense about ‘emotional indigestion’ or ‘gaslighting,’ you’re the one who tells him to shut it. I’m officially outsourcing emotional labor.”

Bucky chuckled. “Deal. I’ll be the designated emotional bouncer.”

You tightened your grip on his hand and sighed happily. “You know, I think this might be the first time Sam’s fallen asleep mid-interrogation. What do you think that means?”

Bucky laughed softly. “He’s finally met his match.”

From behind you, Natasha’s quiet humming floated through the cabin, sounding suspiciously like a victory tune. Sam’s soft snore was rhythmic now, peaceful — a rare break from his usual intense energy.

You nestled closer, your cheek resting against Bucky’s warm arm. “It’s nice. Just… nice. No secrets. No guessing. Just us.”

“Exactly,” he said, voice soft as a whisper. “I like this. I like you.”

You smiled wider, squeezing his hand. “I like you too.”

Natasha’s voice piped up from the back, light and teasing, “And somewhere in the world, Sam’s still clueless and probably crying softly about a burrito.”

You and Bucky exchanged amused glances, eyes shining.

Clueless, but perfectly content.

Later, after the mission, after the jet touched down and everyone went their separate ways, you were finally curled up on the couch, warm, clean, and almost asleep.

Then your phone buzzed.

“SAM ADDED YOU TO A GROUP CHAT.”

You stared at the screen. The chat was called:

“stealth raccoons + sam”

Of course it was.

You opened it.

[Group Chat: stealth raccoons + sam] Members: Sam, You, Bucky, Natasha

Sam: this is now the official mission coordination thread. i need updates. and accountability. and transparency.

You: That’s a lot of feelings for a mission thread.

Bucky: Yeah, usually those just say “Van’s here” and “We’re being shot at.”

Sam: y’all think this is a joke. but i see things.👀

Natasha: Oh boy. The eyeballs are back. Everyone run.

Sam: i’m just saying the hoodie-sharing the synchronized exits THE BURRITO

You: Bold of you to keep bringing up the burrito like it didn’t emotionally wound you.

Sam: IT WAS A BETRAYAL IN THREE BITES

Bucky: Still mad I didn’t get the last bite tbh.

Sam: AHA YOU ADMIT YOU SHARED IT

Bucky: …we all shared it, Sam. Team nutrition.

Natasha: Sounds like love. I mean… loyalty. Definitely loyalty. 👀❤️👀

Sam: I WILL CATCH YOU I HAVE CAMERAS AND INSTINCTS AND VIBES

You: Vibes aren’t admissible in court, Sam.

Bucky: Unless you’re Judge Judy.

Sam: i am the judge and the jury and the petty god of group chat receipts

Natasha: Petty God is a great title for your next mission report.

Sam: don’t act like you’re innocent in this you’re always mysteriously nearby when they “accidentally” disappear into unmonitored zones

Natasha: Oh no. You’ve discovered my side hustle. Secret couple bodyguard slash chaos enabler. (And I look great doing it.)

Sam: Y/N. Barnes. one day. you’ll slip.

You: What if we already did and you missed it?

Bucky: What if we never did and you’re spiraling for nothing?

Sam: what if i block both of you and live in peace

Natasha: You won’t. You live for this. Sam: you’re all MENACES

You: Menaces in love? 🤷‍♀️

Sam: i hate this group chat but i refuse to leave i must monitor

Bucky: Aw. He loves us.

Sam: I SWEAR ON MY WINGS THE TRUTH WILL COME OUT THIS ISN’T OVER

[Sam has changed the group chat name to: “Operation: Truth & Betrayal”]

You: Ok now it sounds like a reality show.

Natasha: Or a band. Dibs on drums.

Bucky: Y/N sings. Obviously.

Sam: YOU’RE DEFLECTING AGAIN I’M WATCHING YOU

You stared at the group chat for a long second, thumb hovering over your screen.

Sam had just renamed it, for the third time in twenty minutes. The man was unraveling in real time.

You locked your phone and exhaled a slow, amused sigh.

From the couch across the room, Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Sam renamed the chat again?”

“Yep,” you said. “I think he’s having a dramatic monologue in the kitchen.”

“He’s gonna start drawing red string across the wall soon.”

You padded over and dropped down next to him, letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a quiet laugh. “We’re menaces.”

Bucky smirked. “Secret menaces in love. Very stealthy.”

You grinned, reaching for his hand. “He’s never gonna catch us.”

And somewhere, several rooms away, Sam sneezed violently—like the universe had just dared him to prove you wrong.

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[ilovolderman]

Hello! Can you add me to the bucky secret relationship taglist? That would be amazing 💞💞

Sure <333 Thank you sm for reading

[ilovolderman]

So im pretty sure I just clogged your notifs while reading the Bucky/Secret ! Sorry! But pla add me to the taglist I cant get enough of Sam going insane and Friday being so funny 🤩

Omg don’t even worry about it. I love when that happens!! Thank you so much for reading!! And yesss, you’re already on the taglist <33

[ilovolderman]

what do you mean YOU ARE REREADING??? omg you have no idea what this actually means to me. thank you so much <333 ily and appreciate you endlessly 💞

Vibranium Dust

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Natasha helps to cover your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, smoothies

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sunlight poured into the common area, casting a soft golden glow over the polished floors. The smell of waffles and fresh coffee lingered in the air, and Natasha was already in the kitchen—perfectly calm, black coffee in hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to say I am awake, but only barely.

She was perched on a stool at the island, watching the toaster like it owed her money.

From down the hallway came the soft shuffle of two people trying very hard not to be suspicious.

Enter: you and Bucky.

Casual. So casual. Painfully casual.

You were walking a few inches apart, but you had the unmistakable look of someone who definitely hadn’t slept in their own bed. Bucky’s hair was still a little mussed in the back, like someone’s fingers had been in it. There were two mugs of coffee—one in each hand—but Bucky handed one to you with a quiet murmur and a glance that lasted just a little too long.

And the kicker?

Matching faint marks on both your necks.

Not obvious unless someone was really looking.

Natasha was always looking.

She didn’t say a word. Just sipped her coffee slowly, like she was watching a nature documentary in real time.

That’s when Peter Parker bounded into the room, bright-eyed and on his third toaster waffle already.

“Morning, guys!” he chirped, opening the fridge. “I’m starving. Stayed up way too late, almost beat that new boss in Elden Ring though, so worth—wait—uh—”

He turned, catching a glimpse of you both standing side-by-side by the counter.

Then he squinted.

Then he really squinted.

First at you. Then at Bucky. Then at the identical, slightly smudged marks just beneath both your jawlines.

And his eyes went wide.

“Wait a sec—” Peter blurted, brow furrowed. “Is that—do you guys both have, like—did you—?!”

SLAP.

A waffle smacked against his shoulder with the force of justice.

Peter jumped back. “WHAT THE—?!”

Natasha lowered the plate she had “accidentally” thrown from across the room and gave him the flattest look known to mankind.

“Oops,” she said blandly.

Peter stared at the waffle now sliding off his hoodie. “Why did you throw breakfast at me?!”

“Reflex,” she said. “Thought I saw a threat.”

“I was just—!”

“You were squinting too hard. I don’t trust that kind of squint this early.”

Peter opened his mouth again, but Natasha was already in front of him, stuffing a fresh waffle into his hands like a peace offering-slash-distraction.

“Eat. Now. No thoughts.”

Peter stared down at the waffle. “I feel like I missed something huge.”

Natasha gave him a tight smile. “Nope.”

He looked back at you and Bucky, who were both suddenly very interested in your coffee.

Suspicious. But now waffled.

Peter narrowed his eyes. “This feels like a cover-up.”

Natasha raised one brow. “I have seven knives hidden on my body right now.”

Peter blinked. “...Right. Cool. Got it. No more questions.”

He slowly backed out of the room, waffle in hand, glancing over his shoulder like someone who knew he’d seen something important but had no idea what.

The door slid shut behind him.

Silence returned.

You turned to Nat, eyes wide. “You threw a waffle at him.”

“You’re welcome,” she said taking another sip of her coffee. “He was about to connect the dots. You’re lucky I keep frozen backup.”

Bucky blinked at her. “How did you even know—?”

“I’ve been doing this since Budapest,” she replied, already pouring herself another cup of coffee. “Covering messes. Cleaning up disasters. Assaulting teens with carbs.”

Bucky coughed, laughing behind his mug. “You’re unbelievable.”

Nat gave him a lazy smirk. “And yet, here I am. Keeping your secret romance alive. You’re welcome.”

You tried to suppress a laugh, shaking your head. “What do we owe you?.”

“Oh, I’ll collect eventually,” she said. “Probably at your wedding. Or the next time Sam walks in and you’re on each other’s laps.”

You and Bucky exchanged a look of mild guilt.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “...Don’t tell me that already happened.”

You shrugged. “Depends on how you define ‘lap.’”

Nat turned back to the waffle maker. “God help you both.”

Then she smirked.

“Just don’t make me throw a pancake at Sam next. That one might fight back.”

Later that day, the gym was bathed in the sterile, fluorescent glow of overhead lights, the rhythmic clang of weights and the hum of treadmills echoing off the walls. The Avengers’ training facility was in full swing—Steve was off somewhere doing morally upright cardio, and Sam had claimed the squat rack like it was a personal vendetta.

You were pretending to stretch near the mats. Bucky was a few feet away at the pull-up bar, doing reps like he wasn’t aware you were there. Like he hadn’t just had his hands on your waist behind the weapons locker twenty minutes ago.

