haley’s little library

Warm. 

The cozy temperature surrounding you beckons you to sink further into its comfortable drowsy feeling. It feels nice–good. It’s comfortable as you pull at the blanket wrapped around you to cover the cold tip of your nose. 

When you do though, adjusting as you move, adrenaline rushes through you. 

All sense of tranquility leaps out of your body to be replaced by standing hairs and cold blood as you realize you’re not napping in your bed. 

No–you’re napping on your capture’s lap. 

Hazy memories from just a bit ago replay in your mind. The picture they paint is fogged up by an overcast of intense emotion. 

Worry. Fear. Shock.

The panic you felt is now an almost disembodied ghost, content with hiding in the closet as it knows you can’t handle its presence anymore. 

Not right now. 

It would be too much. Your body and mind having already fought till every single cell within you is doused with exhaustion. 

The wispy wave of relief you felt–feel–now molds into another feeling. It rips the comfort your body so desperately clings to at this moment of peril and unkindly reminds you that you shouldn’t have let your guard down. 

But you did. 

You–as you see it–involuntarily allowed the very person, no, the very people who have snatched you, took you from your, albeit, unexcitingly ordinary–but otherwise stable–life, to soothe the very predicament they have forced you in.

As you recall their hushed voices anchoring you, steady hands smoothing your trembling ones, and sweet comfort that you somehow found in their pacifying of you, the one emotion you painfully feel now is…embarrassment. It aligns with disgrace you feel within yourself for giving into…this. 

You stiffen, body frozen in place as you become acutely aware of your situation again. Both the larger reality of being held hostage, and the other–ever so slightly smaller issue–that currently places your head nestled right in your captor’s lap. Bucky’s lap.

This is what you found so comforting in your sleep state? 

Head wedged exactly between his legs, resting heavily against his lower half. Your hands curled up. You stare at them. They lay right in front of your view. Almost too close to your vision where you watch them resting, palms nestled down between his thighs.

But it’s not just your position. It’s his too. One of his arms is resting against you, draped over your side, his hand sprawled just at your navel, adding to the welcoming warmth you felt upon waking up. The other, languidly stroking your head with his thumb. 

It’s an intimate position–close–in more ways than one. It’s not one you should be in, it’s not one you’re in voluntarily–despite what your last memories torturously remind you.

“You get enough sleep there, princess?” Bucky’s voice calls. You haven’t spoken a word but he must be able to tell you’re awake. Whether it’s from how your muscles have tensed, or the way you’ve been holding your breath since, is unknown to you.

You can’t see him. Your eyes are too intensely focused on how your hands rest with faux intimacy at his thighs and the realization of how long you’ve been in this position makes your lungs feel as if they don’t work anymore.

“You really scared Dada you know,” he moves his hand from your navel to caress your arm as he lends forward a bit to get a better view of your face. Still, frozen in place, you don't meet his gaze. Your self-preservation response only knows how to freeze now as you don’t move, but keep looking forward, completely unsure of how to tackle the situation you’re in. 

Waves of memory come back to you. It’s blurry as you remember how scared you were. You remember how Steve calmed you. How his voice led you to placidity. How could that be? It’s what led you to the position you're in now.

Vulnerable. Again. And yet, you let it happen. 

But you didn’t, no–you couldn’t–you don't remember exactly with anxiety fogging up your memory. 

You knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t give in. 

“Not going to ignore Daddy now, are you?” Bucky questions, taking his hand to your chin and facing it upwards so you’re looking up to him. Somehow, it’s still shocking how large he looks. You feel as though you've somehow been shrunk down a third of your size when looking at him. His hand is mostly just ghosting your face, guiding it up as he looms over you, one cheek smooshed against his navel now as his hand remains on the other.

“Hmm?” he questions, his pointer finger tapping methodically on your cheek, prompting you to answer. “Don’t tell me you forgot your manners already now, doll.”

“I-I wanna go home,” You try to sit up, not exactly sure why you said that, as recent events have told you already it’s not what he wants to hear. But you’re just not sure about anything at the moment. He looks at you with a displeased look, face dropping into an unkind frown.

His hold on you tightens; his forearm presses down on your chest lightly, silently reminding you that trying to move would be a bad idea. You don’t fight it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to succeed in getting up even if your life depended on it.

“You are home.” he declares curtly, before swiftly picking you up, dizzying you as he turns you around. You feel as though you’ve barely blinked before you’re in the new position. Your back is to his stomach as he situates you on his lap. His right arm wraps snugly around your waist, firmly securing you against his body. His left hand reaches in front and clasps around your cheeks, the cool metal instantly raising goosebumps on your once warm face as he slowly tilts your head back and forth for you, forcing you to look around the room. 

“You see all this?” he lilts with a scolding undertone. “This is your home. All of it.” he pauses before–somehow–squeezing you closer to him. He brings his head to the side of your ear. His chest flush against your back, engulfing your body, and encapsulating your very being with how he maintains his grip on your face. His breath dances lightly against your ear as he speaks, adding to the chilling feeling overtaking your insides.

“Now what would you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little baby?” He speaks in a low, hushed tone. Not a sweet one–like the hushed subdued one Steve used on you just hours ago–No, Bucky’s tone is polar to that. It’s mocking, and sardonic as you can almost feel the smirk gracing his face without even looking at him. It’s as if he’s asking the most rhetorical question known to man. “Hmm?” 

You feel your own breathing pick up. It becomes evident with how every millimeter your chest moves, your lungs have to fight against the pressure of Bucky’s heavy arms around you. Your mind is blank as fright starts to fill it instead. How were you supposed to answer that? 

When you take too long to respond, Bucky promptly pinches at your side and simultaneously squeezes your cheeks harder, causing a retaliatory yelp out of you. 

“Ah! I-I don’t know!” you squirm around at the pain that certainly doesn’t help you think. 

He promptly covers your mouth with a shush, his sizable metallic hand swallowing up your face as you squeak dully now into his solid palm. 

“No yelling now, doll.” He turns your face towards him so he can look at you as he speaks. He glances quickly at the closed bedroom door before looking back at you. “Answer Daddy’s question.” He directs, “I know you’re a smart girl.” he grins at you, and though–in most contexts–that would sound like a compliment, his tone is decidedly condescending as he continues. “But I’ll repeat my question, just in case my silly little girl forgot.” he smiles snidely at you for a brief moment before continuing. “What do you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little girl?” He says the question more slowly this time, eerily calm but just as patronizing as he goes.

You stare at him with wide eyes as he carefully removes his hand from your mouth. He doesn’t have to speak the words as his eyes alone tell you not to yell again. His fingers remain on your face, retaking their previous position of gripping your chin as he looks at you expectantly.

“...home…” you breathe meekly, voice almost cracking as you do, hoping that was the right answer. 

“Good girl,” he roughly pats at your cheek with a slightly more authentic smile. “that’s exactly right.” he praises. You then hear some movement coming from the bedroom. Bucky glances that way before speaking to you again with a stern glare in his eye. “Now when Dada comes in here, you won't say any of those silly little thoughts, will you?” he asks presumptuously. You shake your head agreeably, and when Bucky’s head tilts with a clench of his jaw, you answer promptly out loud.

“Yes, Daddy” you quiver. He smiles at you, and as if on cue, Steve emerges from the door. There's a towel around his neck and he ruffles it around his hair before spotting you, his face lighting up when he does.

“Hi there angel,” he beams and leans down to you, instantly taking in the sight in front of him. 

Your adorable frame sitting atop his partner's lap. You looked so perfect right there. As if you were the last puzzle piece missing his entire life, now fitting together so seamlessly that it just looks like a painting. A beautiful one. Steve isn’t sure how they went without you before. Your soft face still holds a frayed look. His poor girl. He was hoping a little bit of rest would ease your frazzled little mind.

“You feeling a bit better after your nap?” Steve asks with a loving tone as he carefully picks you up from Bucky’s lap. He situates you so that you are on his hip, one arm supporting your bottom with legs wrapped around his side as he guides your arms around his neck. You fit so nicely around him like this. He almost wishes he could stop time and freeze this moment forever. Being able to hold you like this, he’s never felt so whole, so complete. You feel tense in his arms, but he knows one day…that won’t be the case. You’ll lean fully in, wholly relying on and giving yourself to them both. He’s eager for every moment leading to it and each subsequent instant after. 

Steve’s cold and wet hair tickles your arms. Being so close, you can’t help but notice the crisp comforting aroma that emits from his warm skin. 

For some reason, you look to Bucky as if he holds the answer to Steve’s question. He just glares at you with a slight scowl that dares you to misbehave before standing up after too long of silence on your part. 

“She’s still feeling a bit confused.” Bucky caresses you, palm enveloping the side of your face. “Huh, doll?” 

“Awh…” Steve joins in on stroking your face by soothing the back of your head. “well that’s okay angel. Babies get confused so easily.” he says with that underlying patronizing but sweet tone he uses. “Why don’t you let Dada check you, huh?” he asks while looking you up and down. You then feel all blood draining from your face as your eyes go wide, having no idea what he means by that. 

You look between him and Bucky frantically as Steve gently grabs one of your hands from behind his neck. You instinctively try pulling away but his grip tightens before you’re able to. 

“Now now, don’t be scared,” Steve assures sweetly, a stark contrast to the death grip on your hand. “Dada just needs to look at those pesky little marks we had to leave on you last night,” he explains while unraveling you from him and setting you back down on the couch where he kneels in front of you. Your body trembles in anticipation–for what exactly, doesn’t matter. 

You can’t control it as he diligently peels your socks off and rolls your leggings up to look underneath. He takes his time tracing the deformed marks with his fingertips, lifting up your ankles as he goes before making his way to your arms. He tugs on them gently in front of you and repeats his previous examination as if he’s mapping out every little laceration. “You don’t want any more of these…do you, babygirl?” Steve lilts, an ever so slightly threatening tone lacing his otherwise calm voice as he presses his fingers down, digging just harshly enough into where a bruise must be forming and causing you to jolt at the pain.

“Ah!-n-no!” you yelp pitifully quick at the discomfort.

“No…what?” Steve prods with false grace before pressing harder into your skin.

“N-no Dada!…ah!...please.” you shakily breathe the last word with a plea, pathetically pulling on your arms that don’t move an inch under his hold.

“Good girl,” he praises with a mischievous smile, and unclenches his painful grip, but doesn’t let go completely, instead, keeping a firm hold on you. 

