fluffy character x reader drabbles to read when you're sad

in which the 106 year old metal armed man takes care of you

Guess who got Covid this week? Yeah, it was me.... Which is exactly why I wrote this.

Roommate!Bucky was this lovely trend on tumblr a while ago and by all means I think that trend needs to keep going.

•

How you ended up becoming roommates with the 106 year old man formerly known as the Winter Solider, you were unsure. But, to be perfectly honest, you weren't exactly mad about it.

Especially not when he came home from his very early morning runs all hot and sweaty. Especially not when he scared off the weirdos who lived in your building. When he had this... thing about him that just made you feel safe.

Or even when he came back from visiting Sam Wilson and his family and still had that lingering smile on his face.

The man didn't smile very often.

You'd take as much as you could get.

But today, rather than being happy to have Bucky Barnes as your roommate, a man who could have willingly lived alone if he really wanted to, instead, you were quite grateful.

It wasn't that you really expected Bucky to be a... caring sort of roommate, but all things considering, after you woke up in the middle of the night, your body feeling like it was on fire while you shivered relentlessly, only to accidentally wake Bucky up with your attempts to get the ibuprofen down from the medicine cabinet, you definitely didn't expect this level of... attentiveness.

But, dear god, were you happy for it.

Or at least as happy as you could be while sweating through your clothes and your blankets and unable to move due to just how sore and tired your body was, and due to how much your head was hurting.

"Doll, come on. I know you just want to sleep, but you gotta eat some time today."

You groaned into your pillow, unwilling to try and roll over to face the man standing next to your bed, "'M not hungry." you mumbled.

You felt the bed shift and dip next to your body, and suddenly Bucky didn't need to offer a verbal argument in return, just him being there, his usual imposing form gently sitting next to yours, was enough to know that he would win either way. That no matter what you said, or what he said, you would still do as he asked in the end.

You always would.

Groaning, you finally bit the bullet and pulled the covers down, away from your face, and rolled over to meet Bucky's stare. You could see the almost imperceptible purse of his lips and the lines between his furrowed brows indicating his concern for you.

Shuffling awkwardly and uselessly, you sat yourself up just enough so that you wouldn't choke on your food. It was then that you noticed what was on the plate Bucky had balanced in his lap.

Two pieces of buttered toast and a banana. Something easy for your stomach.

"So you don't barf up your medicine later." Bucky explained, teasingly, as he handed over the plate, setting it on top of your blankets.

Snorting, you rolled your eyes playfully before giving him a smile, "Thanks."

"Anytime, Doll." That barely there frown briefly morphed into a small smile in return.

However, rather than getting up to leave, Bucky remained seated on the edge of your bed, watching as you pulled your arms out from under your blankets and began peeling the banana. It was only when you started pulling it into pieces, and placing the butchered slices of your banana on top of your toast, that Bucky stepped in.

"Here, let me do that."

Letting out a breath, you deflated against your pillow and watched and Bucky finished preparing your food as you had previously intended. And when he was finished, when his blue eyes met yours, you had a hard time keeping a smile from spreading across your flushed cheeks.

"You don't have to do this, ya know." You said.

"Well, to be honest, I learned a while ago that you're the only person crazy enough to live with me. So I figured I should at least be nice to you when you're sick." Bucky joked, "Or who knows, you might try and kick me out any day now."

Letting out a small laugh, your smile widened for a short moment before it fell, and you were letting out a groan. The pounding in your head had returned in full force letting you know it was time for you to take two more pills.

Bucky offered a sympathetic wince, but before you could do anything he was standing up, "You got enough meds in here? Or do I need to go get you more?" He looked as if he was about to leave the room, to rush towards the medicine cabinet in the bathroom so he could grab you whatever you needed.

But you didn't exactly want him to go.

Reaching out a hand you snagged your fingers on the fabric of his shirt sleeve, "I'm fine, Bucky. I have everything I need in here. Just stay. Please."

Bucky hesitated, his furrowed brow and pursed lips returning as he glanced over you, briefly.

But then, after a moment, "Alright."

It was only after you let go of his shirt sleeve and your smile returned that Bucky was moving around to the other side of your bed and settling himself on top of the sheets, the length of his body pressing in next to yours as he flung an arm across the top of your pillow so you could tuck your head into his shoulder.

"Now eat." He demanded.

Shuffling even closer, careful not to spill your plate, you tugged teasingly at his shirt, before tracing a hand down to pull at one of the belt loops on his jeans, "You sure you don't want under the covers with me?"

A hand suddenly came up to press against your forehead, surprising you with just how cool Bucky's skin felt against yours, "Doll, your skin feels like its on fire. I'm not in the mood to sweat all afternoon."

You let out a noncommittal noise, "Your choice." You said, shrugging a shoulder before finally tucking into your toast and banana.

Bucky scoffed, but nonetheless his body curled around yours and he stayed with you while you slowly ate your food.

It was only after you were finished, and after you'd taken another dose of meds that you finally drifted off back into your medicine and sickness induced coma. Your body remained curled into Bucky's as he stroked a hand down your back and eventually dozed off as well with his cheek resting against the top of your head.

And when you woke up, however many hours later, with Bucky still next to you and not a single complaint from him in return, you came to the conclusion that maybe living with a 106 year old man who had a metal arm had a few more advantages beyond scaring off the creeps who tried to follow you home from the subway.

•