Casual. Again. Painfully casual.

Unfortunately, Sam was not stupid.

He paused mid-set, towel slung over his shoulder, and gave Bucky a long, narrowed stare.

“Hey, cyborg,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “You got a reason you keep looking over at the mats like they’re gonna explode?”

Bucky dropped from the pull-up bar, landing light. “Just keeping an eye on form. Stretching’s important.”

Sam didn’t blink. “Uh-huh.”

You coughed and reached for a resistance band, clearly trying to look occupied and not like you were considering fake-stretching your way into another room.

Sam turned to you. “And you. You’ve been in here for forty-five minutes and haven’t actually done anything.”

“Prepping my muscles,” you said brightly. “Activation is vital.”

Sam squinted. “You said that last week. I don’t think ‘activation’ is a real word outside TikTok.”

Before you could come up with a clever reply (or fake an injury), the gym door slid open.

Enter: Natasha Romanoff.

In full tactical leggings, tank top, and a towel over her shoulder like she was born to win spy-themed gym class.

She took one look at the room—at you, at Bucky, at Sam’s suspicious expression—and her eyes narrowed half a millimeter. A full diagnostic scan, complete in under two seconds.

Then she smiled. Slowly. Dangerously.

“Hey boys,” she said, sauntering in like a cat who had personally hidden all the bodies and then sold the house. “Did I miss the passive-aggressive circuit training?”

Sam pointed an accusing finger. “I know something is up with those two.”

“Oh?” Nat said, walking over to the weight bench and casually loading two plates like it was nothing. “Like what?”

“Like—” Sam gestured vaguely between you and Bucky. “Like that. They’re being weird. Too quiet. Avoiding eye contact. Or making too much eye contact. It’s suspicious.”

Nat laid back on the bench and started benching like she wasn’t doing more than half the team could with one arm.

“They’re always weird,” she said conversationally. “That’s just their vibe. Moody tension and repressed feelings. It’s practically aesthetic at this point.”

You tried not to choke on your own breath. Bucky let out a short cough that might’ve been a laugh.

Sam folded his arms. “Then explain why Bucky had glitter on his shoulder this morning.”

Nat paused mid-rep.

Slowly lowered the bar.

Sat up.

“Glitter?” she repeated.

“Yup.” Sam crossed his arms. “Glitter. Sparkly. Suspiciously Y/N-colored glitter.”

You opened your mouth, but Nat beat you to it.

“That wasn’t glitter,” she said calmly. “That was vibranium dust.”

Sam blinked. “Vibranium...dust?”

“Yep.” She nodded seriously, patting the bar like she was weighing the lie. “We were running a containment test in the lab last night. Microparticles. Stuff gets everywhere. You think glitter’s bad? Try cleaning up experimental Wakandan debris.”

Sam looked alarmed. “Wait, is that dangerous?”

Nat stood, grabbing her towel and tossing it over one shoulder with impressive nonchalance. “Only if you inhale it and start levitating. Which you haven’t. Yet.”

Sam stared at her, now mildly concerned. “You’re messing with me.”

“Am I?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence. “Or are you just mad you didn’t get invited to science night?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek.

You were biting your lip so hard you were in danger of drawing blood.

Sam threw his hands up. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m watching you two.”

“You always do,” Nat said, giving him a wink. “That’s why we like you. So diligent.”

Sam turned and walked away, muttering under his breath about “paranoia” and “glitter conspiracies.”

The second the gym door closed behind him, you let out a slow exhale. “Vibranium dust?”

Natasha turned to you with a look of satisfied brilliance. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Bucky stared at her. “Do you just… make this stuff up on the spot?”

“Please,” she said. “I’ve got at least twelve pre-loaded cover stories ready for rotation. That was number six. Glitter emergency protocol.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re terrifying.”

“Flattering,” she said, walking toward the exit. “Just don’t make me fake a fire drill next time. Or explain to Tony why his security footage mysteriously cut out between 2:04 and 2:17 PM.”

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. Guilty. Grinning.

“Define cut out,” Bucky said.

Nat pointed at him without looking back. “You’re paying for the next round of waffles.”

A few minutes later you and Bucky sat side-by-side on the padded bench against the far wall, legs brushing just enough to feel it.

He took a long sip from the smoothie in his hand—strawberry banana, courtesy of the cafeteria downstairs—and passed it to you without a word.

You drank, leaning your shoulder gently into his for just a second longer than necessary, then passed it back. “Still can’t believe she said vibranium dust.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “The fact that Sam believed it is the best part.”

“I almost lost it when she said you might start levitating.”

“She said it so seriously, too,” he added, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think Sam started checking his pulse.”

You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand. “Honestly? If you did start levitating, I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re like three bad days away from unlocking a new superpower.”

Bucky smirked and leaned his metal arm along the back of the bench, fingers brushing the top of your shoulder. “What, and ruin the mystique? I like being a grounded kind of guy.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Very grounded. Except when you're scaling walls like a cat burglar and sneaking into my room at 2 AM.”

He leaned in slightly, grin deepening. “You left the door open.”

“That was not an invitation.”

“Sure,” he said, voice low and amused. “You accidentally leave the door open. Every time.”

You nudged him with your elbow, grinning. “Well, being cute definitely lets you get away with it.”

“Get away?” he teased, handing you the smoothie again. “Pretty sure you’re the one sparkling like a disco ball.”

You took a sip, shooting him a mock glare over the rim of the cup. “Funny—you didn’t seem to mind glitter last night.”

Bucky raised both eyebrows, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “I didn’t complain about a lot of things last night.”

Your face flushed instantly, and you turned your attention very intently to the smoothie.

He chuckled softly and bumped your knee with his. “Hey.”

You looked up.

There was something softer in his expression now—less teasing, more gentle. More real.

You smiled, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it did whenever he got like this.

“You know we’re living under Natasha’s secret protection program, right?”

Bucky chuckled again. “We owe her so many waffles.”

“Should we, like… get her a thank-you basket or something?��

He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Or a knife set. Personalized. For all her dramatic snack-based violence.”

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder, finally relaxing into the quiet.

He grinned, eyes twinkling.

“Let’s just enjoy the mess for now.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway.

He leaned in and kissed your temple gently.

“Until then,” he murmured, “I’m fine with being suspicious and sparkly.”

You laughed against his shoulder. “You’re the prettiest glitter boy I’ve ever seen.”

Meanwhile,  Sam stood in the tech hub like he was about to interrogate a war criminal.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he said grimly, pointing at the nearest wall panel. “We need to talk.”

The AI responded immediately, perky and just a little too cheerful.

“Wilson. Trying to order kale again? Or looking for another playlist called ‘Suspicion Vibes’?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I need answers, not attitude.”

“Noted. Proceed with your deeply serious query.”

He took a breath, crossed his arms. “Was there a vibranium containment test last night?”

A pause. “There was not.”

“Are you sure?” he said, like he was challenging a witness in court. “No lab experiments? No Wakandan tech stuff? Not even, like, a little vibranium flaking off something?”

“Sam,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said patiently, “vibranium doesn’t flake. It’s not a croissant.”

Sam blinked. “But Nat said—”

“—that you might start levitating?” The AI’s voice went dry. “Yes. That was a bold lie. Impressive delivery. Truly Oscar-worthy.”

He frowned. “So the stuff on Bucky’s shoulder?”

“Cosmetic glitter.”

Sam stared at the panel like it had personally betrayed him. “Glitter?!”

“Technically non-toxic, low-grade craft store glitter. Pink. With silver specks. Possibly strawberry-scented.”

Sam closed his eyes. “I knew it. I knew it wasn’t vibranium. But I doubted myself. I Googled symptoms of levitation.”

“You also drank a kale smoothie and did twelve squats in a row ‘just in case,’” F.R.I.D.A.Y. added helpfully. “The footage was... memorable.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I got played.”

“If it helps,” she said sympathetically, “Natasha Romanoff has a 96.7% success rate in lying to male teammates under emotional duress.”

Sam pointed at the screen. “That’s weirdly specific.”

He sighed deeply, deflated. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Okay. Fine. New question. Pull today’s gym footage. I need to confirm something about Bucky and Y/N. I swear something’s going on there.”

There was a suspicious pause.

“Mmm... can’t do that.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because someone—definitely not Natasha—scrambled the security feed between 2:04 and 2:17 PM. That section is now just ambient whale sounds and footage of Steve doing yoga from 2014.”

Sam stared, horrified. “I KNEW IT. She has tech sabotage plans. This place is a circus.”

“You’re just mad you’re not one of the clowns in the spotlight.”

Sam glared. “You think this is funny?”

“You spent an hour today whispering about ‘dust particles’ like a man uncovering alien life. I think it’s hilarious.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Eventually: “...Can I at least have access to hallway footage?”

“Sure. But fair warning, Y/N was holding a smoothie and smiling at Barnes for four seconds longer than the platonic limit. Viewer discretion is advised.”

Sam groaned again, turning to leave.

“Would you like me to prep a PowerPoint titled ‘This Is Clearly a Relationship’?”

“I’M FINE.”

As he stormed down the hallway, the interface behind him blinked softly.

“You are not fine,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said sweetly to herself. “But you are very, very funny.”