He steadily lifts your wrists up…to his lips. They ghost your skin as he glints at you with a soft smirk before placing slow…slow kisses along the marked-up lines. 

Warm lips meet the welts that are painted all across and up your arms from where you were bound–corporal reminders of what disobeying meant–he trails each one of them, dragging his lips and dousing each inch of burning skin with tender kisses, his grip remaining its powerful hold so you remain immobile. 

When he makes his way to your upper arm, you physically resist from full-on screaming. A quick glance to Bucky with your sorrowful eyes reveals no mercy from him. He just glares at you, a deadpan look on his face but a teasing smirk in his eyes that dares you to make a noise. 

Steve lifts his head up to face you after planting his last kiss on your upper arm, just a hair's breadth from your face. Your head has already pushed itself back as far as it’ll go as the rest of your body is ensnared by his that hovers atop yours. Thick air surrounds you as your trembles turn to full-on shaking, watching him as his eyes don’t even meet yours. His blown pupils are intensively fixated on your lips now.

They look so soft.

Time itself seems frozen, all except a slow-motion icy droplet that falls from the tips of his hair. It lands atop soft cotton, dampening the fabric on your chest that ripples chills throughout you. He follows it, dark eyes lowering to where sensitive skin is hidden by the dainty onesie Bucky dressed you in earlier. You feel heat taking over the arctic sensation within you as he looks at your body with what you can only prescribe as desire–want.

But to your–very minuscule–relief he looks back up to your eyes, and gives you a quick smile, before leaning back on his knees again in front of you with a satisfied smile adorning his face.

“Might take a while for those to heal up,” he remarks, “but don’t worry, Daddy and I will give them lots of kisses to help them heal.” he smiles at you. 

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky speaks up, crossing his arms. 

A confused and worried look that causes your eyebrows to furrow comes over your face, unsure of what he wants when you’ve barely gotten your heart to stop pounding from the previous predicament.

Bucky decides–for now–he’ll key you in. Mostly because he doesn’t like seeing his Stevie all upset when you don’t do as you were told. 

He mouths a “thank you” with a cock of his head motioning towards Steve below him. 

“Th-thank you…D-dada” you squeak, voice uncontrollably shaky. 

“Oh, such a good girl. My good little girl,” Steve beams at you before standing up. “Oh…poor thing,” he remarks while looking down at your trembling form. “You must be freezing,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dada will go get you a sweater. Stay right here,” he instructs before trailing off. 

When he comes back, there's more than just an extra garment in his hand. 

“Now later you can play upstairs all you want, but right now,” he speaks while setting down a few colorful-looking books and a box of crayons on the coffee table. “Daddy and I need to watch you and make sure you stay safe,” He then motions for you to move your arms up so he can put the sweatshirt he brought for you on. He carefully moves your arms and head through the holes and then leads you to the coffee table. “You can color as long as you like, angel, just make sure to tell us if you need anything, like water…or juice, okay?”

You nod your head complacently at him while he holds your hand looking down at you.

“Okay-I mean-I-yes…Dada” you fumble before kneeling down on the carpet yourself in front of the variety of coloring books. 

You don’t want to color. But–genuinely–what choice do you have? You could protest, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere beneficial. 

You scan the playful books in front of you, trying to find some solace in the fact that maybe focusing on this would at least mean less nerve-wracking interactions with…them. 

It shouldn't matter–which picture you settle on–with your brain still rattled from before, only you can’t help but feel choosy about the drawing you pick. You flip through the books, dog-earing the ones that pique your interest before settling on a foresty scene that depicts two large sleeping wolves and a little rabbit nestled right in the middle. 

For some perplexing reason, the crayon box decides it doesn’t want to be opened by your frail fingers. Steve quickly notices your frustrated struggle with it and instructs you to hand it to him so he can open it for you. You groan at the box and mutter something about how you ‘got it.’ 

You don’t see his eye squint and eyebrow raise as he watches you fumble with it for a moment longer, but you do feel him taking the box from your hands. 

“I don’t want you hurting those precious little fingers of yours now,” He smoothly opens the box and hands it back to you with a pet to your head. 

At some point, Bucky notices your tired posture and offers you a pillow to sit on before moving the coffee table closer to the couch so you can rest your back on the cushiony sofa. He moves it effortlessly as if the table wouldn’t break your back if you tried to move it. 

You mumble an assenting “thank you daddy” to which Bucky responds. “You’re welcome, sweet girl” with a wink and you withhold from sticking your tongue out at him.

Either one or both of them remain in the room with you for the rest of the evening, checking on you every so often. You attempt to keep your attention on remaining within the lines when you color, but you can’t help the way your unnerved hands still shake, causing you–to your annoyance–to occasionally strike outside the lines. 

By the time the sun has long set, and the only thing illuminating the paper in front of you is warm artificial light, you find yourself yawning with your head sideways on the table as you color. Whiffs of savory smells dance through your nose as Bucky has been in the kitchen for the last little bit preparing dinner.

“Getting sleepy babygirl?” Steve asks, peering down at you and your drawings. You shrug your shoulders, unsure of which answer would allow you the most leniency. 

“Oh, that one is just perfect,” he remarks while bending over and picking up the forest scene you colored first. It was hidden amongst other drawings that you had shuffled to the side. He holds it up and takes a good look at it. “You did such a good job,” he compliments. “I think this one deserves a place on the fridge” he boasts.

You turn your head back and watch in curiosity as he really does make his way to the kitchen and secures it with a little magnet. He stands back and smiles in satisfaction while you go back to coloring, feigning that you never even noticed the proud expression radiating off his body, and positively pretending that your insides didn’t go soft for a brief moment watching him. 

Steve and Bucky chatter while setting the table. You try to tunnel in on their voices but you can’t exactly make out what they’re saying as they speak quite lowly to each other. 

Steve makes his way to you and takes your hand to guide you to the table. He sets you in the seat furthest away from the door as they both sit rather closely to you–practically trapping you in. You poke at your otherwise appetizing plate as you have little desire to eat with your stomach still turned in tangled knots. 

They both encourage you to eat throughout, but you only manage to get a few bites down. Neither of them look particularly happy with you and your full plate. Nevertheless, they stop pushing after a bit and share a knowing look that you can’t make out the meaning of. 

You huff a quiet sigh of relief when they take your plate and start cleaning the kitchen, silently feeling as though you won this trivial round of control.

Bucky catches you from the corner of his eye as you take it upon yourself to get out of your chair. He tenses, preparing to snatch you before you can move until he realizes you’re only going to the living room, opposite of where the front door is. He decides to just watch you for a few moments as you go back to coloring with criss-crossed legs.   

Innocent little thing. His naive little doll shading away, having not a clue in your pretty little head of how erroneous it was to make your own decisions like that. It really was much too soon for you to truly understand what consequences will come when trying to think for yourself. He can’t exactly blame you though. His poor little baby had to do it for so long before they found you. It’s probably why you’re benignly coloring away with not an idea in your head of what’s really in store for your life here. Such a sweet, sweet little girl they had. All to themselves. Forever now.

He observes how you ferociously analyze and juxtapose the colors before you, even testing them on other miscellaneous paper before choosing the right one for the job. 

He already knows you better than you can even comprehend. He knows you’ve likely already thought you’ve gotten away with it.

“What do you think you’re doing little girl?” Bucky’s scolding voice startles you, causing you to jump a little in your spot. After just a second, he roughly yanks you up by your arm, spinning you around to face him as he holds you. “Did Daddy tell you you could leave the table? Hmm? Did Dada?” he fumes, the sudden escalation in action and tone making you want to just cry. 

“I-I-” you fumble, squirming uncomfortably below him. “I thought-”

“Oh I don’t think you were thinking anything in that silly little head of yours,” he chastises while pinching one of your cheeks harshly with his free hand. “And did you really think you could get away with not eating?”

“Ah!-” you fight, struggling against him, confused and disoriented on why he’s suddenly being so harsh when you thought you were off the hook. 

“Hey-hey, it’s okay,” you hear Steve speaking up behind him. “Let me talk to her Buck,” he says, allowing Bucky to let go of your arm and cheek. You tearfully rub at your hurt cheek while Steve kneels down to your level. “Sweet girl…remember yesterday when daddy gave you apple juice?” he asks, circling his hand behind your ear and gently cupping the cheek that Bucky previously inflicted harshly. You nod smally, glancing away around the room as you recall the unfond memory of being bottle-fed against your will. “Good, then you should know that little girls need their nutrients. And that means no skipping dinner,” he explains with a kind voice that makes you feel as if he's quite literally talking to a child.

“I-okay…Dada” you add, grateful for Steve at least being gracious enough as to not yell at and pinch you like Bucky just was. 

“Good girl,” he smiles at you before telling you to sit tight on the couch while he goes to get your dinner. You sit there, a bit perplexed on how he planned on giving you a meal when you’re pretty sure you saw Bucky scrape the remnants of your food into the trashcan. 

Steve returns with no plate in hand and sits a bit away from you, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion until you see it. 

You watch in horror as he reveals a milky white bottle that he shakes in his hand while speaking to you.

“Come here,” he beckons, patting his spacious thigh. You grimace at the granule liquid that swirls around in the bottle, not unlike the one Bucky used on you yesterday. If you didn't know better–which you don’t–you’d say it quite literally looks like baby formula.

“Uhm…I just…” you trail off, trying to come up with a reason, any reason not to be literally bottle-fed like you were yesterday. “I’m-I’m really not hungry-my-my stomach hurts,” you reason clumsily, but truthfully as well since the only thing filling your stomach right now is queasiness. Most of it coming from your situation, but the grainy texture swirling around in the bottle certainly doesn’t help your appetite either. “And-and I can just eat the other stuff,” you add frantically while looking back to the kitchen and wringing your hands.

“Now this is going to help my sweet girl feel a lot better and sleep real tight,” Steve remarks, completely ignoring your words and requests. 

“I-I said I'm not hungry.” you say a bit louder, but with a mild tone as to not sound too combative. 

“And I said this will help you sleep,” he asserts while dabbing the tip of the bottle on his wrist. “Now come sit on Dada’s lap,” he demands while patting his thigh again. You shake your head while subtly scooting away from him. 

