Bawcock
Summary: A glimpse into the domestic/semi-retired life of Bucky Barnes where there’s no such thing as too much sass or love.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Some swear words; mentions of blood and gore; little bit steamy towards the end
A/N: Here is is! After over a year and four months of nothing new, here we go. Thank you to everyone who has stuck around! A special thanks goes out to @thinkwritexpress-official for all her help in making sure this wasn’t a mess and beta-ing for me. Another huge thank you to @mermaidxatxheart for supporting me through all the ups and downs of this and convincing me not to throw myself or my computer in a dumpster and set it on fire. Anywho, please enjoy! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated!!!
Masterlist
It was one of those quiet days that Y/N treasured.
All that was left to do was to wait for Bucky’s return.
That, and to settle into Bucky’s worn leather armchair that they found at a consignment shop, grab her new book by her favorite philosophical author, and engross herself in the thoughts of another.
It had been over a week since he had left with AmericanAirline, otherwise known as Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, on a mission to some undisclosed place.
Having the house to herself had been nice. It gave her time to pamper herself a bit and also to have some much needed girl time with Wanda.
However, if her fiance was going to be any longer, she would have to go ahead and get started on their ‘dream’ garden. They had to get their seeds sown before it was too late in the season. Bucky, nonetheless, was adamant before he left that she wasn’t to so much as touch one weed because this was their garden. And he would be damned if he wasn’t there to partake in the fun.
Y/N was just waiting for the day for him to ask to get a goat. Not that she would begrudge him one. Her only secret condition would be that they had to name him after one of the Avengers. She would never admit it out loud, but she wanted a whole tribe of them. They had more than enough property and they were a highlight of their time in Wakanda.
Unfortunately, the Three Musketeers were on complete radio silence, meaning that there was no way of knowing where they were at, if they were successful, or when they were due to return. If they came home.
‘No!’ she mentally chastised herself, wanting to squish that bit of anxiety that tried to creep through the peace. ‘Everything will be fine.’
She had the utmost faith in the Winter Soldier’s capabilities. He would be fine and home soon. Back in her arms. Safe.
She just had to keep telling herself that.
.... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢.
It wasn’t until the sun had sunk below the tree line that she heard the opening and closing of the front door.
“Bucky?” she called out, setting her book to the side. She reached her arms up and curved her back, releasing the tension that had built in her from remaining stationary for so long.
The man stuck his head around the corner and gave her a wide smile… but something was off. “Hey, darling,” Bucky’s husky voice greeted, causing a familiar shiver to go down her spine.
Y/N didn’t waste any more time, tossing the book on the coffee table and scrambling out of the nest of blankets she had collected over the hours to scurry over to where he stood in all of his Super Soldier glory.
Her eyes widened in shock. “Holy fuck, Buck. Did you slaughter a pig and bathe in its blood before coming home?” Still dressed in his black stealth gear and equipped in his many, many knives, he was also covered in bits and pieces of coagulated blood and… was that brain matter?
He offered a sheepish smile in return. “Code red, babe.”
“Hm,” Y/N hummed with pursed lips. “I can see that.”
Towards the beginning of their relationship, they came up with a code to let each other know how bad things were mentally or physically upon arrival at home so the other could help where needed.
Sometimes… Sometimes the missions would leave more than just a physical scar, resulting in restless nights full of nightmares, panic attacks and bouts of anger, but it wasn’t something he would let anyone outside of his house see, not even Steve. She was his safe place and he thanked whatever higher power out there everyday to have someone like her in his life. Sometimes he had thoughts that he wasn’t worth anything, but Y/N was right there, reassuring him that everyone had a purpose in life and without him, the world would be a very different place. Plus, if he was out of the picture, what would be left of her? She’d probably be in some institution herself.
Together, they kept each other sane.
Their codes were based on the stoplight system.
Code red was pretty easy to guess, but in spite of the code, Bucky was still in his ‘everything-is-completely-fine’ persona. She wouldn’t see the mental wounds until later that night.
Thankfully for the carpet, the ex-Winter Soldier kept his distance, remaining on the tiled flooring of the entryway. They had a rule that no blood was to make it on the carpet, period. If that happened, Y/N would go into a cleaning frenzy until she was certain that everything was back to its original condition. Though the rule carried on from the Compound, this was their first home after all and they would be damned if - for any reason other than godly interference (with the explicit exception of those of Asgardian form) - the house would remain in top-notch condition.
Together, they had built this home after Thanos and his army was decimated once and for all. They both kept working for a while, doing odd free-lance work here and there, trying to make the world a better place and all. But as soon as the house was completed, a decision had been made to go into retirement...or at least, semi-retirement. It was time to let the younger people take over. Of course, with her, Bucky always felt like he was in the prime of his life. Despite being well over a hundred years old, she kept him young… and in good shape.