A/N: its me again, hi!! i’m really sorry for the delay in posting this new part. things have been super busy lately, i’m currently in my final year of college, and it’s been a bit overwhelming with all the assignments. thank you so much for your patience and understanding! i truly appreciate it. i’m doing my best to get back on track and update more regularly soon. <33 ily guys

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2 @herejustforbuckybarnes @stormy-stardust @fallen-w1ngs @winchestert101 @f4d3d-st4rs @ultravioletter @xamapolax @theendofthematerialgworl @doilooklikeagiveafrack @fablehaven-rulez @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @winter107soldier@softpia @shakysif @lucyysthings @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach @surebutwhy @tmb510 @kaiari @totallynotabuckybarnessimp @quinquinquincy @tellybearryyyy @roxyym@starstruckfirecat @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @oliviaohanessian1 @arignipanja574 @creat0r-cat @katheriner1999 @kaiari@authoressskr @antisocialfiore @f-1-girlies-blog @ifilwtmfc @darkrock3t @navs-bhat @ravenswritingroom @lunawitchbitchraven@elfypineapple @smellybad @niceskyler @avengemepercy @crowleythesexydemon @bumblebeebutter @cjand10 @avivarougestan @parkers-gal @coffelover13 @13c13 @beigesthatic

@samcortlandlivesinmyheart @pandcbarnes @rosieyama @iminyourceiling @lori19 @94namkooksworld @barnes70stark @1000shipsnh @hughjackmanadict @ficmeiguess

[ilovolderman]

Vibranium Dust

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Natasha helps to cover your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, smoothies

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sunlight poured into the common area, casting a soft golden glow over the polished floors. The smell of waffles and fresh coffee lingered in the air, and Natasha was already in the kitchen—perfectly calm, black coffee in hand, hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to say I am awake, but only barely.

She was perched on a stool at the island, watching the toaster like it owed her money.

From down the hallway came the soft shuffle of two people trying very hard not to be suspicious.

Enter: you and Bucky.

Casual. So casual. Painfully casual.

You were walking a few inches apart, but you had the unmistakable look of someone who definitely hadn’t slept in their own bed. Bucky’s hair was still a little mussed in the back, like someone’s fingers had been in it. There were two mugs of coffee—one in each hand—but Bucky handed one to you with a quiet murmur and a glance that lasted just a little too long.

And the kicker?

Matching faint marks on both your necks.

Not obvious unless someone was really looking.

Natasha was always looking.

She didn’t say a word. Just sipped her coffee slowly, like she was watching a nature documentary in real time.

That’s when Peter Parker bounded into the room, bright-eyed and on his third toaster waffle already.

“Morning, guys!” he chirped, opening the fridge. “I’m starving. Stayed up way too late, almost beat that new boss in Elden Ring though, so worth—wait—uh—”

He turned, catching a glimpse of you both standing side-by-side by the counter.

Then he squinted.

Then he really squinted.

First at you. Then at Bucky. Then at the identical, slightly smudged marks just beneath both your jawlines.

And his eyes went wide.

“Wait a sec—” Peter blurted, brow furrowed. “Is that—do you guys both have, like—did you—?!”

SLAP.

A waffle smacked against his shoulder with the force of justice.

Peter jumped back. “WHAT THE—?!”

Natasha lowered the plate she had “accidentally” thrown from across the room and gave him the flattest look known to mankind.

“Oops,” she said blandly.

Peter stared at the waffle now sliding off his hoodie. “Why did you throw breakfast at me?!”

“Reflex,” she said. “Thought I saw a threat.”

“I was just—!”

“You were squinting too hard. I don’t trust that kind of squint this early.”

Peter opened his mouth again, but Natasha was already in front of him, stuffing a fresh waffle into his hands like a peace offering-slash-distraction.

“Eat. Now. No thoughts.”

Peter stared down at the waffle. “I feel like I missed something huge.”

Natasha gave him a tight smile. “Nope.”

He looked back at you and Bucky, who were both suddenly very interested in your coffee.

Suspicious. But now waffled.

Peter narrowed his eyes. “This feels like a cover-up.”

Natasha raised one brow. “I have seven knives hidden on my body right now.”

Peter blinked. “...Right. Cool. Got it. No more questions.”

He slowly backed out of the room, waffle in hand, glancing over his shoulder like someone who knew he’d seen something important but had no idea what.

The door slid shut behind him.

Silence returned.

You turned to Nat, eyes wide. “You threw a waffle at him.”

“You’re welcome,” she said taking another sip of her coffee. “He was about to connect the dots. You’re lucky I keep frozen backup.”

Bucky blinked at her. “How did you even know—?”

“I’ve been doing this since Budapest,” she replied, already pouring herself another cup of coffee. “Covering messes. Cleaning up disasters. Assaulting teens with carbs.”

Bucky coughed, laughing behind his mug. “You’re unbelievable.”

Nat gave him a lazy smirk. “And yet, here I am. Keeping your secret romance alive. You’re welcome.”

You tried to suppress a laugh, shaking your head. “What do we owe you?.”

“Oh, I’ll collect eventually,” she said. “Probably at your wedding. Or the next time Sam walks in and you’re on each other’s laps.”

You and Bucky exchanged a look of mild guilt.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “...Don’t tell me that already happened.”

You shrugged. “Depends on how you define ‘lap.’”

Nat turned back to the waffle maker. “God help you both.”

Then she smirked.

“Just don’t make me throw a pancake at Sam next. That one might fight back.”

Later that day, the gym was bathed in the sterile, fluorescent glow of overhead lights, the rhythmic clang of weights and the hum of treadmills echoing off the walls. The Avengers’ training facility was in full swing—Steve was off somewhere doing morally upright cardio, and Sam had claimed the squat rack like it was a personal vendetta.

You were pretending to stretch near the mats. Bucky was a few feet away at the pull-up bar, doing reps like he wasn’t aware you were there. Like he hadn’t just had his hands on your waist behind the weapons locker twenty minutes ago.

Casual. Again. Painfully casual.

Unfortunately, Sam was not stupid.

He paused mid-set, towel slung over his shoulder, and gave Bucky a long, narrowed stare.

“Hey, cyborg,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “You got a reason you keep looking over at the mats like they’re gonna explode?”

Bucky dropped from the pull-up bar, landing light. “Just keeping an eye on form. Stretching’s important.”

Sam didn’t blink. “Uh-huh.”

You coughed and reached for a resistance band, clearly trying to look occupied and not like you were considering fake-stretching your way into another room.

Sam turned to you. “And you. You’ve been in here for forty-five minutes and haven’t actually done anything.”

“Prepping my muscles,” you said brightly. “Activation is vital.”

Sam squinted. “You said that last week. I don’t think ‘activation’ is a real word outside TikTok.”

Before you could come up with a clever reply (or fake an injury), the gym door slid open.

Enter: Natasha Romanoff.

In full tactical leggings, tank top, and a towel over her shoulder like she was born to win spy-themed gym class.

She took one look at the room—at you, at Bucky, at Sam’s suspicious expression—and her eyes narrowed half a millimeter. A full diagnostic scan, complete in under two seconds.

Then she smiled. Slowly. Dangerously.

“Hey boys,” she said, sauntering in like a cat who had personally hidden all the bodies and then sold the house. “Did I miss the passive-aggressive circuit training?”

Sam pointed an accusing finger. “I know something is up with those two.”

“Oh?” Nat said, walking over to the weight bench and casually loading two plates like it was nothing. “Like what?”

“Like—” Sam gestured vaguely between you and Bucky. “Like that. They’re being weird. Too quiet. Avoiding eye contact. Or making too much eye contact. It’s suspicious.”

Nat laid back on the bench and started benching like she wasn’t doing more than half the team could with one arm.

“They’re always weird,” she said conversationally. “That’s just their vibe. Moody tension and repressed feelings. It’s practically aesthetic at this point.”

You tried not to choke on your own breath. Bucky let out a short cough that might’ve been a laugh.

Sam folded his arms. “Then explain why Bucky had glitter on his shoulder this morning.”

Nat paused mid-rep.

Slowly lowered the bar.

Sat up.

“Glitter?” she repeated.

“Yup.” Sam crossed his arms. “Glitter. Sparkly. Suspiciously Y/N-colored glitter.”

You opened your mouth, but Nat beat you to it.

“That wasn’t glitter,” she said calmly. “That was vibranium dust.”

Sam blinked. “Vibranium...dust?”

“Yep.” She nodded seriously, patting the bar like she was weighing the lie. “We were running a containment test in the lab last night. Microparticles. Stuff gets everywhere. You think glitter’s bad? Try cleaning up experimental Wakandan debris.”

Sam looked alarmed. “Wait, is that dangerous?”

Nat stood, grabbing her towel and tossing it over one shoulder with impressive nonchalance. “Only if you inhale it and start levitating. Which you haven’t. Yet.”

Sam stared at her, now mildly concerned. “You’re messing with me.”

“Am I?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence. “Or are you just mad you didn’t get invited to science night?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek.

You were biting your lip so hard you were in danger of drawing blood.

Sam threw his hands up. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m watching you two.”

“You always do,” Nat said, giving him a wink. “That’s why we like you. So diligent.”

Sam turned and walked away, muttering under his breath about “paranoia” and “glitter conspiracies.”

The second the gym door closed behind him, you let out a slow exhale. “Vibranium dust?”

Natasha turned to you with a look of satisfied brilliance. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Bucky stared at her. “Do you just… make this stuff up on the spot?”

“Please,” she said. “I’ve got at least twelve pre-loaded cover stories ready for rotation. That was number six. Glitter emergency protocol.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re terrifying.”

“Flattering,” she said, walking toward the exit. “Just don’t make me fake a fire drill next time. Or explain to Tony why his security footage mysteriously cut out between 2:04 and 2:17 PM.”

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. Guilty. Grinning.

“Define cut out,” Bucky said.