“Mmm-mmm” you hum a no while sliding back even further. “Please, I don’t wan-”

“Did Dada ask what you wanted?” he cuts you off with a cock to his head at you. “No,” he shakes his head, answering his own question patronizingly. “I didn’t. You don’t get to decide what’s good for you. Only Daddy and I know that. Now I won’t ask again. Come here. Now.” he insists sternly. You debate quickly in your head, weighing out your limited options. When you still sit there not moving an inch, Steve sighs and reaches for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“No!” you say in response to the action. He’s not necessarily yanking or being particularly rough, but without thinking, you push back at him, your free hand overshooting and accidentally hitting his shoulder. Of course, it’s like you’ve hit a brick wall, the small action hurting your wrist much more than it likely hurt him at all. But something about it felt…cathartic. And something inside you just…snaps. 

You had played nice all day, letting them hold you, touch you, kiss you. Hell–you even sat on the floor for hours and colored while wearing a onesie. And now he wanted to bottle feed you actual formula. You had to draw the line. 

You couldn’t give in. The silent promise you made to yourself earlier rings in your head. You weren’t going to drink this stupid bottle.

Steve still has you in his grasp and is pulling you closer to him so that you can be in his lap. Only, you take this opportunity to fight. Hard. 

With all the strength you have, you wrench yourself back. Steve quickly encapsulates both your hands, making you feel as though you’ll sooner break your own wrists before you ever successfully free yourself from his grip. You take it upon yourself to switch strategies, maneuvering yourself into a position where you just start kicking at him feverishly. It felt childish. It looked childish. But you didn’t care right now. You weren’t going to play along any longer. 

You realize halfway through your nonsensical thrashing fit that Steve is likely just letting you play this out before he decides he’s had enough. He decisively stands up, dragging your combative form with him as he roughly swings you up to throw you over his shoulder. You still fight him, your flailing is joined with nonsensical shrieks as you lash out on him physically and verbally. Steve holds you down atop him firmly while hauling you upstairs. Before you realize it, you’re roughly tossed down into a mattress. The otherwise compliant spread hurts you on impact from the height you fall from. Your swirling vision from being upside down and lack of oxygen in your lungs from screaming leaves you disoriented until your dazed eyes focus on structured parallel bars. 

Steve’s thrown you into the very crib he showed you just hours ago. 

“That’s just for when you’re feeling extra little,”

You instantly try to stand up only for Steve to effortlessly push you back down, sending you to roughly bounce on your bottom. You clumsily try to regain your balance and breath while Steve reaches for something besides the crib. Before you know it, Steve’s grabbed both your hands and starts heatedly tying them together. Tightly. He ensnares your fingers together and weaves the rope around every inch of your digits up to the middle of your forearm, completely restraining the hands that fought him. 

You try getting up again only to find it’s surprisingly hard to move with your hands bound in front of you. 

He mutters to you something about ‘not moving’ while making his way to the end of the crib. He abrasively yanks both of your legs down to the edge of the caged mattress and begins tying those together too. You flail hopelessly, hurling unkind words at him while he secures your ankles to the bars, completely immobilizing the legs that were just unabashedly kicking at him.

When you finally catch a glimpse of Steve’s face, his expression is unforgiving. Furrowed eyebrows highlight his intense dark focus as veined arms secure you to the crib.

Steve straightens himself up and towers over you from beside the crib. He just watches you until you decide to give up on fighting, realizing you can’t free yourself from your binds. Your anger slowly turns to just pure sorrow, as you find yourself crying hot tears into your already burning face. You murmur pointless cries asking over and over again to just be let go…

“Angel…” Steve says softly, his features appearing less angered now, but still unhappy nonetheless. “I’m going to give you one more chance,” he kneels down, leveling himself with you from outside your confines. He reaches through the bars and caresses your rope-covered hands. “If you do what Dada says, then I might go easy on your punishment,” he slides his hands up, open-palmed, slowly inching his way to your face. He lingers on your throat for a moment too long before laying his hand across your cheek. “But that’s only if you stop being a bad girl…is that what you want?” he asks patronizingly, with a cock to his head, faux sympathy lining his tone. “You want Dada to treat you like a bad girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, heavy tears pitifully falling as Steve watches you. He doesn’t catch them as he awaits your answer that doesn’t come. 

He then tries to give you the bottle from before again but you only resist. Shaking your head and crying profusely while mumbling sorrowful nonsense.

Steve sighs, and hangs his head. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He wants to hear you laugh. The same laugh he heard over anything else the first night he found you. He wants to see you smile. The same way you beamed at him that night he helped you find your way back. He wants to draw you close when you fall asleep next to him. The same way he’s watched you fall asleep all by yourself for months. He wants to replace the teeny little thumb you always stick in your mouth when you think no one is watching with his. He knows you want this. He knows you need this. 

But it’s obvious his poor girl just doesn’t understand that yet. 

Steve knows babies have a hard time listening when throwing tantrums anyway...  

For now, if you won’t listen, he’ll just have to show you. 

“My sweet girl…” Steve grabs your face, turning it towards him. “You just won’t learn unless Dada shows you, huh?” he releases your face dismissively and stands up. 

“If you want to act out…” he speaks while reaching across the crib above you, 

“and think you’re a big girl…” he lifts something weighty that’s attached to the top of the crib, 

“that’s fine,” parallel bars intrude your vision of Steve from above you, 

“But this is what happens when you act like a bad girl.” Steve’s voice turns more ireful with every word he speaks, as he works his way around the crib, latching multiple locks together that you hadn't noticed before with increasingly aggressive force. 

“You get treated like one. Bad girls get left all alone by themselves without Dada. If you really want Dada to let you go. Fine. You’ll stay right here until you understand what it means to listen.” he slams the last latch shut.

You barely have time to process his words while your wobbly vision interprets what’s happening above you. By the time you comprehend that there’s a top to this ‘crib’ that Steve has locked you in, he’s already left the room, truly isolating you.

Anguished sobs that were falling on deaf ears during Steve’s spiel to you now meet the equally deaf silence of the room itself. 

It was getting a bit cooler now. 

The previously bright day had been overtaken by navy shadows that bring nippy wisps of air that catch on your exposed arms, sending chills throughout you. 

“I told you we should have used the long-sleeved one,” Steve remarks to Bucky as he watches you make a tiny shiver.

Bucky rolls his eyes at him, knowing you were the one who insisted on this specific onesie when he dressed you this afternoon. With an eager look on your face, you held it up to him, proudly showing him how it would match perfectly with some leg warmers you found in your drawer. He couldn’t argue with that, not when your giddy smile and sweet eyes looked at him while holding it up as high as you could for him.

“Come here babydoll,” Bucky says, squatting down a bit to get closer to your level. 

You don't hear him for a second. Not even your numbed fingertips could distract you from the bright lights that reflect off your eyes. You’ve been watching the multicolored Ferris wheel since you got here. You wanted to go on it so bad. 

Thus far, you’ve only been allowed to play the ground games. Though, you can’t complain too much now that you’ve collected quite a load of new stuffies to bring home. You’d like to think yourself pretty talented at these games–maybe too talented. 

You’ve all but completely missed the harsh glares Bucky gives the poor workers when they tell you “awh too bad” when you miss the target, but then proceed to hand you whichever stuffed animal or toy you’d been wanting anyway. You’d turn around to your daddies, excitingly showing them your prize and proudly exclaiming “I won! I won!” and Bucky would always tell you how good of a job you did every time.

“Babydoll?” Bucky calls again, bringing you back to reality, his voice sweet, as if he’s teasing you a bit, knowing how much you've enjoyed this outing.

It was a tough call. Bringing you here. They knew how much you wanted to go. Ever since Peter babbled on and on about his trip to the carnival at his birthday party a few months ago, you’ve been begging them ever since. It’s not that they didn't want to take you. It could never be that. They just weren’t sure if it would be safe…

“There’s all kinds of creeps at those things!” Steve argues to Bucky, turning around as if that’s the last word and final say about it. 

“I know. I know. But…she really wants to go. Plus…it’s not like we’ll ever let her out of our sight.” Bucky tries to reason, knowing it was something they would enjoy too. He has several fond memories of dragging Steve along with him through the bustling crowds of people just so he could play–and win–all the games he could, always asking Steve which prize he wanted before promising him he’d win it on the first try. Long before he knew of what true cruelties lived beyond their hometown, Bucky had already mastered the art of staring down unfair showmen who would poke fun at Steve’s then narrower figure.

Bucky just couldn’t help the almost giddy feeling he got just at the idea of holding you up high while you throw one of those balls with all your might to win some oversized stuffed animal that you’d undoubtedly insist on carrying on your own despite it being twice your height.

“We could even get one of those leash things,” he suggests, the idea popping into his mind like it’s the most brilliant thing, remembering how he showed the leashed froggy backpack he saw a while ago to Steve.

“It’s not just that,” Steve admits, brows furrowed as he sits on the edge of the bed, a sad and worried look overtaking his features that makes Bucky want to cave to anything he’d ask. “what if…” he trails off, not meeting Bucky’s gaze, “what if…she tries to run off?” he says quietly as if the fear itself would be brought to life if he spoke it too loudly. 

It had been a long while since you tried to run away. All things considered, you seemed to be fully adjusted now. Every so often you would act up, but only in the way that all little girls would every now and then. They would always punish you appropriately, the way all good daddies would, reminding you that your life with them is your life, and that the horrid life you had before you was one never meant for a sweet innocent little girl like you. 

They saved you. Steve routinely reminded you as such, but he didn’t have to. Bucky could tell you knew it was true now just by the way your bright eyes greeted them every morning. You knew that you were only good and safe with them to take care of you. His little girl couldn't even function without them now. It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

Bucky thinks for a moment, walking closer to Steve and kneeling on the floor in front of him. He pushes his way into him, maneuvering himself between Steve’s legs, and scoops his distressed hands into his, kissing them both before looking back up to Steve. 

“She won’t.” he says, thick air questioning if it's true. 

But his words say more than just that. The meaningful look in Bucky’s eyes tell Steve that no matter what, they’ll always have you. And that there was no way you could get away from them. Bucky knew it wasn't just the fear of physically losing you, but the fear of hurt that they would feel if you even tried. 

Steve smiles a bit, his hands pulling Bucky up so that he’s now standing between his legs. He takes his hands, sliding them down from Bucky’s sides to his hips where they rest for the moment. 

“Alright,” Steve sighs, looking up to Bucky, and pulling him a bit closer by his belt loops, “but any sign of trouble, we leave” Steve states, seriousness in his tone, the same kind of voice he uses when they’re on missions together. 

“As if it would be any other way.” Bucky remarks, a smirk teasing his face as he dips his head down a bit to meet his lips with Steve’s. Steve sighs into his kiss, feeling the tension leaving his body just by Bucky’s stable words and secure presence.

