authors note: this was supposed to be shorter oops 𼚠anyways new blog bc it might help with my writers block fingers crossed
(also sorry if this is poorly written, i havenât finished a fic in idk how long im trying to get back into it đĽ˛)
this cannot be happening.
you were just trying to sleep in peace in your hotel room, feeling clean and cozy under the bedsheets after your shower.
your headphones were on, turned up to a volume slightly louder than it should be while you doomscrolled on your phone until your eyes felt heavy.
and right as they were about to close, phone slipping away from your slacked hand, you see it.
a huge spider crawling up the wall into your direction.
you hop out of the bed immediately, feeling the kind of fear that is only experienced silently.
you shake your head, grabbing your phone and a key card, walking out of the room, letting the eight-legged demon take your $325 a night hotel room.
thereâs absolutely no way your going back in there without a hazmat suit and 100 pounds of heavy duty bug spray. but definitely you donât have that.
walking down the hallway, though, is the next best thing.
the fine man staying next door to you.
jaafar jackson.
you knew who he was, given that you were a huge michael jackson fan. but you tried to stay calm the first time you saw him while checking in so you didnât come off as a crazy fan, and smiled at him.
he smiled back.
here that same person comes, strolling down the hallway and offering you a small wave and the same smile from before.
the perfect savior.
âhey, there, stranger!â great start. now you sound creepy. it works, though, because he slows to a stop a few feet away from you
you explain your situation, dramatizing it slightly more than it should be, but it gets the job done. you also offer him food as a payment. the cherry on top.
it works, though, because he nods and walks to your door.
âsure. did you wanna help me or..â
ânope! i believe in you, stranger.â you quickly say, profusely shaking your head and holding out the key card for him.
âalright then, stranger.â
he huffs a laugh and takes the keycard from your hand, tapping it onto the lock and heading inside your room.
youâre not waiting for that long when he finally comes out, a slight pinch of his brows paired with darting eyes.
âwhat? why do you look scared now?â
âi didnât see a spider in there.â
oh hell no. what if itâs in your stuff now? what if it started laying eggs in all of your underwear? so much for knight in shining armor-
âiâm kidding. i got it.â he says, the corner of his mouth pulling into a charming grin as he walks to his room.
âyou- that was not funny.â
âiâm sorry, iâm sorry. i couldnât help myself.â
heâs chuckling at this point, half at his own joke, but mostly at your reaction. you watch him laugh, scoffing and taking the keycard back from him.
pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader (domestic au)
warnings: fluff!!!
summary: moving is hard, but teasing bucky about his knees and getting kissed breathless on the floor makes it all worth it.
word count: 1.2k
author's note: hi loves! its been a very long day, but here i am with another fic based on this request đ love ya guys and stay safe out there â¤ď¸
The box labeled KITCHEN â VERY FRAGILE!! teetered dangerously in Buckyâs arms.
âYou know,â you said from across the room, one hand on your hip and the other holding your phone like a clipboard, âI did say we could hire movers.â
He narrowed his eyes at you over the top of the box.
âIâm fine.â
âYou sure?â you teased. âYouâve been sighing like a victorian widow for the last twenty minutes. Pretty sure I just heard you say âmy kneesâ when you bent down.â
âThat was one time,â Bucky muttered, gingerly setting the box down on the countertop and flexing his vibranium fingers. âAnd it was the heaviest box in here.â
âIt was dish towels.â
âYeah, well, you roll them up weird, sweetheartâ
You grinned, watching as he straightened up with a dramatic grunt â the kind of exaggerated groan that only made him sound older than he already pretended not to be.
His Henley clung to his back in damp patchesânot gross, just unfairâthe kind of warm, sleepy domestic sweat that made your stomach flutter.
You could see the shift of muscle underneath, the way his shoulder blades flexed with every movement, broad back tapering into a trim waist in those worn-in jeans you were starting to think should be illegal.
Strong arms, one flesh and one vibranium, worked in quiet rhythm as he movedâsolid, capable, and completely oblivious to the fact that he looked like the poster boy for âhot guy helping you move.â
âYou good, grandpa?â
He shot you a look that was all bark and no bite. âWatch it.â
âOh no,â you said, wiggling your fingers playfully in the air, âam I provoking the super soldier? Is he gonna get all big and scary because I teased his joints?â
Bucky stalked toward you with exaggerated menace, footsteps slow and heavy like a cartoon villain. âYouâre gonna be real sad when I let you carry the mattress up yourself.â
You laughed, backing away with the same deliberate slowness. âI knew youâd crack eventually. Maybe we should call some actual movers.â
He caught you before you could duck behind the couch, arms wrapping securely around your waist like you were the most precious thing in the roomâwhich, to him, you were.
You squealed, high-pitched and delighted, legs kicking in the air as he spun you once and then dropped you gently into the mountain of blankets on the floor that used to be your bed.
âTake it back,â he said, hovering over you, smirking like he already knew you wouldnât.