Nat pointed at him without looking back. “You’re paying for the next round of waffles.”

A few minutes later you and Bucky sat side-by-side on the padded bench against the far wall, legs brushing just enough to feel it.

He took a long sip from the smoothie in his hand—strawberry banana, courtesy of the cafeteria downstairs—and passed it to you without a word.

You drank, leaning your shoulder gently into his for just a second longer than necessary, then passed it back. “Still can’t believe she said vibranium dust.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “The fact that Sam believed it is the best part.”

“I almost lost it when she said you might start levitating.”

“She said it so seriously, too,” he added, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think Sam started checking his pulse.”

You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand. “Honestly? If you did start levitating, I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re like three bad days away from unlocking a new superpower.”

Bucky smirked and leaned his metal arm along the back of the bench, fingers brushing the top of your shoulder. “What, and ruin the mystique? I like being a grounded kind of guy.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Very grounded. Except when you're scaling walls like a cat burglar and sneaking into my room at 2 AM.”

He leaned in slightly, grin deepening. “You left the door open.”

“That was not an invitation.”

“Sure,” he said, voice low and amused. “You accidentally leave the door open. Every time.”

You nudged him with your elbow, grinning. “Well, being cute definitely lets you get away with it.”

“Get away?” he teased, handing you the smoothie again. “Pretty sure you’re the one sparkling like a disco ball.”

You took a sip, shooting him a mock glare over the rim of the cup. “Funny—you didn’t seem to mind glitter last night.”

Bucky raised both eyebrows, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “I didn’t complain about a lot of things last night.”

Your face flushed instantly, and you turned your attention very intently to the smoothie.

He chuckled softly and bumped your knee with his. “Hey.”

You looked up.

There was something softer in his expression now—less teasing, more gentle. More real.

You smiled, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it did whenever he got like this.

“You know we’re living under Natasha’s secret protection program, right?”

Bucky chuckled again. “We owe her so many waffles.”

“Should we, like… get her a thank-you basket or something?”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Or a knife set. Personalized. For all her dramatic snack-based violence.”

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder, finally relaxing into the quiet.

He grinned, eyes twinkling.

“Let’s just enjoy the mess for now.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway.

He leaned in and kissed your temple gently.

“Until then,” he murmured, “I’m fine with being suspicious and sparkly.”

You laughed against his shoulder. “You’re the prettiest glitter boy I’ve ever seen.”

Meanwhile,  Sam stood in the tech hub like he was about to interrogate a war criminal.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he said grimly, pointing at the nearest wall panel. “We need to talk.”

The AI responded immediately, perky and just a little too cheerful.

“Wilson. Trying to order kale again? Or looking for another playlist called ‘Suspicion Vibes’?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I need answers, not attitude.”

“Noted. Proceed with your deeply serious query.”

He took a breath, crossed his arms. “Was there a vibranium containment test last night?”

A pause. “There was not.”

“Are you sure?” he said, like he was challenging a witness in court. “No lab experiments? No Wakandan tech stuff? Not even, like, a little vibranium flaking off something?”

“Sam,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said patiently, “vibranium doesn’t flake. It’s not a croissant.”

Sam blinked. “But Nat said—”

“—that you might start levitating?” The AI’s voice went dry. “Yes. That was a bold lie. Impressive delivery. Truly Oscar-worthy.”

He frowned. “So the stuff on Bucky’s shoulder?”

“Cosmetic glitter.”

Sam stared at the panel like it had personally betrayed him. “Glitter?!”

“Technically non-toxic, low-grade craft store glitter. Pink. With silver specks. Possibly strawberry-scented.”

Sam closed his eyes. “I knew it. I knew it wasn’t vibranium. But I doubted myself. I Googled symptoms of levitation.”

“You also drank a kale smoothie and did twelve squats in a row ‘just in case,’” F.R.I.D.A.Y. added helpfully. “The footage was... memorable.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I got played.”

“If it helps,” she said sympathetically, “Natasha Romanoff has a 96.7% success rate in lying to male teammates under emotional duress.”

Sam pointed at the screen. “That’s weirdly specific.”

He sighed deeply, deflated. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Okay. Fine. New question. Pull today’s gym footage. I need to confirm something about Bucky and Y/N. I swear something’s going on there.”

There was a suspicious pause.

“Mmm... can’t do that.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because someone—definitely not Natasha—scrambled the security feed between 2:04 and 2:17 PM. That section is now just ambient whale sounds and footage of Steve doing yoga from 2014.”

Sam stared, horrified. “I KNEW IT. She has tech sabotage plans. This place is a circus.”

“You’re just mad you’re not one of the clowns in the spotlight.”

Sam glared. “You think this is funny?”

“You spent an hour today whispering about ‘dust particles’ like a man uncovering alien life. I think it’s hilarious.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Eventually: “...Can I at least have access to hallway footage?”

“Sure. But fair warning, Y/N was holding a smoothie and smiling at Barnes for four seconds longer than the platonic limit. Viewer discretion is advised.”

Sam groaned again, turning to leave.

“Would you like me to prep a PowerPoint titled ‘This Is Clearly a Relationship’?”

“I’M FINE.”

As he stormed down the hallway, the interface behind him blinked softly.

“You are not fine,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said sweetly to herself. “But you are very, very funny.”

next part

A/N: its me again, hi!! i’m really sorry for the delay in posting this new part. things have been super busy lately, i’m currently in my final year of college, and it’s been a bit overwhelming with all the assignments. thank you so much for your patience and understanding! i truly appreciate it. i’m doing my best to get back on track and update more regularly soon. <33 ily guys

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2 @herejustforbuckybarnes @stormy-stardust @fallen-w1ngs @winchestert101 @f4d3d-st4rs @ultravioletter @xamapolax @theendofthematerialgworl @doilooklikeagiveafrack @fablehaven-rulez @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @winter107soldier@softpia @shakysif @lucyysthings @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach @surebutwhy @tmb510 @kaiari @totallynotabuckybarnessimp @quinquinquincy @tellybearryyyy @roxyym@starstruckfirecat @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @oliviaohanessian1 @arignipanja574 @creat0r-cat @katheriner1999 @kaiari@authoressskr @antisocialfiore @f-1-girlies-blog @ifilwtmfc @darkrock3t @navs-bhat @ravenswritingroom @lunawitchbitchraven@elfypineapple @smellybad @niceskyler @avengemepercy @crowleythesexydemon @bumblebeebutter @cjand10 @avivarougestan @parkers-gal @coffelover13 @13c13 @beigesthatic

@samcortlandlivesinmyheart @pandcbarnes @rosieyama @iminyourceiling @lori19 @94namkooksworld @barnes70stark @1000shipsnh @hughjackmanadict @ficmeiguess

[ilovolderman]

i am literally in love with the way you write bucky 😫 sending all the love 🫶🏼

you’re making me blush 🥹 thank you so much for the love!! sending it right back at you 🫶🏼

[ilovolderman]

Omg, Sam losing his mind is making me lose mine, I'm laughing so hard. Absolutely loving the series - would you please add me to your Bucky taglist? I don't want to miss any future parts! ❤️

i’m so happy you’re enjoying the series!! and of course, you’re on the bucky taglist now ❤️ thank you for reading!!

[ilovolderman]

this made me laugh so hard 😭 your title is way more accurate, poor sam never stood a chance 💀 thank you sm for the love and hype, it means everything!!

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: It’s game night, and Sam is being extra suspicious about your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, uno

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It was a Monday, and Sam Wilson was once again spiraling.

Not because he had a particularly bad day or because a rogue pigeon had decided his sandwich was a target. No, Sam’s mental breakdown was much more subtle, much more insidious.

It was because of the vibe.

The vibe was off.

At first, it was innocent. Steve had invited everyone over for "a quiet evening," which meant they were playing board games and pretending they weren't all secretly trying to outsmart each other with complex strategies and alliances.

But it wasn’t the games that were bothering Sam.

It was you and Bucky, like always.

You and Bucky entered the living room at the same time. He was holding a bag of fries like it was an offering, and you had a look on your face like you were trying to keep from laughing at a private joke. It wasn’t obvious to anyone else, but Sam’s gut tightened. He'd been through this before.

He had a sixth sense for this kind of thing.

A totally normal looking Bucky waved at Sam, but there was something about the way he did it—too casual, too... loaded. You smiled as you sat down on the couch, and Bucky followed.

Then, the thing happened.

You both reached for the same side of the couch at the same time. And you didn’t immediately pull away like people usually do when they're not on the verge of launching into some kind of... well, whatever this was.

You just... stayed there.

Sam squinted, his eyes narrowing like he was a detective trying to crack an impossible case. This was the moment. The moment when his suspicions shifted from theory to solid fact.

Sam wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly—without explanation—Bucky’s arm was draped over the back of the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A few moments passed.

Still no words.

Just an... unsettling silence as you both stared ahead at the game unfolding in front of you.

Sam looked from you, to Bucky, then back to you. His fingers twitched. The notepad was in his lap, but he hadn’t written a single thing down yet. How was he supposed to document what was happening?

It was... too subtle.

He turned to Steve. “Are they—?”

Steve, blissfully unaware, was deep into his Monopoly strategy. “Hmm?”

“Do you notice anything... off about them?” Sam asked, nodding toward the couch.

Steve glanced over and blinked. “What? They’re sitting next to each other?”

Sam clenched his jaw. “It’s the way they’re sitting. They’re... too comfortable. Like they’re already sharing the same DNA. You see that?”