“You think too much Rogers” Bucky teases after breaking from the kiss, thinking of all the times Steve would try to worm his way out of Bucky having to go on a mission with him in fear of his partner getting hurt–whether it be mentally or physically–Steve couldn't bare the thought of having to see Bucky like he was when he saw him for the first time in this new world. 

“Can’t help it,” he breathes, Bucky never ceasing to take his breath away from his all-encompassing kisses. “I love you two more than anything,” he says earnestly as if it’s the only known fact in the universe. 

“I know” Bucky smiles, “I know.”

“Oh-sorry Daddy!” you turn around, not meaning to ignore him. He holds out a sweatshirt and you instinctively hold up your arms so he can help put it on you. “Did you see the Ferris wheel Daddy?” you ask excitingly for the third time that night. Bucky chuckles a bit. 

“Yes, I did,” he answers as if it’s the first he’s hearing about it while putting some soft-knitted mittens he had in his pocket on your hands. “M’not sure if Dada heard though,” he whispers to you, “maybe you should go tell him,” he informs you with a wink. 

You hurriedly run over to Steve, jumping in place over and over again in front of him. 

“Dada! Dada!” you take his hand and drag him a bit closer to where you had the best view of the colorful wheel. “Look!” you point and turn to him with an excited expression. “Can we go? Please? Pretty please? Please please please please-” you babble over and over again while continuing to jump up and down until you’ve all but run out of air in your lungs. 

Steve looks at the contraption suspiciously, not trusting of the achy-sounding metal, and certainly not wanting his little girl near anything dangerous. He catches a glimpse of Bucky though, who’s contagiously smiling at you both, and remembers how often Bucky tells him not to worry so much. 

“Okay-okay” Steve caves, unable to help but smile at your hyper manner right now. “Just this once, then we can go home and get you all nice and warm” he teasingly pinches at your cold cheeks.

“Yayayay!” you literally scream out, not even caring one bit that he said it was only once or that you had to go home after this. You were more than overjoyed that you got to ride it at all. 

You start to make a sprint for it, only getting a few feet when resistance yanks you back, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to steady yourself from the unexpected halt in momentum. Steve hadn’t even pulled on the backpack at all, it was just your pure running and his not moving an inch that caused you to ricochet back a bit. It’s a wonder you didn't fall flat on your behind. 

“Heh-sorry!” you sheepishly laugh it off and wait patiently for them to catch up with you in basically two full steps for them. 

As you make the short walk to the diminishing line in the late hour, Steve stops to tie his shoe, occupying both of his hands. You swing your arms aimlessly around waiting for him to finish while looking around. 

As you mindlessly scan the area around you, your head does a double take as you recognize something. 

No–someone. 

You watch the stranger in confusion until the remnants of memory come back to you. It was a friend. But this person wasn’t Peter or Wanda…no. It was a friend from…before.

It disorients you, confusion washing over you and placing a pit in your stomach as your life before now was mostly forgotten and placed in a dusty cardboard box in the back of your mind’s vaults. 

You watch as they walk away, towards where you know leads to the parking lot. And as if something takes over you, you start following their footsteps, unhinderedly drifting away from where Steve and Bucky are. 

As you mindlessly follow, several feet behind, memories of your past life replay in your mind. They playback in black and white as if you’re watching one of those really old movies Steve likes to show you sometimes. 

Then you hazily remember when they first found you…took you. Emotions of how scared and confused you were overtake your mind. You remember how they kept you in the house, never letting you leave. 

“Sily girl, Dada can’t kidnap what’s already his,” Steve would tell you every time you’d harshly accuse him of kidnapping you. 

“No one can protect you like we can,” Bucky would shush you after one of his punishments when you had pushed too hard. “Daddy only does this ‘cause he loves you.” he’d brush over your already bruising skin before carefully wiping away the tears that he had ignored for hours before.

Some nights you’d wake from nightmares, the specifics of it not mattering when Steve would find you crying into your stuffie. He never hesitated to pick you up and let you weep into his shoulder. Always whispering that you were okay, that you were safe. 

“It’s okay angel, Dada’s here. You’re safe with me. I’ll always keep you safe. Always.” he’d repeat to you sincerely, holding onto you so tightly, as if the slightest loosening of his grip meant the very air around him would harm you.

To him though, it was true. Nothing could hurt you as long as you were in his arms. He’d carry you downstairs, where Bucky would tell you that nightmares didn’t matter “‘cause they aren’t real, doll…not like me and Dada.” he’d caress your warm cheeks while Steve fetched you some cold milk. They’d stay up with you as long as you needed, not even daring to shut an eye until you felt safe enough to sleep again.

And truthfully…you did. You did feel safe. 

Maybe it was strange…the way you sought their comfort…their touch…their love, when you fought it in the beginning. 

And you did fight…hard. 

But every retaliation you made only ended in harsh grabs. Every effort to push them away resulted in lacerated reminders. Every moment you spent denying what they told you only yielded unrestrained punishments. 

“My sweet girl…you’ll learn soon enough. Fighting us only makes it harder for you.” Steve would stroke your cheek through the bars of your crib. “All you have to do is listen to what we say. We know what’s best for you, angel.” he’d say before leaving you all tied up and alone for hours…sometimes days. 

And then, after you’d more than cried yourself dry, throat scratchy from lack of hydration, he’d appear to you, asking if you’d learned your lesson. Your body would somehow discover new tears as you’d plead with him, promising him you’d be a good girl. 

It’s then that he’d smile down at you so sweetly, lifting your limp body from its cushiony cage and shower you with endless affection. 

He’d drown you with attention, never allowing you to lift a finger. He’d clean you up with your favorite scented soap, and after you were all done, Bucky would present you with a new set of soft clothes they bought just for you for taking your punishment so so well. They’d play your favorite shows and message every sore spot on your tired body after ordering from your favorite type of take out, something you never even told them. There wasn’t a moment where they weren’t touching you in some way, dousing you with sweet words about how much they loved their beautiful helpless little girl. 

Helpless.

A word that reminds you exactly how you felt the very first time you bumped into Steve. All alone and scared, in a place that was dark and unfamiliar. You were lost then. 

Just like you were right now. 

You practically snap back into reality, the one where you’ve found yourself far away from the luminous festival lights and eerily close to where you can’t hear racket of activities anymore. It’s quiet, and you don’t even know where that funnily familiar person you were following went. Dread fills your insides as you realize you’re all alone. 

You turn around hastily, 

Anxiety fills your stomach as you rashly run in the opposite direction, before tripping on a wire that sends you spiraling down to the ground. You clumsily try to catch yourself, mittened hands harshly hitting the pavement, and asphalt slashes through your leggings, exposing the soft flesh of your knees to razor-sharp pain.

The sudden impact scares you, tears that were already forming from before start rushing out of your eyes. 

Instinctually, you cry for Steve. For Dada. But when after too many moments you don’t feel their comfort, you look around and remember they’re not there. Your heart pounds as people rush by seemingly unaffected by your fallen form. You swirl your head around looking for them and are instead met with the haunting image of your green leash’s end, its ghostly emptiness scorning you from where it lays.  

You cry harder, guilt and anguish now thumping alongside the throbbing in your chest that radiates to your body’s wounded limbs and you're pretty sure the only words coming out of your mouth are pathetic strings of ‘daddy’ and ‘dada.’

“There she is” Bucky spots you, both of them rushing over to you, distraught as they notice your scraped-up form. 

“Dada!” you cry, leaping towards Steve and wrapping your arms around his neck as he picks you up. You helplessly weep, not just from the physical pain but from the emotional strain your misplaced detour took you on. You cry for leaving them. You can't tell if it was on purpose, but you feel awful from even remembering your past life and getting so close to being lost.

“Fuck, angel. What happened?” Steve breathes, taking the scuffed mittens off your hands to examine you closer. 

“I-...I-” you try to speak through gasps of crying. They both question you on where you went and why you walked away. You barely manage to tell the story in broken sobs as to what truthfully happened. They listen intensively as you tearfully explain the details of what happened.

“But-but-I-I don’t wanna! Don’t wanna lose daddies! Don’t wanna! Didn’t mean t-to! I-I p-promise-I-I didn’t!” you stagger between breaths, gasping for air as your sob relentlessly in Steve’s arms. 

“Shh, hey-hey” Bucky caresses your head, directing your attention to him. “It’s okay, doll. It’s okay. You’re okay.” he consoles. Steve gently wipes your tears at the same time and helps in calming you. You look at them both through blurry vision and continue weeping apologies to which they both remind you that it’s okay. 

They were scared to death when they only took their eyes off you for a second and you were gone…but they found you, just like the first time. 

They bring you over to sit down on a bench so they can better help console you and check your injuries. Steve rummages through the backpack he was carrying to get a first aid kit, and Bukcy watches through tortured eyes as you miserably cry.

“Doll.” he tenderly tilts your chin up to him. Tearful eyes red from crying look up to him. “Daddy’s proud of you.” he states, earnestly, stern and true. It makes you cry harder though, with confusion written all over your face. Proud? How could he be proud when you almost thought about running away? 

“W-why?” you cry “I-I bad. bad!” you weep pitifully as you feel Steve cleaning your knees. 

“No angel. You’re not bad.” Steve states, only confusing you more, you were sure both of them would be upset with you…considering they had every reason to. 

“You know why?” Bucky asks, stroking your previously cold cheeks that have now been warmed by your tears. You shake your head no as more seemingly endless tears fall. “‘Cause you came back,” he says, wiping them as they come. “You came back to find us. That’s all that matters.” Bucky reassures you. 

It hurts, both his and Steve’s worst fear almost coming to life. 

But it didn't. 

And truthfully, no one understood that more than Bucky. He knew more than anyone what it was like to get confused. To see or hear something otherwise mundane that whips you back to a place where you feel out of control. 

The story you recanted to them rings all too familiar to him. It reminds him of shaky hands and paralyzed tongue that attempted to explain to Steve what it was like to not be in control of your own body. Your own actions. 

It didn’t matter that you wandered away. It didn’t matter where your thoughts went. All that mattered was that you cried for them. All that mattered was your tiny hands curled around Steve's shirt so hard he’d thought you’d hurt your own fingers. All that mattered was the way you pulled Bucky closer while weeping his name as he comforted you. 

All that mattered…was that you needed your Daddies.  

They both reassure as such in ways they knew you'd understand. Besides, it only made sense that their little girl would get confused sometimes. That’s what daddies are for. And you came back because you knew they always made the best decisions for you. And even if on the off chance that you hadn't…that really wouldn’t have mattered anyway either. They would always find their little girl because you belong with them. Always and forever.