He smiled at the thought, hoping that good times were but a shower away. Or maybe good times in the shower? Hm, the possibilities.
Y/N was oblivious to where his thoughts had gone, worried within her own thoughts, but kept a cool exterior. “Now, question. Just right off the bat. Totally random.” She let her eyes sweep over his gore-covered form. “Is that all just one person’s insides, or multiple persons?” Then she sniffed and made an exaggerated look of disgust. “And when on earth was the last time you showered?” Still, she decided his cheek looked relatively clear of body fluids and went up on her tippy-toes to press a quick kiss to it before stepping back and further assessing her partner with a soft shake of her head. “But seriously, you stink.”
“And yet, you still kissed me,” he gloated, managing to keep his hands to himself, not wanting to dirty her favorite sweater (though they both knew her favorite was one of his; he just wasn’t allowed to bring it up). “Albeit, I wish it was more than just a peck on my cheek, but eh, I’ll take what I can get.” He paused. “For now.” Then he gave Y/N another cheeky smile before heading to the bathroom dubbed the ‘Taint to Daint Area’. Bucky proudly thought of it himself.
Watching his retreating form, or rather, his retreating ass, Y/N shook her head in disbelief at his antics and quietly asked herself, “Why are you like this?” knowing full well that she wouldn’t have him any other way.
Bucky smirked at her over his shoulder as he entered the large bathroom and began to remove his many, many knives, dropping them into the sink to be cleaned properly later.“ Depends on what you mean, dollface. Do you mean the irrevocable handsomeness that is moi, the disturbing amounts of coagulated blood on me, or the always exciting vexatious PTSD?”
Peals of laughter erupted from Y/N as she entered the room after him, stopping to lean a shoulder against the doorway that carried the faint scent of lacquer. “Ha ha, smart ass. But no.” She crossed her arms and nodded towards his lower half. “I was actually referring to your shoes.”
Keep in mind that approximately 89.7% of the time, Sergeant Barnes would wear his “trustworthy” combat boots. Didn’t matter the occasion. Mission. Stark Parties. Vacationing through the Caymans. Cruise trip that turned into a near bioterrorist attack. He always stood firm on the fact that he had to make sure he was always prepared to kick ass anytime, anywhere, and he wasn’t going to do so in “fucking sneakers.” Mr. Always-Prepared would then make it abundantly clear to everyone “that it wasn’t because he couldn’t do it in sneakers. It just looked cooler with his kickass boots.”
So imagine Y/N’s surprise when the Winter Soldier came home still in all his gear… but with the great exception of the highlighter-yellow Crocs on his feet. And, to top it off? Inside the offensive shoes were shockingly white tube socks instead of his usual black worn in all other instances.
Both were clearly new as they were the only part of his ensemble that remained spared from the obvious bloodbath.
His pale blue eyes flickered down as if having forgotten what he was wearing. He nodded to himself then turned to Y/N and shrugged without a care in the world, moving to disassemble the buckles on his vest. “They’re surprisingly functional,” he answered simply.
As if that explained anything.
Y/N moved to grab the plastic tote kept under the sink for such disrobing instances. It kept the rest of the house safe from a variety of bodily fluids until the offending clothes made way to the laundry room… or if bad enough, the burn pile a quarter-mile deep in the woods.
“Right,” she articulated speculatively. “As opposed to the boots you swear will go to the grave with you?”
Bucky dropped the dark vest into the tote, leaving him in a damp black tank top before moving to disassemble his thigh harness.
Y/N once again had to restrain herself from where her thoughts led.
“Fewer laces to undo to get me down to my knickers,” he snickered at her, knowing exactly where her thoughts had drifted to.
She had to force herself not to blush. “You’re avoiding the topic.”
With an exaggerated sigh from him, she knew she was in for a story. Bucky dropped the harness to the ground and took a seat on the ledge of the bath, turning his undivided attention to his wonderful and naughty fiance. “Well, to start, I put part of the blame on you.”
Y/N gasped loudly. “Me?”, she asked incredulously, pressing a hand to her chest as it was one of the most ridiculous things she had ever heard. “How?”
Bucky nodded his head with a solemn expression, looking down at his brightly covered feet. “Yes, you,” he affirmed. “Let’s see. It all started after the bloodbath of a lifetime and I was covered head to toe in various body parts and goo and shit. Then I realized we had to travel 12 clicks back to base camp… and my shoes were squishy and just gross.”
The skeptical woman looked up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to this craziness before refocusing her attention on her clearly delusional man. “As if ‘gross’ boots have ever stopped you before,” she pointed out. “‘I’m a hard man that served my country. Even almost got trench foot. I like to bathe in the blood of my enemies.’ Blah blah blah,” she mimicked in a gruff voice, trying to do her best impression of Bucky.