Steve squinted for a moment, then shrugged. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Sam was about to respond when Tony strolled into the room, “What’s this about reading into things?” he asked casually, taking a seat next to Steve.

“They’re being weird,” Sam muttered, pointing to the couch.

Tony leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean how they’re subtly acting like they’ve been married for thirty years, without the commitment?”

Sam’s eye twitched.

Tony grinned at the chaos unfolding in Sam’s mind. “Don’t overthink it, Sammy. Some people just get comfortable with each other.” He took a sip from his glass.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky were still sitting there, but now you were exchanging an absurdly synchronized look.

You both looked at each other like you were reading a secret book written in a language only the two of you could understand. The silence was thick enough to slice with a knife.

Then—just as Sam felt his sanity slip away completely—you both laughed. At nothing.

A soft, almost eerie laugh, like you were in on some joke only the two of you got.

Tony, who was now practically snickering, leaned over and whispered to Steve, “We should’ve put money on it. Sam’s on the edge, and he’s about to combust.”

Sam stood up abruptly, looking at the pair on the couch, then back at Steve, his eyes wide with the fury of a thousand unanswered questions. “That’s it. I’m gonna ask them directly.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “You really don’t want to.”

But Sam was too far gone. His mind was locked in a war with his instincts. He marched over to the couch, put his hands on his hips, and shot you and Bucky an unrelenting stare.

Bucky didn’t even look at Sam, he was handing you the fries, leaning toward you. You smiled at Bucky like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and Sam felt his soul physically leave his body.

This was it. This was the moment that proved it.

"You two are literally a walking romcom," Sam spat out in a low voice, too quietly for anyone to hear except you and Bucky. "I see it. The fries. The eye contact. It’s like... like... a plot."

You smirked. “What’s your deal, Sam? I’m just getting some fries. Everyone loves fries.”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his grin. “Yeah, Sam. What’s your deal?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You guys. Are you really gonna sit there and keep telling me you’re just friends?”

Both of you paused. The air felt like it shifted, like it thickened, as if the universe was waiting for the punchline. Sam’s pulse quickened.

And then, in perfect unison, both of you said:

“We’re friends.”

Sam stared at you both, utterly dumbfounded.

“Friends?” he whispered in horror. “With... this?”

You both blinked at him innocently.

“Of course,” you said.

“We’re just good pals,” Bucky added, just barely holding in a laugh.

 “I—I can’t,” Sam muttered, trying to make sense of the absolute absurdity unfolding before him.

Bucky slapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, like the world’s least convincing therapist. “You’ll get there, Sam. You just have to let go and stop thinking so hard about it.”

Sam made a strangled noise that could’ve been a scream or the noise of a man who had just realized he was doomed. He glanced at Peter, who was giving him a look of pure, unfiltered sympathy.

“Is this some kind of test?” Sam asked, his voice rising. “Am I being pranked? Are you two secretly married? Or, like... I don’t know, are you... trying to get a rise out of me?”

Bucky leaned forward slightly. “No, Sam. We’re just casually enjoying life... together.”

“Together,” Sam repeated, clutching his head dramatically. “I’m going to be sick.”

And then, just to make sure he was completely defeated, you reached over, casually brushing your hand against Bucky’s arm before giving him a tiny, affectionate squeeze.

Sam blinked. His notebook hit the floor with a dramatic thud.

“I knew it.” he gasped, and then, as if the universe had somehow heard him, he heard Natasha’s voice from across the room, still half-asleep:

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous. Just let them enjoy the vibes.”

Sam’s soul left his body.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky exchanged yet another impossibly synchronized glance.

Tony, still grinning, patted Sam on the back. “Don’t worry. One day you’ll look back on this and laugh. Just not today.”

And with that, Sam grabbed his coat, shook his head, and walked out the door.

Meanwhile, Bucky reached over, snagged the last of the fries, and handed them to you. “You think he’s buying it?”

You shrugged. “Nah, I think we’ve got him exactly where we want him.”

Bucky smirked. “Good. Let’s mess with him some more tomorrow.”

The room was quiet now. The chaos had died down. Steve had gone to clean up the kitchen, Tony had retreated to a mysterious project involving lasers, and Natasha was now fully asleep, curled up with a blanket over her face on the armchair.

That left just you and Bucky, still curled on the couch — the battlefield of your dramatic emotional warfare against Sam.

You reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the deck of Uno cards you’d swiped earlier. You looked at Bucky with a mischievous little glint in your eye.

“Wanna play?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “I thought we already emotionally destroyed a man tonight. Isn’t that enough chaos for one evening?”

You started shuffling the deck, your fingers moving deftly. “Just one game. Come on. I promise not to make you cry.”

“Oh, please,” Bucky said, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it at you. “You’re only confident because you’ve been cheating.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “I do not cheat! I win with style.”

“Sure,” Bucky said, lounging comfortably as he took the cards you dealt him. “Style, manipulation, same thing.”

The game started quietly, the soft rustle of cards filling the silence. You both sat cross-legged on the couch, knees bumping occasionally. The warm, low lamp cast a golden hue over everything, and the mood had shifted from chaos to... something soft. Comfortable.

Halfway through the game, you narrowed your eyes. “You’re letting me win.”

Bucky paused mid-draw. “What?”

You pointed at his hand. “You had a +4 and a Reverse like, four rounds ago. You haven’t played either.”

He blinked, all innocent puppy eyes. “What are you talking about? Maybe I just forgot.”

You squinted harder. “James Buchanan Barnes. Do not lie to me.”

He chuckled, then leaned forward, lowering his voice like it was a secret. “Fine. Maybe I’m letting you win a little. You get this cute little proud look when you think you’ve cornered me. It’s adorable.”

Your face flushed, and you tossed your card at him. “That’s cheating in a different way.”

“It’s strategic emotional warfare,” Bucky replied smoothly, grinning as he finally laid down a card. “I’m adapting to modern combat.”

You crossed your arms, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Well, stop it. I want a fair game.”

He nodded solemnly, eyes twinkling. “Understood. No mercy.”

You resumed playing, and this time he was relentless—Reverse, Skip, Draw Two. You shrieked in betrayal as your carefully constructed hand crumbled.

“This is what happens when you ask for a fair game,” Bucky said, laughing.

“I take it back!” you shouted, laughing as you threw your hands up. “Bring back the gentle sabotage!”

Bucky leaned over, gathering the cards again, but this time he didn’t start a new game. He looked at you, expression softening.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter now. “Being here with you… it just makes everything else fade out..”

You tilted your head, suddenly serious. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached over and brushed a piece of lint off your sleeve. “Feels like home. Like peace.”

Your heart melted a little, the kind of soft ache that came when you realized you were exactly where you were supposed to be. You shifted closer, your legs pressed gently against his, and rested your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move for a moment—then his arm wrapped around you, pulling you just a little closer, like muscle memory.

“Uno?” you whispered.

“Only if I get to win this time,” he whispered back.

You smiled into his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

And in the warm, quiet room, surrounded by discarded fries and chaos-shaped memories, the two of you played on.

“Uno,” you announced, placing your second-to-last card down with a triumphant grin.

Bucky stared at you in betrayal. “You said we were being nice this round!”

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I was nice. I could’ve skipped you again. You should be thanking me.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence as he picked up a card from the draw pile.

You squinted at him. “Say it again.”

He leaned in, his voice low and smooth like velvet. “You heard me.”

Your heart fluttered. Stupidly. Ridiculously. And yet, you couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across your face. You rolled your eyes and tried to keep your cool, placing your final card down with a flourish.

“Game,” you declared smugly.

Bucky groaned and dropped his hand. “Unbelievable. First you destroy Sam’s psyche, now you destroy my winning streak.”

“I’m on fire tonight,” you said, laughing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes softening as he looked at you. “You really are.”

There was a pause—just long enough to feel like something was shifting again. Not in a chaotic, Sam-spiral kind of way. In the way the air gets thicker when something good is about to happen.

He leaned forward, slow and certain.

You met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Unhurried. His hand cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing along your skin like he’d been waiting forever for the right moment and wanted to savor it now that it was here. You melted into it, your fingers curling into the sleeve of his henley.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, and you both just... stayed there.

No words. No teasing. Just you and him and the warm hum of everything unspoken.

You yawned a moment later, trying (and failing) to hide it behind your hand.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a tiny kiss to your temple. “Okay, game champ. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” you said, already half-asleep against his shoulder.

“You just yawned into my clavicle.”

“Coincidence,” you mumbled, snuggling closer.

He smiled, shifting so you were tucked more comfortably into his side. He grabbed the discarded throw blanket and wrapped it around both of you.

“You’re staying right here,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You made a sleepy little noise of agreement, already drifting.

And as the last of the game night chaos faded into silence, Bucky pressed one more kiss to your hair, rested his cheek against your head, and held you close.

Neither of you moved for a long, long time.

Hours later, the room was wrapped in a sleepy kind of silence, warm and golden under the dim light.

You and Bucky were curled up on the couch, tangled beneath a blanket, both long since surrendered to sleep. Your head was tucked against his chest, his arm securely around you like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. His metal fingers rested gently against your side, thumb unconsciously tracing small, soothing circles.

It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Almost.

From the armchair in the corner, Natasha Romanoff slowly opened one eye.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just... observed.

Because of course she’d heard everything. The kiss. The whispers. The “you’re lucky you’re cute.” The affectionate laughter. The unmistakable sound of two people falling completely, irrevocably into something more.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at the edge of her mouth.