“Which ones do you want little princess?” Steve asks you, offering a variety of colorful bandages in front of you. Your hysteria and their sweet strong words have all but distracted you from the pain of the scratches lacerating your knees. You point to the ones you like and Steve praises you for making “such a good choice babygirl.”

Bucky holds you close and lets you bury your head in his chest while Steve carefully puts them on. You feel guilt again when you notice that the soft mittens now have little scuffs and holes in them that match your pants. But Steve reassures you that it’s ‘no biggie’ and that they can always get you another pair. 

“How about Daddy and I get you some ice cream?” Steve suggests, knowing sweets was at least one way to cheer his sweet girl up. 

You sniffle, looking to him at the suggestion. 

“Ice cweam?” you say with a small voice “I-I wike ice cweam” you say softly, not meaning to slur your words. But you never did anyway, it always just happened beyond your control. 

“I think that sounds perfect, huh doll?” Bucky says lightheartedly and sweetly while picking you up from the bench and placing you in Steve's arms.

“Wif sprinkles toos?” you ask, rubbing your sore eyes. 

“All the sprinkles for my sweet little girl” Steve smiles at you while playfully poking at your side making you giggle a bit. 

The cold dessert cools your hot throat and brings a smile back to your face. Of course, what really made you happy was knowing your daddies weren’t upset with you, and even more importantly, that you were never going to lose them.

“Hey what’s that on Dada’s face?” Bucky points directly to Steve, making you turn to examine it closely as you're still in his arms. It gives Bucky the opportunity to steal a lick from your ice cream.

“Hey!” you laugh turning back to Bucky’s not-so-secret move when you realize there was nothing amiss on your Dada’s face. 

“What?” he puts his hands and shoulders up in a shrug of confusion while looking around and feigning confusion. You giggle more as obvious signs of ice cream are on the tip of his nose.

“Looks like daddy’s the one with something on his face” Steve teases, and you laugh with them while they let you finish your little treat.

“You still wanna go up on the Ferris wheel babygirl?” Steve asks after wiping your hands clean from any sticky residue. You look up to him with awe and shock, not expecting him to still offer it. 

“Really?” you question with a hopeful but weary look on your face from not being sure of why you deserve it. Steve nods at you and tells you yes. Maybe he was skeptical before, but nothing was better than seeing his little girl's face light up in a smile. 

Plus, Steve knew you were their little girl. More than that, he knew that you knew. In your heart, you came back to them. You needed them. And that’s all Steve could ever want. 

You’re squeezed between your two daddies as the wheel makes its way up to the top. They watch as you look in awe of how tiny everything looks from up above. This must be what it's like for your daddies to see all the time. You feel as though you’re at the tippity top of the wheel forever. You don’t mind as it’s beautiful and quiet up there with the only people in the world you wanted to be with. You tiredly lay your head against Steve's arm, signaling to him that you’ll likely sleep the whole drive home. 

“I love you,” you say contently, and they know you say it for both of them. 

“We love you too angel. So much,” Steve tells you, smiling down at his sleepy little girl, and looking up to see Bucky’s lightened up face too. 

Of course, you start to panic, seeing the liquid spread all over the clean floor. You start apologizing profusely when they come to check on you after hearing a noise. 

“I-I’m sorries” you cry over and over again, beginning to shake, knowing you’ve done something bad–made a mess. 

“Awh no, Angel, hey-” Steve picks you up, noticing you’re standing where the liquid meets your covered toes. “It’s okay baby, don’t cry. It was just an accident.” He sets you on the counter as Bucky cleans your mess. You keep apologizing and crying. Steve and Bucky both reassure ‘it’s fine angel’, ‘don’t worry about it doll’.

After it’s all cleaned up, Steve hands you a new filled-up sippy while Bucky changes your damp socks, knowing they must not feel comfortable or help your distressed mood.

“How about we get you ready for bed early, huh doll?” he asks.

A simple question. But one that makes your already anxious mind mold into guilt. You didn't want to go to bed--Well, that wasn’t exactly true--You didn’t want to go to your room. Your pink room. It was perfect, in every way–except the color. It made you feel so bad. You knew how much they wanted you to love it. You didn’t want them to think you were bad.

“I’ll even read you two bedtime stories,” Bucky interrupts your thoughts, trying to cheer you up. He picks you up and sets you back down on the clean floor. It only makes you feel worse. You’d love it if he read you a million bedtime stories, but it just felt so hard going in your room. It just didn’t feel like yours.

You don’t answer him. Instead, you just stand there, looking almost petrified. 

“Doll? Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks as you make no indication of wanting to go to your room. Steve bends down, leveling himself closer to you.

“Sweet girl, can you tell dada what’s wrong? You know we're not upset about the sippy, what’s bothering you babygirl?” Steve asks gently. Still, you only cry harder, not wanting to say what you mean. How could you tell them something like that? Wouldn't they just think you’re a bad girl who doesn't want to listen to daddies and go to your room?

“Jus-jus’ don’t wan’ daddies to be mads at me” you sob sorrowfully into your own hands.

“Oh no, angel...we won’t be mad, as long as you're honest about what’s going on in that little head of yours,” he teasingly pets your head. “we could never be mad at you like that.” He encourages you to speak up, taking your little hands into his softly. 

“It-it’s jus-” you try making the words come out, but only more tears fall instead. Steve tugs you closer, hugging you as you weep into his shoulder. Eventually, there’s only one word you’re able to mumble out. Color.

“Color?” He questions gently, trying to confirm what you said, and pulling apart to look at you. You nod your head shamefully, unwilling to look up from the floor. 

“What color baby?”

“Room.” you say quietly. 

“The color of your room? Pink?” He questions. You nod your head, and it takes him a moment before he realizes what you’re trying to communicate. “You don’t like the pink babygirl?” He asks carefully.

You nod your head in confirmation but the admission only makes you feel worse, causing you to cry harder again. 

“I’m sorry,” you say woefully in between sobs. 

“Oh angel, no, no. You don’t need to be sorry about that,” You look up to meet his gaze as he wipes the tears from your wet face.

“Really?” You ask sensitively. 

“Of course not.” Bucky chimes in, reaching down to pick you up. He bounces you up as he places you around his hip. “Why didn’t you just tell us sooner, doll?” you shrug your shoulders, and mumble an ‘I dunno.’

“I’m so sorry we didn’t know before babygirl. That’s daddies job, we should have known. We’re the sorry one's little princess.” Steve reassures, caressing your cheek while still in Bucky’s arms.

You look back to Bucky, wanting to gauge if he was upset. However, he doesn’t look displeased as only concern laces his features as he looks at you. 

“You know, doll, I'm somewhat of a painter myself,” he says lightheartedly, causing a skeptical eyebrow raise from Steve. 

“Oh yeah, that so?” Steve jeers.

“Absolutely,” he defends. “After all, who do you think painted your room and did all that hard work in the first place?” he gestures his head towards Steve “not that guy” he teases, making you giggle, bringing a small smile to your face.

“You-you’re not upset I don’t like it?” you ask, still feeling bad since he did it all for you.

“Of course not Doll. What kind of Daddy would I be if I didn’t know your favorite color?” he explains, “now tell us, what colors do you want instead?” you ponder for a moment, thinking.

It hurts.

“Mornin’ Doll,” Bucky says after flipping your lights on. The illumination now burning your vision makes you pull the covers over your head as you flip over, hiding from the bright room. You hear him making his way to your bedside. The mattress beneath dips you sideways a bit as he sits beside your dormant form. 

“Come on now, time to get up.” he pulls lightly at the duvet covering you. He can tell you’re gripping it with all you can. Though he could easily unveil you, he decides against it, knowing that ripping the blanket from your delicately curled-up fingers might hurt them. Instead, he leans his body over yours, one hand placed on the other side of your hip as he hovers above you. He dips his head close to where yours is concealed by the warm blanket. “Don’t make me carry you down there,” he whispers teasingly, figuring it’s likely what you’re hoping for. 

Instead, you only groan in response, mumbling something about getting a little more sleep. It wasn’t an uncommon request from you, and Bucky knew how much babies needed their sleep. Usually, he would let it slide, loving how adorable you look in dreamland, but he can’t. Not this time. 

It was almost noon. He peers around your room. It’s not the cleanest, but it looks pristine compared to the current state of your playroom. He had asked you yesterday to clean it, noticing the myriad of toys and their respective accessories scattered across the carpeted floor.

You, preoccupied with dressing your doll so she could ‘go on vacation,’ promised him you’d do it after dinner. Bucky apprehensively agreed, and even let you fall through on your assigned chore after you quickly fell asleep on the couch, much before your usual bedtime. Figuring you played your little heart out, he carried you upstairs and told himself to remind you in the morning.

Having already slept almost twelve hours, he knows if he lets your slumber last any longer, you’ll never sleep tonight. He sighs.

“I know you want more babygirl, but Dada already made breakfast and lunch. You need to come eat,” he waits a few moments for you to respond, but you don’t let out a sound or groan. “I'm serious, Doll, time to get up,” he states, standing up, hoping it’ll prompt you to follow. You peel your sheets back to look at him.

“Daddy…” you whine, unsure of what you're asking for. All you knew is that it hurt. Everything. It wasn’t just that the lights were too bright. It wasn't just that you were sleepy. Your whole body felt…bad. Just bad. You couldn’t exactly explain it, but you did know that moving didn’t seem like it would help. 

Bucky only looks at you, unsatisfied. You try sitting up, which you find is more difficult than it should have been. Once you’re upright, you feel pressure in your head. Your cheeks and forehead feel as if there's unwanted gunk smooshed inside. It makes you want to lie back down immediately. 

“m’ tired daddy,” you say groggily. 

“That’s ‘cause you slept so much,” Bucky knew messing with your established sleep pattern too much would likely make you feel more cranky than it seemed you already were. So, as much as he knew you didn’t want to, he believed it would be for the best to make you get up.

As you start to get out of bed, it feels as though the air is made of thick jello with every movement you make.

“Daddyyy…ughhhh” you groan unhappily at him, and kick at your sheets frustrated that you’re being forced to move.

Bucky’s eyes narrow at your agitated action, never liking that kind of behavior from you.

“Don’t be that way, Doll. it’s too early for that,” he warns.