âNo.â
He raised a brow.
âNot unless you admit you said âowâ picking up a box of tupperware.â
âThat tupperware was packed dense,â he said, nudging your nose with his. âYou put the pyrex in with the lids, didnât you?â
âObviously. Iâm not a monster.â
âYou are a menace.â
âYouâre in denial about your age.â
Bucky laughed, low and warm in his chestâthe kind of sound that made your heart ache in the best wayâand kissed you mid-giggle, his mouth brushing yours like it was the only thing that mattered.
The kiss was sweet and lazy, the kind of thing you could sink into and stay in forever. His hands were warm against your waist, steady. He smelled like fresh soap and worn cotton, and you felt completely and stupidly in love.
âYouâre real mouthy for someone who hasnât lifted a single book box,â he murmured, lips brushing yours.
You gasped, all mock scandal. âExcuse me, Iâve been organising! And labelling! And supervising!"
âSupervising, huh?â
âYeah. Making sure you donât, I dunno, break a hip.â
He lunged again and you shrieked, scrambling away on all fours. He chased after you with no shame at all, laughing as he snatched at your ankle, dragging you back into his arms while you both dissolved into helpless giggles.
You ended up tangled together in a pile of pillows and limbs, cheeks flushed and smiles wide. He tugged you close and kissed your forehead, your nose, your cheekâlike he couldnât get enough of touching you, even in the middle of a chaotic mess of moving boxes.
âWe are never going through this again,â Bucky declared, arm flung over his eyes.
âYou said that last time.â
âBecause I meant it.â
âAnd yet here we are.â
There was a pause.
âI did it for you, you know,â he said softly, peeking at you from beneath his arm, cerulean eyes soft in a way that always made your breath catch.
âWhat, moved into a shoebox with peeling cabinets and suspicious light switches?â
He rolled onto his side and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. âMoved into a shoebox with you.â
Your heart squeezed. The air shiftedâa little quieter, a little heavier with the kind of affection that lived in the small, quiet moments. He always slipped it in like that. Like love was a throwaway comment. Like it wasnât everything.
You reached over and smoothed a piece of lint off his chest. âI like it. Even if the sink screams when you turn on the hot water.â
âItâs got good bones,â he said, imitating the landlord.
âTerrible windows.â
âCharming character.â
âA light switch that sparks.â
âA fire hazard,â he grinned.
You leaned in and kissed his cheek. âI love our little fire hazard.â
He hummed and pulled you closer, hand spreading over your back, holding you like he didnât want you to leaveâlike he never would. You let yourself melt against him, your nose tucked into the curve of his neck, his fingers stroking gentle circles at your waist.
The floor was stiff and the apartment was still half-unpacked, but none of that mattered. Not when his thumb brushed over the hem of your shirt. Not when the light from the crooked blinds painted your skin gold and dust floated in lazy spirals around you like a snow globe.
âYou know,â he said after a long beat, ânext time, I am hiring movers.â
âOh? So you are admitting youâre not strong enough.â
He made a soft noise of protest, shifting until your noses touched. âNo. Iâm saying I wanna save my strength for better things.â
âLike what?â
He kissed the top of your head, voice low. âLike carrying you to bed.â
You smiled against his shirt. âSmooth.â
âI try.â
There was a pause.
ââŚDo you remember which box the coffee makerâs in?â
âTop of the stack in the kitchen. Behind the one labeled Definitely Not Just Snacks.â
âYouâre amazing.â
You sat up together, both groaning in unison like the prematurely elderly couple you were proudly becoming. Bucky stood first and offered you a hand, which you tookâmostly to watch the way his arm flexed, which he definitely noticed.
âStill strong,â he said smugly.
You patted his chest. âSure you are, babe.â
He narrowed his eyes, and you took off, barefoot, laughing as he chased you around the room again like you were kids playing tag in your first home.
Later That Night
You were both completely wiped. The mattress was on the floor, the sheets a mismatched pair of cozy old cotton sets, soft, worn, and comforting.
Bucky walked out of the bathroom in grey sweats and a black tank top, towel slung over his shoulder, hair damp and curling just slightly at the ends.
He caught you staring.
âWhat?â
âNothing,â you said sweetly. âJust thinking about how strong you looked carrying that lamp earlier.â
He snorted and dropped the towel on your head.
âHey!â
âI am strong, for the record.â
âOh, I know,â you said, pulling the towel down and tugging him in by the waistband of his sweats. âStrong enough to lift a box of pyrex and my entire heart.â
He rolled his eyes but couldnât hide the smile. âThat was worse than your 'supervising' joke.â
âShut up and kiss me, grandpa.â
He didâslow and sleepy, like he had all the time in the world. Like he didnât mind that you were both surrounded by chaos, by boxes and dust and a half-eaten bag of trail mix somewhere under the dresser.
Somewhere in the background, a box labeled LIVING ROOM STUFF PROBABLY?? fell over with a soft thud.