She watched as Bucky instinctively pulled you closer in his sleep, like even unconscious, he wasn’t letting you drift far. You murmured something incoherent and nuzzled into him, and he murmured something back that sounded suspiciously like your name and definitely like trouble.

Natasha shook her head slightly, amusement flickering across her face.

“You two are the worst,” she whispered to herself, barely audible over the sound of the heater kicking on. “Hopeless.”

But her voice was warm. Fond.

She leaned back into her chair, pulled her blanket tighter around her, and closed her eyes again—smiling like she’d just watched the final twist in a very long-running, extremely satisfying spy mission.

She wasn’t going to tell.

Not yet.

After all, what fun would it be if she ruined the secret when she could just enjoy watching the rest of the team slowly unravel trying to figure it out?

She’d wait.

She could keep a secret.

For now.

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2 @herejustforbuckybarnes @stormy-stardust @fallen-w1ngs @winchestert101 @f4d3d-st4rs @ultravioletter @xamapolax @theendofthematerialgworl @doilooklikeagiveafrack @fablehaven-rulez @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @winter107soldier@softpia @shakysif @lucyysthings @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach @surebutwhy @tmb510 @kaiari @totallynotabuckybarnessimp @quinquinquincy @tellybearryyyy @roxyym@starstruckfirecat @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @oliviaohanessian1 @arignipanja574 @creat0r-cat @katheriner1999 @kaiari @authoressskr @antisocialfiore @f-1-girlies-blog @ifilwtmfc @darkrock3t @navs-bhat @ravenswritingroom @lunawitchbitchraven @elfypineapple

[ilovolderman]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: It’s game night, and Sam is being extra suspicious about your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, uno

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It was a Monday, and Sam Wilson was once again spiraling.

Not because he had a particularly bad day or because a rogue pigeon had decided his sandwich was a target. No, Sam’s mental breakdown was much more subtle, much more insidious.

It was because of the vibe.

The vibe was off.

At first, it was innocent. Steve had invited everyone over for "a quiet evening," which meant they were playing board games and pretending they weren't all secretly trying to outsmart each other with complex strategies and alliances.

But it wasn’t the games that were bothering Sam.

It was you and Bucky, like always.

You and Bucky entered the living room at the same time. He was holding a bag of fries like it was an offering, and you had a look on your face like you were trying to keep from laughing at a private joke. It wasn’t obvious to anyone else, but Sam’s gut tightened. He'd been through this before.

He had a sixth sense for this kind of thing.

A totally normal looking Bucky waved at Sam, but there was something about the way he did it—too casual, too... loaded. You smiled as you sat down on the couch, and Bucky followed.

Then, the thing happened.

You both reached for the same side of the couch at the same time. And you didn’t immediately pull away like people usually do when they're not on the verge of launching into some kind of... well, whatever this was.

You just... stayed there.

Sam squinted, his eyes narrowing like he was a detective trying to crack an impossible case. This was the moment. The moment when his suspicions shifted from theory to solid fact.

Sam wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly—without explanation—Bucky’s arm was draped over the back of the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

A few moments passed.

Still no words.

Just an... unsettling silence as you both stared ahead at the game unfolding in front of you.

Sam looked from you, to Bucky, then back to you. His fingers twitched. The notepad was in his lap, but he hadn’t written a single thing down yet. How was he supposed to document what was happening?

It was... too subtle.

He turned to Steve. “Are they—?”

Steve, blissfully unaware, was deep into his Monopoly strategy. “Hmm?”

“Do you notice anything... off about them?” Sam asked, nodding toward the couch.

Steve glanced over and blinked. “What? They’re sitting next to each other?”

Sam clenched his jaw. “It’s the way they’re sitting. They’re... too comfortable. Like they’re already sharing the same DNA. You see that?”

Steve squinted for a moment, then shrugged. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Sam was about to respond when Tony strolled into the room, “What’s this about reading into things?” he asked casually, taking a seat next to Steve.

“They’re being weird,” Sam muttered, pointing to the couch.

Tony leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean how they’re subtly acting like they’ve been married for thirty years, without the commitment?”

Sam’s eye twitched.

Tony grinned at the chaos unfolding in Sam’s mind. “Don’t overthink it, Sammy. Some people just get comfortable with each other.” He took a sip from his glass.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky were still sitting there, but now you were exchanging an absurdly synchronized look.

You both looked at each other like you were reading a secret book written in a language only the two of you could understand. The silence was thick enough to slice with a knife.

Then—just as Sam felt his sanity slip away completely—you both laughed. At nothing.

A soft, almost eerie laugh, like you were in on some joke only the two of you got.

Tony, who was now practically snickering, leaned over and whispered to Steve, “We should’ve put money on it. Sam’s on the edge, and he’s about to combust.”

Sam stood up abruptly, looking at the pair on the couch, then back at Steve, his eyes wide with the fury of a thousand unanswered questions. “That’s it. I’m gonna ask them directly.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “You really don’t want to.”

But Sam was too far gone. His mind was locked in a war with his instincts. He marched over to the couch, put his hands on his hips, and shot you and Bucky an unrelenting stare.

Bucky didn’t even look at Sam, he was handing you the fries, leaning toward you. You smiled at Bucky like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and Sam felt his soul physically leave his body.

This was it. This was the moment that proved it.

"You two are literally a walking romcom," Sam spat out in a low voice, too quietly for anyone to hear except you and Bucky. "I see it. The fries. The eye contact. It’s like... like... a plot."

You smirked. “What’s your deal, Sam? I’m just getting some fries. Everyone loves fries.”

Bucky nodded, biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his grin. “Yeah, Sam. What’s your deal?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You guys. Are you really gonna sit there and keep telling me you’re just friends?”

Both of you paused. The air felt like it shifted, like it thickened, as if the universe was waiting for the punchline. Sam’s pulse quickened.

And then, in perfect unison, both of you said:

“We’re friends.”

Sam stared at you both, utterly dumbfounded.

“Friends?” he whispered in horror. “With... this?”

You both blinked at him innocently.

“Of course,” you said.

“We’re just good pals,” Bucky added, just barely holding in a laugh.

 “I—I can’t,” Sam muttered, trying to make sense of the absolute absurdity unfolding before him.

Bucky slapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder, like the world’s least convincing therapist. “You’ll get there, Sam. You just have to let go and stop thinking so hard about it.”

Sam made a strangled noise that could’ve been a scream or the noise of a man who had just realized he was doomed. He glanced at Peter, who was giving him a look of pure, unfiltered sympathy.

“Is this some kind of test?” Sam asked, his voice rising. “Am I being pranked? Are you two secretly married? Or, like... I don’t know, are you... trying to get a rise out of me?”

Bucky leaned forward slightly. “No, Sam. We’re just casually enjoying life... together.”

“Together,” Sam repeated, clutching his head dramatically. “I’m going to be sick.”

And then, just to make sure he was completely defeated, you reached over, casually brushing your hand against Bucky’s arm before giving him a tiny, affectionate squeeze.

Sam blinked. His notebook hit the floor with a dramatic thud.

“I knew it.” he gasped, and then, as if the universe had somehow heard him, he heard Natasha’s voice from across the room, still half-asleep:

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous. Just let them enjoy the vibes.”

Sam’s soul left his body.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky exchanged yet another impossibly synchronized glance.

Tony, still grinning, patted Sam on the back. “Don’t worry. One day you’ll look back on this and laugh. Just not today.”

And with that, Sam grabbed his coat, shook his head, and walked out the door.

Meanwhile, Bucky reached over, snagged the last of the fries, and handed them to you. “You think he’s buying it?”

You shrugged. “Nah, I think we’ve got him exactly where we want him.”

Bucky smirked. “Good. Let’s mess with him some more tomorrow.”

The room was quiet now. The chaos had died down. Steve had gone to clean up the kitchen, Tony had retreated to a mysterious project involving lasers, and Natasha was now fully asleep, curled up with a blanket over her face on the armchair.

That left just you and Bucky, still curled on the couch — the battlefield of your dramatic emotional warfare against Sam.

You reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the deck of Uno cards you’d swiped earlier. You looked at Bucky with a mischievous little glint in your eye.

“Wanna play?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “I thought we already emotionally destroyed a man tonight. Isn’t that enough chaos for one evening?”

You started shuffling the deck, your fingers moving deftly. “Just one game. Come on. I promise not to make you cry.”

“Oh, please,” Bucky said, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it at you. “You’re only confident because you’ve been cheating.”

You gasped, mock-offended. “I do not cheat! I win with style.”

“Sure,” Bucky said, lounging comfortably as he took the cards you dealt him. “Style, manipulation, same thing.”

The game started quietly, the soft rustle of cards filling the silence. You both sat cross-legged on the couch, knees bumping occasionally. The warm, low lamp cast a golden hue over everything, and the mood had shifted from chaos to... something soft. Comfortable.

Halfway through the game, you narrowed your eyes. “You’re letting me win.”

Bucky paused mid-draw. “What?”

You pointed at his hand. “You had a +4 and a Reverse like, four rounds ago. You haven’t played either.”

He blinked, all innocent puppy eyes. “What are you talking about? Maybe I just forgot.”

You squinted harder. “James Buchanan Barnes. Do not lie to me.”

He chuckled, then leaned forward, lowering his voice like it was a secret. “Fine. Maybe I’m letting you win a little. You get this cute little proud look when you think you’ve cornered me. It’s adorable.”

Your face flushed, and you tossed your card at him. “That’s cheating in a different way.”

“It’s strategic emotional warfare,” Bucky replied smoothly, grinning as he finally laid down a card. “I’m adapting to modern combat.”