“Mmm,” you groan again. “noo, don’t wanna, wanna sleep!” you say crankily, flopping back down on the bed again with your arms crossed to prove your point. That point being: you. did. not. want. to. move.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath, debating internally on how to approach your grouchiness. He decides, only since it’s so early—for you—that he’ll go easy on you, hoping this attitude will fade as you wake up. 

“No more sleep, but,” he leans down closer to you, “if you promise to be a good girl all day, Daddy will carry you down there.” he offers as a compromise.

Truthfully, you’d still rather lay in bed, but you knew you had to do what Daddy asked. More so, you didn’t want him to be upset with you, so you nod your head in agreement. 

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay daddy, what?” he questions.

“I-i’ll be good,” you say, having a hard time remembering what he asked. He slides his hands under you and begins to pick you up. Once you’re in his hold, you quickly let your head fall to his shoulder, wishing you could now sleep there instead.

“And you’ll eat your breakfast this morning?” he asks into your heavy head. You nod into his neck and mumble a ‘yes daddy’ assentingly.

Once he places you in your chair downstairs, Steve greets you with a bright smile, and a kiss to your forehead after setting down your food. When he does, he notices how hot your skin feels against his.

“You feel warm angel, you feel okay, babygirl?” he asks, gently checking the temperature of your cheeks with the back of his hand.  

“Oh, she just got up, she’s probably still warm from sleep,” Bucky answers before you get the chance to speak. “Somebody really didn’t want to get up this morning,” he pokes. 

“Ohh,” Steve coos, “you still sleepy, babygirl?” he asks. You shake your head weakly, eyes drifting closed. You think about telling him how bad you feel, but you don’t really have the energy to try to explain it.

Instead, you decide to focus on eating, hoping the sooner you finish, the quicker you can return to resting. However, the very first swallow of your otherwise pleasant meal scratches at your throat. You still try to get some down, thinking the pain will go away if you keep trying. When it becomes evident that won't be the case, you poke at your plate and begin to speak up.

“Daddy, m’done,” you push your plate away, “my thro-” 

“Uh-uh, a few more bites,” Bucky pushes the plate back in front of you, knowing you’ll never feel more awake with an empty stomach. “And after you finish, you can go clean your playroom,” You look at him puzzled.

“But-”

“No buts. I already asked you to do it yesterday,” he explains, not looking up from whatever he happened to be reading at the table with you. Your face twists in confusion for a few moments before you remember how tired you felt last night. Truthfully, the fatigue was all your body could focus on, making you completely forget about the room.

“But daddy-”

“What did I just say?” he looks up at you.

“I’m tired!” you snap at him, voice raised high and whiney as you bemoan at him. You cross your arms and huff grumpily back into the chair.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. Do what Daddy says, or you can say goodbye to your playroom for the next week” he threatens. Not wanting to get out of bed was one thing, but directly disobeying him with that attitude was another. 

Still, you only groan angrily in response, not feeling like you could do anything right now. 

“Ugh!” you flop your head down on the table dramatically, hiding between your arms. Bucky lets your stew there for a moment before speaking up.

“Are you gonna finish eating or not?” He asks eventually, eerily calm. You remain silent, unsure of what to say. “Fine, you can go clean your room now,” You look up to him at that, suddenly confused and disoriented. Surely your daddy should know how bad you feel. 

“But Daddy! I don't wanna now! I don't feel g-”

“Did I ask if you wanted to? I don’t care if you don't feel like it. Now. Or no playroom for a month.” your jaw drops, your muddled brain beyond baffled on why he’s being so harsh. Still, you know he means it. It wasn’t outside his usual punishment by any means. You almost think you should consider yourself lucky he hasn’t bent you over his knee already with how you’re fighting him.

Feeling defeated, you drag your body out of your chair. Before you can go, he grabs your arm with a warning.

“and quit with the attitude.” 

“Yes, Daddy” you squeak lamentably, noticing how your throat hurts as you speak.

You drag your feet upstairs, physically resisting your legs from stomping as you go. Anger and confusion mix together in you as you think about what he said. You didn’t want to be grounded from your playroom. So many of your favorite things were in there. And, again, more importantly, you didn't want to make daddy upset with you. You never liked it when he was. You always tried so hard to be a good girl for them. But right now, it was so hard. In actuality, what you wanted more than anything was for him to cuddle with you. You felt Daddy and Dada could always make you feel better. No matter what, you were convinced your Daddies loving embrace could cure you from any ailment. 

Maybe, you think, if you just cleaned your room like a good girl, you could ask to cuddle with him after. 

You try your hardest to ignore the pain that ignites at every move you make, but truthfully, you're already abnormally out of breath just from your quick walk up the stairs. The room feels uncomfortably chilly against your skin. 

After you get a small portion of the floor cleared, you decide to take a little break. You practically collapse beneath yourself, curling underneath the cozy play tent filled with askew fluffy pillows and dismayed blankets. You shut your eyes and tell yourself you’ll only rest for a few minutes…

“Angel?” Steve's voice echoes back at him from the loft balcony where you should easily be able to pick up his voice. He can’t hear you moving around. “Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks Bucky.

“She better. It’s where I told her to be.” he retorts disdainfully, hoping you're not again disobeying him by being somewhere else. 

Steve stills himself, and listens closely, he can tell you’re there, but your breathing doesn’t sound normal. 

Concerned, he makes his way upstairs. Bucky follows, recognizing Steve’s ‘something’s wrong’ face. 

Steve panics for a brief moment when he enters the empty but disarrayed room. Then he spots you. Your delicate form hidden amongst haphazardly arranged fabrics. He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you. 

He kneels down, overshadowing you as he gently caresses your cheek to wake you. 

“Babygirl?” he calls softly. Puffs of hot air escape your mouth. Labored breathing is all he can hear. All they can both hear. 

“Babygirl,” he calls again, shaking you slightly. To his relief, your eyes slowly open. They look sunken, tired, and devoid of their usual playful sparkle. 

“Dada…?” you question quietly. “m’cold” your murmur softly, eyes begging to be closed again. 

You’re not cold though. Not to Steve. You feel a million degrees too hot under his touch. 

“Babygirl…” he says for the third time, this time preparing to move you. “Dada’s gonna pick you up okay?” he explains, remaining calm so as to not worry you. “We're gonna go downstairs,” you feel limp in his arms, no different than if you were deep in sleep. But you are certainly awake, even if barely. He mumbles something to Bucky you don't make out, but his tone alone tells you he’s not happy.

Once you’re downstairs, he sets you on the kitchen counter. You don’t let go of him though, your body weight is leaned almost fully onto his.

“Can you sit up for me, babygirl?” he asks encouragingly, but gently. “Daddy and I are gonna check you out okay?” you groan a bit, still just feeling tired. 

“Here,” Bucky speaks up softly, snaking his arms around you, and taking Steve’s place in front of you. As you’re shifted from one body’s hold to another, it wakens you a bit. You almost go back to leaning fully onto his chest when you realize who’s holding you.

“Daddy?” you shift back a little to look up at him. One hand of his is resting at your hip, the other helping support the rest of your body.

“Hey, babydoll…” he says softly, voice drifting, and stomach sinking as he sees how sick you look.

He almost wishes he could somehow shut his hearing out. Your heartbeat is quicker than usual. He knew it better than his own. How it sounded while you slept, when you’d play, how it picks up when you laugh, giggling for breath and telling him ‘daddy, stop it tickles’ with the brightest grin lighting up your face. Now…now he can’t stand it. It’s thumping too fast. Faster than it should be for when his little girl hasn’t moved an inch herself. 

Why didn’t he notice it before? He thinks back to how heavily you held onto him when he carried you this morning. How quickly he was to interrupt you. He realizes you probably tried to tell him. And he didn’t listen. Even worse, he made you clean. Guilt seeps deep into his guts as he remembers how funny your voice sounded today. 

“Daddy,” you break him from his thoughts, he sees tears beginning to form in your doleful eyes. “Daddy m’sorry,” you breathe in sharply, beginning to cry “m’sorry didn't f-finish-i just-i gots so tireds daddy I’m-I'm sorry,” you sob pathetically, knowing you’ve disappointed him. 

Bucky’s face falls. 

All you had to do was one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that right. You weren’t being a good girl by disobeying him like that. Even if you felt bad, you feel you should have tried harder.

“Doll, no-” you cry sorries to him more, your own hands reaching to cover your shameful face. He catches them before you do, gently taking them into his and guiding them around his neck for you so you can be more level with his gaze. “Babydoll, look at daddy,” He pulls you, hands drawing you closer so he’s flush with you in between your legs. Needing to feel your skin, his right hand tenderly guides your face to look at him. “I’m not upset with you. Daddy’s not upset with you,” he reassures, silently pleading for you not to cry. 

“But-but-I didn’t cleans-I-I just-I-I not good girl,” you sob miserably at the admission, never wanting to be bad for him.

“My little girl, my sweet girl, no, please no” he assures, hating how skewed shut your eyes are. “That’s not true, Doll, it’s just not. Daddy…” he carefully wipes at the wet tears on your cheek, “Daddy should have known.” he admits shamefully. You finally blink your eyes open at him, a timidly unsure expression written on your face. “I should have known. You...you tried to tell daddy huh?” he takes one of your hands and gives it soft kisses. 

“N-n’your not mad at me?” you sniffle as your cries begin to slow down.

“No, Doll, never.” he couldn’t be, never for something like this. His mouth opens again, he wants to tell you how sorry he is. He’s the one who should be, but he only finds his own tongue twisted, unsure of how to fully express his remorse. Before he has time to puzzle the words together, Steve interrupts, thermometer in hand.

“Open wide, babygirl,” you do as he says. “tongue up,” he mimics the motion for you. The cold metal feels uncomfortable in your mouth. They must know this as Bucky squeezes your hand soothingly, and Steve tells you ‘just a little longer’ with a sympathetic gaze as he holds your jaw with the hand that’s not keeping the thermometer in place. 

When it beeps, Steve removes it and frowns when he reads the displayed numbers. 

“Can you tell us what hurts, princess?” Steve asks. You point your hand towards your neck. “Your throat?” he confirms, and you nod your head. “What else babygirl?” you then squeeze your eyes together, remembering how squished your brain feels.

“Head,” you mumble quietly, before crossing and rubbing your arms together in discomfort. “Everything.”

“Your body hurts? Feels sore?” He asks. You nod your head weakly at him, closing your eyes and wishing you could be laying down right now. Even just sitting somewhat upright felt hard at the moment. 