Bucky scowled at her in response. “I do not sound like that.”
Y/N shrugged, “Mm, sure you don’t. Still fail to see how any part of your footwear preferences is my fault.”
The Super Soldier pouted at her for a moment before realizing she wasn’t going to let up on the subject. With another hearty sigh, he continued. “You’re part in this is that you now have me accustomed to a life of luxury and comfort. I used to be a total badass. And I did have trench foot, thank you very much. But now? The thought of having to walk miles to base from the mission point in… well, I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that there was no way in hell that was going to happen. Just plain gross.”
“Gross,” she echoed flatly, trying to decide if he was punking her or if he was being serious.
Bucky gave a hum of affirmation, reaching behind him to turn on the shower before working on getting his pants off.
She shook her head to clear it, holding a hand up. “Okay. Fine. Life of luxury. Whatever. Now I just have two questions. What happened to your old boots and where the hell did you find those...monstrosities?” She paused for a moment. “Correction. I have three. First, how the heck did you of all people end up drenched in human bits? You’re the most meticulous and precise person I’ve ever met, this isn’t your usual style. Nor Steve’s, and I highly doubt Sam would be a part of whatever this,” she gestured to the tote between them, “is.”
For the first time since returning home, Bucky’s playful demeanor dropped as he scowled at the soiled clothes. “There were civilians,” he grunted out, angrily shucking off his pants.
Y/N sucked on her teeth, suddenly understanding the severity of the situation. “Hostages?”
Bucky threw his hands up in exasperation before testing the water to make sure it was at an agreeable temperature. “That’s what we all thought! Wasn’t the case… at all,” he spat out bitterly. Water evidently to his liking, he stripped the rest of the way and stepped under the high-pressured spray.
Y/N didn’t hesitate to strip and climb into the shower behind him, immediately going to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, settling her forehead on the spot between his shoulder blades. “How bad?” she asked.
Beneath her, the man let out a shudder of breath, his shoulders slumped forward, head dropping. He reached out with one hand to grasp the wall as if anchoring himself to something solid. Then, he whispered, “There was only one way for it to end.”
There was a moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, moving so they stood chest to chest. She reached up, cupping his cheek within her palm. “We can talk more about it when you’re ready.”
He smiled at her, a small one, but real this time, ducking his head to hers and pulled her closer. “I love you.”
Y/N smiled back. “I love you too, bawcock.”
She could see the ‘Error 404’ happening in Bucky’s mind when he stood up straight, staring blankly at her. Y/N let out a small giggle, grabbing the shampoo and lathering his hair, waiting for him to catch up.
As she was beginning to rinse his hair, he snapped out of it. “Bawcock?” he questioned loudly, confusion taking over his expression. “Bawcock? What the fuck?!” Y/N let out another giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer. “Yes, Bawcock.” Giving him a brilliant smile that had his heart skipping a beat, she explained, “It means, ‘a fine fellow’.” She pressed up on her toes, getting close enough that their lips were just centimeters from meeting, teasing him. Before he could give in and kiss her, she pulled back with another sly smile. “It’s either that or Lambkins. Your choice.”
Bucky’s hands dropped to her ass and picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his middle. He dropped his forehead to hers and whispered. “I swear, you are so much trouble.”
She pressed her bare breasts against his chest and tightened her legs around him, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “But you wouldn’t have me any other way,” she replied smugly, tangling her fingers in his now short locks.
Unable to hold back any longer, Bucky pressed his lips against hers, pouring the emotions he was feeling into his movements, Y/N’s touch lifting some of the darkness brewing under his skin.
Y/N was the one to pull back, panting. “I will never get used to that.”
He nuzzled her neck, pressing small kisses randomly. “Good, because we have a lifetime together of it.”
“Even longer, bawcock.”
Bucky pulled back with a scowl. “No. That’s not going to stick.”
Y/N arched an eyebrow in defiance. “Oh yeah? And how are you going to stop me?”
“Oh, I’ll show you,” he responded with a mischievous grin, slowly dropping to his knees. He pressed a slow kiss to her stomach before making eye contact with her. “All I’m going to be hearing for the next while will be my name and some of those beautiful moans I love to hear coming from your lips.”
... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢......... I͢..... I͢..... I͢..... I͢.
In the end, they both got what they wanted.
The end. ______________________________________________________________________
Tags: @bettercallsabs @thinkwritexpress-official @mermaidxatxheart @geeksareunique @dont-stop-keep-walking @moonlessnight14 @coonflix @angryteapot @theawesomefactor123 @meggie-mouse-28 @mentallych-ill-desi
If you want to be tagged in any future work, please fill out this form