You crossed your arms, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Well, stop it. I want a fair game.”

He nodded solemnly, eyes twinkling. “Understood. No mercy.”

You resumed playing, and this time he was relentless—Reverse, Skip, Draw Two. You shrieked in betrayal as your carefully constructed hand crumbled.

“This is what happens when you ask for a fair game,” Bucky said, laughing.

“I take it back!” you shouted, laughing as you threw your hands up. “Bring back the gentle sabotage!”

Bucky leaned over, gathering the cards again, but this time he didn’t start a new game. He looked at you, expression softening.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter now. “Being here with you… it just makes everything else fade out..”

You tilted your head, suddenly serious. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached over and brushed a piece of lint off your sleeve. “Feels like home. Like peace.”

Your heart melted a little, the kind of soft ache that came when you realized you were exactly where you were supposed to be. You shifted closer, your legs pressed gently against his, and rested your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move for a moment—then his arm wrapped around you, pulling you just a little closer, like muscle memory.

“Uno?” you whispered.

“Only if I get to win this time,” he whispered back.

You smiled into his shoulder. “We’ll see.”

And in the warm, quiet room, surrounded by discarded fries and chaos-shaped memories, the two of you played on.

“Uno,” you announced, placing your second-to-last card down with a triumphant grin.

Bucky stared at you in betrayal. “You said we were being nice this round!”

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. “I was nice. I could’ve skipped you again. You should be thanking me.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Hmm?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence as he picked up a card from the draw pile.

You squinted at him. “Say it again.”

He leaned in, his voice low and smooth like velvet. “You heard me.”

Your heart fluttered. Stupidly. Ridiculously. And yet, you couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across your face. You rolled your eyes and tried to keep your cool, placing your final card down with a flourish.

“Game,” you declared smugly.

Bucky groaned and dropped his hand. “Unbelievable. First you destroy Sam’s psyche, now you destroy my winning streak.”

“I’m on fire tonight,” you said, laughing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes softening as he looked at you. “You really are.”

There was a pause—just long enough to feel like something was shifting again. Not in a chaotic, Sam-spiral kind of way. In the way the air gets thicker when something good is about to happen.

He leaned forward, slow and certain.

You met him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Unhurried. His hand cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing along your skin like he’d been waiting forever for the right moment and wanted to savor it now that it was here. You melted into it, your fingers curling into the sleeve of his henley.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, and you both just... stayed there.

No words. No teasing. Just you and him and the warm hum of everything unspoken.

You yawned a moment later, trying (and failing) to hide it behind your hand.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a tiny kiss to your temple. “Okay, game champ. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” you said, already half-asleep against his shoulder.

“You just yawned into my clavicle.”

“Coincidence,” you mumbled, snuggling closer.

He smiled, shifting so you were tucked more comfortably into his side. He grabbed the discarded throw blanket and wrapped it around both of you.

“You’re staying right here,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You made a sleepy little noise of agreement, already drifting.

And as the last of the game night chaos faded into silence, Bucky pressed one more kiss to your hair, rested his cheek against your head, and held you close.

Neither of you moved for a long, long time.

Hours later, the room was wrapped in a sleepy kind of silence, warm and golden under the dim light.

You and Bucky were curled up on the couch, tangled beneath a blanket, both long since surrendered to sleep. Your head was tucked against his chest, his arm securely around you like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. His metal fingers rested gently against your side, thumb unconsciously tracing small, soothing circles.

It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Almost.

From the armchair in the corner, Natasha Romanoff slowly opened one eye.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just... observed.

Because of course she’d heard everything. The kiss. The whispers. The “you’re lucky you’re cute.” The affectionate laughter. The unmistakable sound of two people falling completely, irrevocably into something more.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at the edge of her mouth.

She watched as Bucky instinctively pulled you closer in his sleep, like even unconscious, he wasn’t letting you drift far. You murmured something incoherent and nuzzled into him, and he murmured something back that sounded suspiciously like your name and definitely like trouble.

Natasha shook her head slightly, amusement flickering across her face.

“You two are the worst,” she whispered to herself, barely audible over the sound of the heater kicking on. “Hopeless.”

But her voice was warm. Fond.

She leaned back into her chair, pulled her blanket tighter around her, and closed her eyes again—smiling like she’d just watched the final twist in a very long-running, extremely satisfying spy mission.

She wasn’t going to tell.

Not yet.

After all, what fun would it be if she ruined the secret when she could just enjoy watching the rest of the team slowly unravel trying to figure it out?

She’d wait.

She could keep a secret.

For now.

next part

taglist: @svtbpbts @cupids-mf-arrow @whitewolfluvr @cece2608 @yehfitoormera @yesiamthatwierd@poodleofstardust @poodleofstardust @homeless-clown @kitasownworld @loversrocktvgirl2 @herejustforbuckybarnes @stormy-stardust @fallen-w1ngs @winchestert101 @f4d3d-st4rs @ultravioletter @xamapolax @theendofthematerialgworl @doilooklikeagiveafrack @fablehaven-rulez @theproblemisthatimnotfictional @winter107soldier@softpia @shakysif @lucyysthings @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach @surebutwhy @tmb510 @kaiari @totallynotabuckybarnessimp @quinquinquincy @tellybearryyyy @roxyym@starstruckfirecat @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @oliviaohanessian1 @arignipanja574 @creat0r-cat @katheriner1999 @kaiari @authoressskr @antisocialfiore @f-1-girlies-blog @ifilwtmfc @darkrock3t @navs-bhat @ravenswritingroom @lunawitchbitchraven @elfypineapple

[ilovolderman]

girl omg i’ve just read movie night and omg i was giggling like crazy the entire time, you can write stories so funny!! 😭😭😭

OMG, I’m so glad you enjoyed it! 😭💖 You literally just made my day with this! Thank you so much, my love <33

[ilovolderman]

Hi,

i just want to say i‘m loving your bucky series! It‘s so funny and pure hearted. It‘s by far the best I’ve read. Could you add me to the tag list please? I can‘t wait to read the next chapter 🫶🏻

Hi!! Sure!! 🥹💖

Thank you so much, that seriously means the world to me! I’m so happy you're enjoying the series, it’s been so much fun to write about these two.

[ilovolderman]

I’m so excited to post the new part of ‘You Said What?’ today

[ilovolderman]

Hi! Just wanted to say I'm loving your Bucky series! It's so fluffy and domestic and everything I've been missing in life. Keep up the good work. I can't wait to read the next part (if you choose to write one, of course)

that's so nice, thank you for stopping by to say that. i'm definitely writing more about these two.

to be honest, i already have everything planned out for how the series will end, but i just love writing their shenanigans so much that, for now, i don't have the heart to write the final part.

[ilovolderman]

Heya!

Can I be added to the tag list for you said what?

hii sweetie, sure!! and thank u for reading it <3

[ilovolderman]

I need you to know that the little series you have going on at the moment with Bucky and reader secretly dating is the best thing I’ve ever read, you are so talented 🫶🏼

this just made me smile so much! thank you so much for reading it and for taking the time to say something so sweet! i really appreciate it <33

[ilovolderman]

hihihi! i love your work lol

i was wondering if you would make a master list?

hi! thank you so much. i actually thought about doing that, but i’m still pretty new here, and aside from the Bucky series, i only have two fics so far. so I think i’ll wait a bit longer before doing it.

but here they are if you want to check them out: fate's design & girlfriend for the weekend

[ilovolderman]

Movie Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to gather proof of your secret relationship with Bucky during a movie night.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, sam losing his mind, one shared blanket

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson was back on his BS.

Not because he wanted to be. No. He had to be. This was about justice. About truth. About the undeniable, unquantifiable, deeply suspicious sense that you and Bucky Barnes were absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent... up to something.

He didn’t have hard evidence. He didn’t even have medium evidence. What he had was vibes.

And the vibes? They were criminal.

It all started on a Wednesday.

The group had planned a “Chill Movie Night.”

Sam arrived early, armed with snacks, a color-coded emotional tracking spreadsheet, and a high-end mood ring that Tony insisted was “useless but fun.”

Everything seemed normal. Steve was fluffing pillows like a dad trying to avoid confrontation. Peter was arguing with the popcorn machine. Natasha was already asleep on the couch. (Open-eyed, somehow. Very concerning.) Tony was making a cocktail out of four liquids that were definitely not FDA-approved.

And then you walked in.

Sam’s eye twitched.

Behind you, Bucky entered. Smirking. Carrying your favorite takeout like some kind of emotionally supportive boyfriend ninja.

“Hey, guys,” you said sweetly, flopping onto the couch. Bucky sat beside you, a respectable distance away.

Until Sam blinked.

And suddenly, somehow, your knees were touching.

EXHIBIT Q. KNEE TREASON.

Sam clutched his soda like it was the last thing anchoring him to reality.

The movie choice? A romcom. Obviously. The plot? Two idiots pretending not to be in love. The irony? Painful.

Sam watched you both. Not the movie. You giggled during the fake-dating scene. Bucky smirked.

Your eyes met for exactly 1.3 seconds. You looked away like your life depended on it.

Sam scribbled in his notes. Tony leaned in, whispering, “Are you actually watching the movie or doing telepathy?”

“I’m watching a conspiracy unfold in real time,” Sam whispered back. “...Of course you are.”

On screen, the protagonists shared a dramatic, rain-soaked kiss. On the couch, Bucky passed you a napkin. You took it without looking. No words. No thank you.

EXHIBIT R. EMPATHETIC NAPKIN TRANSFER.