“Okay babygirl, why don’t you let Daddy take you to the bedroom,” Steve suggests. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” he smiles at you comfortingly, before placing a kiss on your forehead with his hand cradling the back of your head. 

“m’I sick?” you ask Bucky as he carries you to their room.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, Dada and I will help you feel better,” he carefully sets you on their large bed. 

It's soft. Yours is soft too, but Daddies always felt so much softer for some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to sleep next to your favorite people. He arranges the pillows and blankets around you to make you more comfortable, then slides next to you. You rest your head on his chest, almost instantly falling asleep again. 

Some time passes, particularly how much time is beyond you. All you knew in this moment, is how comfy Daddy felt.

After some time, Steve’s voice brings you back to reality. He instructs you to sit more upright so he can give you medicine. 

The odd color liquid he brings toward you makes you cringe. You can tell just from looks how bitter and unpleasant it will taste. You recoil into bucky, small hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt as you whine.

“Daddyyy…” you tug on Bucky's shirt more, trying to force your head into his flannel to hide from Steve and his icky medicine, practically begging Bucky to not make Steve give it to you.

“Doll,” Bucky chuckles a bit at your attempt to hide inside his outer shirt. He still holds you close, hands supporting you on your bottom as you have now completely crawled on top of him.

“Angel…you know I can still see you…right?” Steve teases.

“No you can’ts…m’not here” you proclaim, muffled into Bucky’s chest.

“The sooner you take it, the sooner it will be over, come on princess.” Steve encourages. You’re still not convinced and instead mumble out one word: ‘pill.’

For a second, Steve isn’t sure if he understood you correctly before his lips tighten with a displeased look on his face. 

You’ve had this conversation before. He thought surely by now you understood it, but he figured since you’re sick, it might be hard for your little head to remember. 

“Sweet girl, babies can’t take pills, you know that.” Steve explains patiently. You did know that. It was early on when Steve refused to let you take any medication you needed through a pill. It didn't matter what you needed, he was always able to find a way to get a liquid version of it from Uncle Bruce. Or, as you like to think, a much yuckier version of it. 

Still, you groan in disagreement, not wanting to taste something that bad, let alone when your throat hurt as much as it did. 

“Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel so much better.”

You shake your head against his chest, disagreeing with both of your daddies now. 

“it’s yucky dough daddy,” you whine.

“I know it’s yucky, babydoll,” Bucky pats at your back comfortingly while he thinks. He knows how hard this is for you, especially when you feel so bad. “Hey,” he peels you back from him a bit, unburying you from his shirt as he has an idea. “Look,”  he instructs, “Here,” he takes the small cap of medicine from Steve’s hands and–to your horror–throws it back in his mouth. You look at him in horror as the icky liquid disappears from the cap into Bucky's mouth. You stare at him wildly. 

Daddy’s crazy, you think.

“There. See? Daddy took it. It’s not so bad.” Bucky says nonchalantly in an attempt to convenience you. He hands the empty cap back to Steve so he can refill it. Steve shares your look of bewilderment, before you can't help but break out a smile at his action.  

“Daddy,” you giggle at him.

“What?” He fakes surprise. “Daddy took it, so you can too.” he assures happily, taking the now filled-again cap from Steve. Still, you recoil from it a bit. 

“Yeah…” you look between him and the medicine suspiciously. “but daddy also drinks other yucky stuffs,” you defend, referring to the strong-smelling caramel-colored stuff he likes to drink sometimes. Daddy never lets you have that. 

Bucky chuckles a bit when he realizes what you meant. 

“Okay, true…and little baby definitely can’t have that stuff…” he says pointedly. “but this,” he gestures the cap towards you. “you have to take.” You look between him and Steve warily. 

“Please angel, I know you can do it. Do it for Daddy and Dada princess,” Steve encourages. You agree this time, mentally pepping yourself up and telling yourself if daddy could do it, so could you. 

You scrunch your eyes closed as Bucky brings it closer to your lips. You feel Steve’s hands reach down to hold your face. One hand holding your jaw up firmly, with the other around the back of your head. This way, you aren't able to move should you change your mind. Steve knew you’d be a good girl and take it, but he always had to be sure just in case–not unlike what has happened before–you decide to spit it out.

When it hits your tongue, it’s just as yucky as you had imagined. Maybe even worse. Instinctively, your face contorts in displeasure as you squirm around from the gross sensation. 

Steve and Bucky hold you firmly in place the whole time and instruct you to swallow. 

Once you do, Steve asks you to open your mouth for him, just to make sure you really swallowed it all.

“Good girl, my brave little girl. I knew you could do it.” Steve praises you. “Dada’s so proud of you.” he beams at you, making you smile. 

“Daddy proud too?” you ask shyly to Bucky.

“Super proud doll. The proudest of them all.” he winks at you, making you giggle a little bit, but it tickles your throat, causing you to start having a coughing fit. 

Bucky brings a sippy on their nightstand to your lips and lets you drink some cold water. It helps calm your throat. 

Steve asks if there’s anything else you want right now. You ask for some juice in your favorite sippy, and he lets you know he’ll bring it after he’s done making some soup for you.

Bucky gets out of the bed, making you confused. You promptly grab at his hands. 

“Where going?” you look up to him, eyes big and sad. 

“I was just gonna go help Dada, why don’t you get some rest, Doll?” He says, knowing it’s what you need most right now. To his surprise though, you don’t let go.

“Nooo,” you say, tugging feebly at his hands. “Stay…wanna…can…cuddle daddy?” you ask bashfully, suddenly feeling shy. 

Bucky’s eyes turn soft. Soft. Just like his little girl. Soft. Like how your voice always sounded. Soft. Something, an emotion, a feeling, a sensation, that only you made him experience. 

Even after he made you clean your playroom, even after he snapped at you and didn’t listen, you still asked in your softest voice, doleful eyes, and small grabby hands if he would cuddle with you. Sometimes–he’s not sure what he did to deserve you. 

“Of course, princess,” he climbs back into the bed with you and you grin happily as you curl yourself around him just like before. He suggests again that you to get some rest, but that too comes with protest. 

“Wanna watch ‘toons wif Daddy…can we’s?” you ask. Bucky smiles to himself and kisses your head. Even though he knows you’ll likely fall fast asleep no more than five minutes into it, there’s nothing more he’d like more than watch shows with his little girl

He turns on your favorite show and makes sure you’re perfectly comfortable, tucked around him and under blankets. 

“Doll?” he whispers softly after a few minutes. To his surprise, you’re still awake. You mumble a questioning ‘hmm?’ he takes a few seconds to respond, trying to gather the words correctly for you. He breathes in. 

“I’m sorry Daddy didn’t listen earlier,” he admits, lips ghosting the top of your head, before placing a kiss there. “I should have listened.”

“It’s okies Daddy,” you hum sleepily into his chest. It wasn’t okay. He knew that. But you—you and your never-ending soft and kind heart—forgave him. And that’s all that mattered to him. He truly was more than lucky to have a little girl like you.

“I love you Daddy,” you squeeze him softly, voice quiet. And even though he can’t see you, he knows you're smiling when you say it. 

Tonight you wanted to watch Piglet’s Big Movie. The adorable pink character and his lovely friends were so silly, always bringing you comfort. 

The stress of the week had done a number on you, but luckily you had two adoring caregivers who had no plans other than giving you their full and undivided attention tonight. Steve and Bucky sat next to each other on the deep couch, with you sitting on Bucky’s lap and holding Steve’s hand. 

One of the things that they loved the most about being your caregivers was the physical affection. They were so used to using their bodies and strength for fighting. Before you, they rarely felt this level of peace and love from a single touch. They had each other, of course, but your sweet, gentle touch was something neither of them could replicate. And they were no match for your excited kisses whenever they came back from a mission. 

Bucky pressed a kiss to your head or shoulder every now and then. How could he resist with you sitting so sweetly in his lap? You squeezed Steve’s hand a few times throughout the movie. Not so much on purpose, Piglet getting in trouble just made you so nervous. Whenever he felt the squeeze, Steve gently rubbed his thumb along your hand. 

Toward the end of the movie, FRIDAY interrupted to say that dinner was delivered. Bucky volunteered to get the food and gently placed you in Steve’s lap. Steve couldn’t hide his excited smile at getting his turn to hold you. 

He enveloped you in his big, warm arms and landed a few kisses on your cheek as you got comfortable in his lap. You giggled from the kisses. 

“Dada, stop! Is movie time!” 

Steve paused his kissing and pouted out his lip, copying what you did whenever you didn’t get your way. “Can’t a Dada kiss his baby when he wants to? Especially when this baby has been so good lately and looks so cute?”

He pouted again and gave you puppy eyes. 

“Okay,” you agreed. You held up your index and middle finger. “Two more kisses, Dada. Then movie.”

You secretly wanted more kisses, but you were practicing your bossy voice. 

Steve took his time placing one kiss on each cheek and then let you watch in peace. 

A few minutes later, Bucky came back with the food and placed it into the oven to keep it warm. He sat back down on the couch and opened his arms towards you. 

“Okay, give me my baby back.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Your baby?”

“Yes, my baby. Give me my baby back.”

Steve tilted your and his bodies so you pointed ever so slightly away from Bucky. “I’m not sure what you mean, but this is my baby I’m holding here and they’re staying right where they are.”

You held both hands over your mouth, trying to keep in your giggles. You didn’t want to stop the play fight they were having right now. Your daddies could be so silly and stubborn sometimes. 

Bucky and Steve noticed you enjoyed this and kept going to hear your giggles.

Bucky leaned forward and furrowed his brow. “This little angel is my baby.”

“No, this little sweetheart is my baby.”

“Mine.”

“Mine.”

“Mine!”

Steve jutted out his chin, “Who did my baby run to first at the park last week?”

“That’s only because you were ahead of me!”

“Well, maybe I ran faster because I love them more than you do.”

“Oh you little pun-“

“Stop! Stop, Daddies!” You wiggled out of Steve’s lap and placed your hands on both of their arms. They broke their intense staring contest to pay attention to you, a slightly amused expression on their faces. “Am baby for two you! Dada’s baby and Baba’s baby.” You moved their arms so you could sit in both of their laps at once.

“Aww is that right?” Bucky placed his arm around you and Steve. He kissed your temple. “Baba’s sorry for getting his little baby all worked up.”

“Dats okay, Baba. Know you just love me.” You rewarded his apology by snuggling into his embrace. 

“Dada’s sorry too,” Steve began. “I was just jealous because Baba got to hold you for the whole movie!” He wrapped his arm around you, subtly moving you away from Bucky’s lap. 

