Summary: Bucky Barnes, the ever-patient yet exasperated boyfriend, spends a day rescuing and watching you, his overly dramatic and hilariously clueless partner who manages to get into various self-made disasters. (Bucky Barnes x dramatic!reader)
Word Count: 800+
Main Masterlist
It was a quiet Thursday morning, the kind of morning Bucky Barnes cherished. The sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains of his Brooklyn apartment, the air smelled faintly of freshly brewed coffee, and for once, there were no explosions, supervillains, or interdimensional shenanigans to deal with.
At least, that’s what he thought.
“BUCKY! HELP! I’M DYING!”
Bucky sighed. The tranquility was nice while it lasted.
He set his coffee mug down on the counter and trudged toward the source of the commotion: you, his overly dramatic, slightly ridiculous, and completely endearing partner. You were in the kitchen, standing on a chair, flailing dramatically, as though you were auditioning for some community theater production.
“You’re not dying,” Bucky deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His metal arm glinted in the sunlight, and his expression could only be described as a mix of long-suffering patience and mild amusement. “What is it this time?”
You pointed accusingly at the floor. “There’s a spider!”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’ve fought Hydra agents, outrun aliens, and once punched a robot in the face. But a spider? That’s your kryptonite?”
“This is different!” You insisted, clutching your chest like you were seconds away from fainting. “It’s got, like… eight legs! And eyes! And it’s looking at me.”
Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “All spiders have eight legs and eyes. That’s kind of their thing.”
“This one is plotting my demise, Buck! I can feel it!”
He sighed again, the sound of a man who had endured too much nonsense in his lifetime but had resigned himself to his fate. Grabbing a tissue, he approached the spider in question. It was a tiny, harmless thing that honestly looked more scared of you than you were of it. In one swift motion, he scooped it up and released it out the window.
“There. Crisis averted,” He said, turning back to you with a smirk. “You’re safe. The big bad spider’s gone.”
You stepped off the chair, looking sheepish but still clutching your chest like a Victorian damsel in distress. “Thank you, my brave knight. You’ve saved me once again.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”
But your drama was far from over. “You don’t understand, Bucky! That spider was the size of a small dog! It had murder in its eyes! I could practically hear it sharpening its little spider knives!”
“Spider knives? Really?” He asked, grabbing his coffee and taking a long, slow sip. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
You gasped, clutching your chest again as if his words had physically wounded you. “Lucky?! I’ll have you know I’m the whole package! Looks, charm, wit–”
“Dumbassery,” Bucky added under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” He answered, smirking behind his coffee mug.
But the day wasn’t over yet. Oh no, not with you around. A normal person would’ve taken a spider incident as a sign to relax and maybe read a book. Not you. By the time lunch rolled around, you had somehow:
Tried to bake cookies, resulting in a flour explosion that made the kitchen look like a winter wonderland.
Got your shoelaces stuck in the dishwasher (he still didn’t understand how that was possible).
And attempted to fix a squeaky cabinet door with olive oil in a spray bottle, only to accidentally get it all over yourself and the cat that had wandered in from the neighbor’s apartment. (Bucky still wasn’t sure why the cat liked you so much, it was probably your shared chaotic energy.)
By the time evening rolled around, Bucky was sitting on the couch, rubbing his temples, while you bounced next to him, recounting your many near-death experiences that day.
“And then the cat looked at me like it wanted revenge! I think it’s in cahoots with the spider. We might be dealing with a full-blown animal uprising!”
He turned his head to look at you, his blue eyes filled with the kind of exhaustion that only came from dealing with you for an entire day. But there was something else there to; a softness, a fondness he couldn’t quite hide.
“Y’know,” He said, his voice low and steady, “Most people would’ve given up on you by now.”
“Most people don’t have a vibranium arm and 100 years of patience,” You quipped, grinning at him.
He smirked. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Lucky?!” You gasped again in mock indignation, reminding him firmly. “I’m a blessing, Barnes. A gift. You should be thanking your lucky stars every day that I– oh no, Bucky, the cat’s back! And it brought a squirrel!”
Bucky groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “I need a drink.”
And so, Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, the man who had survived wars, Hydra, and Steve Rogers' stubbornness, found himself in the greatest battle of all: surviving life with you, the human embodiment of dumb chaos.
can you write a lil smt about any eddies that you write about calling the reader honey 😣
ps thank youuuuu for these amazing fics that you write!! they are so good. 🖤🖤🖤
imagine dramatic!crybaby!spoiled!reader with maybe obsessed!eddie. everytime he accidentally makes you cry, like by teasing you or if you don't get your way, he's always like, "oh, honey..c'mere.." and tries to bring you in for a kiss but you'll just pout and try to walk away.
eventually, you give in, letting him pull you into a hug and kiss as you sniffle.
he's just petting the back of your head as you scold him like, "such a meanie!" and he's all, "i know, honey, i know."
the moral of the story is that you always get your way with eddie because he LIVES to give you what you want. and if he teases you, he always gives you little kisses to make up for it, pampering and worshipping you more than usual <333