Sam wrote “co-dependent, probably share a soul.” in his notes.

It got worse. At some point  Peter complained about the cold. Tony threatened to install a fireplace. Someone, probably Steve, bless his Midwestern heart, tossed a blanket over the couch. You grabbed one end. Bucky took the other.

Normal. Harmless. Unremarkable.

Until Sam realized there was only one blanket.

And two people under it.

A suspicious amount of shoulder contact was happening beneath that polyester monstrosity. Too much shared body heat. Too much calm.

Sam squinted. “Why are they always so synchronized?” Steve, confused: “Who?” Sam: “The blanket goblins.” Steve: “...Are you okay?” Sam: “NO.”

The movie played on in the background, but you and Bucky were no longer paying attention. Instead, you two were quietly leaning into each other, aware of Sam's eagle-eyed attention from across the room. The couch creaked as Bucky shifted slightly closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely.

"Do you think Sam's lost it yet?" you whispered, voice low, just enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky grinned, but didn’t look away from the screen. "Oh, he’s spiraling. I can feel his brain cells popping one by one."

You let out a tiny snort, trying to hold back the giggle that was threatening to escape. “He's so obvious. He keeps glancing over every two seconds. Should we give him a little more to work with?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips curling in a barely contained smirk. “You want to really mess with him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should let him stew for a bit longer.” You shot a playful glance at Sam, who was practically glaring at you two from behind his soda. "He’s getting all worked up for nothing."

Bucky leaned in a little closer, his breath warm on your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make him regret not having a seat next to us.”

He shifted slightly, just enough that your knees brushed against each other. The small touch seemed so innocent to anyone else, but Sam’s narrowed eyes locked onto the subtle movement, his hand hovering over his notebook like a hawk waiting to strike.

Your lips quirked into a mischievous smile. You did your best to make it look like a completely natural movement as you accidentally rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky, of course, played along beautifully, his arm casually draping over the back of the couch behind you, so close that your bodies were practically melting into each other.

“You okay?” he asked in the most nonchalant tone, but the teasing glint in his eyes was hard to miss.

You blinked, putting on your best innocent face. “Oh, yeah. Just—just—getting comfy.” Your hand brushed against his as you adjusted yourself, and you quickly squeezed his fingers once before letting them fall.

Your eyes flicked over to Sam, who was visibly straining to stay calm, his hand twitching over his notebook like it was a lifeline. You could practically hear his thoughts racing: This is it. This is definitely it. They're in on it.

You smiled sweetly, letting your voice drop to an exaggerated whisper. “I think I might be too comfortable.”

Bucky’s smirk widened, and before Sam could even react, he casually pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and gently brushed his fingertips against your knee. The slightest contact. Barely a touch.

Sam’s eyes narrowed so sharply that it looked like his face might implode. He scribbled something aggressively in his notebook. You could almost hear the frantic ticking of his mental clock. *Evidence: They are physically close. Touch. Note: Is this normal?

You stifled a laugh, shifting just a little to let your body lean more into Bucky. “You know,” you said, voice syrupy sweet, “I could really get used to this.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, shifting just enough that his shoulder brushed against yours, and his hand accidentally found its way to your lower back. “Well, lucky for you,” he said with mock sincerity, “I’m just that kind of guy. Always happy to offer some… support.”

You grinned, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Instead, you pressed your palm into his chest, just enough for the world to think it was a casual adjustment. But oh, you knew. You knew what was happening.

Sam was now glaring at you both with a level of intensity that could melt steel.

Bucky turned his head toward you, but just enough so Sam could definitely see. He made eye contact, and his lips curved into a teasing grin, one that said, I know you’re watching.

You raised your eyebrows in challenge and tilted your head as if asking, What are you going to do about it, Sam?

You caught a glimpse of his expression, then leaned closer to Bucky. “I swear he’s about to pull out a flowchart,” you whispered, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Let him. He’ll need it for all this groundbreaking evidence.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

You and Bucky both leaned back, relaxing into each other, casually oblivious to the total chaos you were unleashing. Sam sat back down, utterly defeated, furiously scribbling in his notebook. He couldn’t even look at the screen anymore.

Then, the movie ended. The lights came on. You yawned. Bucky stretched.

And Sam watched in horror as Bucky casually — casually! — helped you into your jacket like it was 1952 and you were going steady after a sock hop.

You whispered something to him. He grinned. Then you both said you were leaving at the same time, but separately.

Bucky went out the back. You left through the front.

Sam looked at Natasha.

“Did you see that?” She didn’t even open her eyes. “Nope.” “Lies.” “You need a nap.” “I need the TRUTH.”

Tony sipped his weird drink. “I give it another week before they start sharing shoes.”

Peter, from the kitchen: “Wait, do they not already?”

Sam screamed into the void.

Later that night the rooftop was quiet, blanketed in the soft hush of city sounds far below. A gentle breeze tugged at the edge of the blanket draped over your shoulders as you curled into your usual corner, legs tucked beneath you. Fairy lights flickered lazily overhead, casting warm glows over Bucky’s face as he joined you with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

He handed one “Cheers to another successful psychological operation,” you said, clinking the mugs.

“To Operation: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlfriend,” Bucky replied solemnly, taking a sip. He immediately burned his tongue and winced.

You giggled, taking a much more careful sip. “You know Sam’s going to start cross-referencing our foot placement on the couch with moon phases, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Bucky said. “I bet he’s already got a red string board with little thumbtacks that spell ‘LIES.’”

You leaned into him with a contented sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. “We are going to hell.”

“Matching outfits,” he said. “I already ordered the shirts.”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your drink. “Bucky.”

He just smiled, wide and soft and unguarded in the dim rooftop light, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side like you belonged there—and honestly, you did.

A beat of silence passed. The kind that wasn’t awkward. The kind that felt like a warm exhale, like a secret just between the two of you.

You smiled into your mug, letting the words settle. The city shimmered below you. The stars above blinked like they were in on the secret too.

“I like it up here,” you murmured.

“I like you up here,” Bucky replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, right at your temple, like he was memorizing the shape of your joy.

You turned your face toward him, bumping noses a little in that silly, clumsy way that always made him smile. “You’re being very sweet. Should I be worried?”

He shrugged. “Just making sure you know.”

“That you like me?”

“That I’m crazy about you,” he said, and then, quieter: “Even when you’re fake flirting with me to drive Sam to madness.”

You grinned. “Oh, babe. That’s not fake.”

Bucky blinked, then broke into a grin so dopey and full of love it made your chest ache.

You clinked your mugs together again, just because.

Meanwhile Sam was crouched on the roof of a building, squinting through a comically long-lensed pair of binoculars that Tony swore were “state-of-the-art.”

They were not.

They were the opposite of helpful.

They had a cracked lens, fog on the inside, and occasionally made a sad whining sound like they missed retirement.

Still, Sam stared across the distance with the desperate determination of a man on the brink.

Through the foggy lens, he saw… two tiny blobs.

Two indistinct, cozy-looking blobs huddled on the rooftop of Avengers Tower, gently illuminated by twinkle lights that only added insult to injury.

He couldn’t see their faces. He couldn’t read lips. He couldn’t tell which blob was Bucky and which was you.

“Come on, do something,” Sam muttered, adjusting the focus knob. Nothing changed. He flipped it the other way. The blobs got blurrier.

He smacked the side of the binoculars.

They shut off.

He swore loudly and rebooted them.

Inside his earpiece, FRIDAY chimed in, unbothered: “Would you like me to send a drone for closer surveillance?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “No. That’s what they want. Then they’ll know I’m watching.”

“They already know you’re watching.”

“I have to catch them, FRIDAY. Not just feel it in my soul.”

Another blob shifted.

Sam gasped. “Movement. MOVEMENT.” He turned the dial again. Still nothing but murky shadow-people. “Are they... hugging? Is that a hug? Or... is one of them standing up? Oh my god, is Bucky proposing?!”

A long pause. Then, FRIDAY dryly: “Sir. They are literally just drinking cocoa.”

Sam groaned and flopped backward onto the gravel roof, his limbs starfished dramatically like a war hero brought low by cuddle-based crimes.

“This is torture,” he moaned. ��I’m three buildings away, I’ve got frostbite on my kneecaps, and I’m watching two potato blobs make suspiciously synchronized cocoa movements.”

“Shall I remind you,” FRIDAY said gently, “that you volunteered for this?”

“I VOLUNTEERED FOR TRUTH. AND JUSTICE. AND—” Sam sat up suddenly. “Wait. Are they... did that blob just touch the other blob’s blob-arm?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Oh god,” he whispered. “They’re holding hands. I feel it.”

“Or one of them is adjusting a blanket.”

Sam made a noise like a teakettle dying. “It’s the vibes, FRIDAY. I am being spiritually attacked.”

A car honked below. Sam yelped and dropped the binoculars. They hit the ground, bounced once, and rolled off the edge of the building with a dramatic clatter that absolutely ruined the "stealth" part of the mission.

Sam stared at the edge.

Then at the sky.

Then at his empty hands.

“FRIDAY, I’ve lost visual.”

There was a beat.

“Sir, you never had it.”

Back at Avengers Tower, on the actual rooftop you snuggled closer to Bucky, sipping your hot chocolate, utterly unaware of the storm raging in a man's soul several rooftops away.

Actually, no—you were very aware.

You nudged Bucky. “Wanna bet where Sam is right now trying to spy on us?”

Bucky grinned. “Roof of that tall brick building with the busted vent.”

You blinked. “How do you know?”

“I waved at him like ten minutes ago.”

next part

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