You didn’t notice Steve’s sneaky behavior. “Dats okay, Dada. We just have to share!”

Bucky did notice. “Hey you’re stealing my little angel away from me again!”

Before they could start another argument, you put your hands around Bucky’s face, copying his strict Baba mode. “Is Daddy’s turn to hold me! We ‘nuggle tonight okay, Baba?”

“Promise, Angel?” he pouted.

You nodded vigorously and sealed the promise with a kiss. That night, you finished the movie(Steve nearly cried at the end) and had the most delicious dinner. Your daddies worked together to get the three of you ready for bedtime. One of them would be in the shower while the other helped you with your bubble bath or brushing your teeth and putting on jammies. You gave Bucky his bedtime snuggles as promised and Steve had FRIDAY turn off the lights after you were all tucked in. 

“Night night, Baba. Night night, Daddy.”

“G’night, Angel. Night, Stevie.”

“Sweet dreams, Angel. Night, Buck.”

You all got cozy and tried to fall asleep, but your Baba had a question.

“So why did you run to Dada first at the park?”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

Bucky wandered into your playroom, leaning against the doorframe and smiling down at you. "Whatcha up to, munchkin?" he asked as he took in your lego creation.

You bounced excitedly on the balls of your feet. "Lookit, Daddy! I'm making 'Punzel's tower from Tangled!"

"Wow," he said, pursing his lips in amusement. "That's really something, bunny." He grinned as you mashed another couple blocks together. You weren't so much focusing on structure as you were simply trying to make the tallest...thing you could by using every lego you had and making it all not fall over. "Well, I think it's time for tower builders to take a bath."

"Don't need a bath, please, okay? Gotta build," you said determinedly, focused on your masterpiece.

"Tower builders gotta make sure they're clean and rested so they can keep building tomorrow," Bucky said playfully, sauntering in to the room and walking up next to you. You turned to him, your best Bambi eyes on while your hands were full of blocks.

"Please, Daddy? Please can I keep playing?" you asked, adding your best cutesy voice in the mix. You raised your arm and took a tentative sniff, then looked back at him hopefully. "I don't smell bad!"

Bucky's laugh burst out of him and he reached for you, picking you up and setting you on his hip. He took a theatrical sniff of you as well, then made an exaggerated grossed out face. "UGH, don't know what you mean. You smell terrible." He grinned impishly at you, letting you know that he was teasing. You giggled and wiggled in his arms.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes-huh!"

"Daddy, you silly!"

"I may be silly, but you need a bath just in case it's not my nose being silly."

"But...what about da tower?"

"You and I can work on it tomorrow morning after breakfast. How 'bout that?"

"OKAY!" you cheered, tossing the remaining bricks in your hand into the massive pile still on the floor. Bucky kept his sigh in- the playroom was allowed to stay in various states of disarray, that was the deal. But he still shut the door tightly on his way out so he didn't have to look at it.

He took you to the bathroom, bouncing you on the way and singing a little nonsense song about giving baby bunnies a bath, making you giggle and wrinkle your nose like a bunny.

"What would you like tonight, hm? Bubbles or bath bomb?" Daddy asked as you crossed the threshold to the bathroom. He set you down on the ground while you thought. It was a very tough decision and it had been a long day of building that tower.

"Ummm...bubbles please," you finally decided, pointing to the purple bottle that smelled like lavender. "Can I has the purple bubbles please?"

"Yes, you can. Good manners, baby," Bucky praised, leaning down to give you a kiss on the top of your head before starting the bath and pouring in your favorite "purple" bubbles. Just then, Steve stopped by the doorway, having just heard Bucky's last sentence.

"Someone's got good manners?" he said, grinning at you. "You wouldn't happen to know who that someone was, would you angel?"

"ME! It was ME," you said delightfully, wiggling happily. "PLEASE," you added smugly, with pride. Steve laughed.

"Yeah, those are some good manners, alright," Papa said. "Do you wanna pick out jammies tonight?"

Exhausted at the idea of having to make another decision so soon after the whole bubbles/bath bomb choice, you shook your head, putting your fingers in your mouth. "You pick please," you said, your words a bit garbled by your digits. Bucky gently pulled your fingers out of your mouth.

"No fingers baby," he reminded you. "You need a paci?"

You shook your head stubbornly as the smell of the lavender bubbles was already starting to make you sleepy and you weren’t ready to give in yet. "No, no need paci, 'm a big girl, Daddy," you stated, blinking heavily twice. Daddy and Papa exchanged a quick grin before focusing back on you.

"Okay, big girl," Daddy said patiently with a smile. "You go potty while Papa and I pick out jammies, okay?" They left you alone to take care of your business while Steve went to go get your pajamas, and Bucky went on the hunt for the nearest paci. He slipped it into his pocket- just in case. You were finished by the time he came back.

"Alright, Trouble, arms up," Bucky said. You did as he asked and he gently pulled your teeshirt over your head, going slower as the fabric neared your eyes. “Boo!” he said suddenly, whipping the shirt off so you could see. You squealed and giggled- you loved it when he did that. He grinned and helped you shimmy out of your soft blue leggings. After quickly testing the water once more, he turned off the spout and helped you in. 

“Can we play dinoswrawrs together, Daddy?” you asked excitedly, splashing around a bit in your exuberance. You had recently developed a love of dinosaurs after going to the museum with your daddies. 

“As soon as we’re done washing, we can,” he said, quickly squirting some of your favorite baby wash onto a soft cloth. He handed you a couple of your plastic dino tub toys with his free hand, which kept you happily occupied while he cleaned you all over. You were very good, tilting your chin up when he told you, although you did bring your dinos up to eye level and pretend they were flying while he scrubbed under your chin and behind your ears. 

“Ready for the waterfall?” Daddy asked, reaching over and filling a big plastic cup with fresh warm water. 

“YEAH!” you cheered, tilting your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Here it comes!” Bucky carefully poured the warm water over your hair, making sure that he was avoiding your face and eyes. You never noticed how nervous he was to wash your hair- he was so afraid of getting soap in your eyes- because he turned it into a game about a waterfall that you absolutely loved. He would joke that the shampoo was the bubbles from the waterfall and that he had to pop them all, and you would giggle the entire time and hold perfectly still because you wanted your Daddy to win at popping all the bubbles. Then one more waterfall to rinse your hair and you were both home free. 

You took some time to play dinosaurs together, or dinoswrawrs as you called them in little space, screeching with laughter every time Bucky made a dino pop up out of the water or dive off the side of the tub. After a couple minutes of delightful play, he moved to pick you up out of the tub. 

“Alright, Dino Baby, time to get out,” he said, helping you out of the warm water. He quickly wrapped your dinosaur hooded towel around you, chuckling as he pulled the hood over your wet hair and you gave your best triumphant dino roar in response. He rubbed you all over, drying you off, then stood you in front of him in the mirror while he carefully dried and combed out your wet hair. You practiced your dino faces and roaring in the mirror while he did it- it was fantastic. 

Finally Bucky turned you around and picked you up, plopping you down on the counter. “Alright, show me those dino teeth,” he said. You happily obliged, and he brushed your teeth meticulously, laughing again when you roared triumphantly when it was all over. 

Steve was standing outside the bathroom for the final part of the brushing, trying unsuccessfully to look unamused. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping her calm down, not winding her up?” he asked his husband, one eyebrow arched playfully. 

Bucky shrugged and grinned. “Hey, the Dinosaur wants what the Dinosaur  wants,” he said, swooping you off the counter while you giggled madly. “Alright Dino Baby, you ready for your dino scales?” he said to you, meaning of course your pajamas. You roared in answer as he snorted a laugh and handed you off to Steve. 

“Okay, Baby Dinosaur, no more roaring tonight,” Papa said gently as he took you into his and Daddy’s room while Bucky stayed behind to clean up the bathroom. 

“I a GOOD dinoswrawr, Papa,” you explained. 

“You are a very good dinosaur, but we don’t want to wake up the other dinosaurs that might be asleep, right?”

“Right!” 

“So no more roaring tonight?”

“No more tonight, Papa!”

“That’s my good Baby Dinosaur,” he praised with a grin. He laid you down carefully on the bed and pulled out your sleepytime lotion. He only uncovered the parts of you he was working on so you wouldn’t get cold. He was tempted to tickle you, but he knew that would only get you worked back up, so he refrained. 

“Do you know what stories you want tonight, Princess?” he asked as he finished off your toes. 

“Ummmm...dump trucks please?” you asked. “And I in here wif you and Daddy please?”

“You wanna sleep with me and Daddy tonight?” 

“Yes, please!”

“Okay, Princess, you can sleep with us tonight. And what story do you want Daddy to read?”

“Um...Princess and Frog please!”

“Good choices and good manners!” Papa praised enthusiastically. “Okay upsie-daisy,” he said, helping you to sit up so he could rub lotion on your back. Since he had to move the towel away to reach you, he worked quickly, afraid that you were going to get too cold. “Arms up, buttercup,” he said, ready to pull your top over your head. You did as he said, and he followed up with the bottoms and a pair of warm socks. He always insisted on you wearing warm socks to bed, even though you usually lost them in the night with your wiggling. 

As soon as you were dressed, you hopped off the edge of the bed. Steve immediately intercepted you, pulling you back up into his arms. He knew your tricks all too well. 

“Papa!” you whined and wiggled. “Gotta get Jellybean!”

“Daddy will get her, baby, it’s time to get into bed,” he said patiently, walking around to his side of the bed. You clung to his neck tightly. 

“Ummm...need water!” you said, eyeballing the bed as if it was your worst enemy. 

“Would you look at that,” Bucky said, suddenly strolling into the room with a face-splitting grin, a sippy cup in one hand and Jellybean in the other. “Got you water already, Dino baby.”

Before you could protest that no, you needed OTHER water and that one was no good, Papa gently plopped down on the bed, you snuggled firmly in one arm so you landed in the middle with him on your right. He laid back, pulling you with him so you were laying down. You wiggled and gave a soft whimper of protest even though the bed was so soft and felt so nice...

Daddy tucked Jellybean into your left arm while Papa gently rubbed circles on your tummy. Despite your best efforts to keep it in, you let out a big yawn that you immediately tried to cover up by declaring yourself ‘not tired’. They both ignored that, too used to your antics. 

“Which books?” Daddy asked quietly. 

“Goodnight, Construction Site, and Princess and the Frog,” Papa responded, never missing a beat as he continued to rub soothing circles. You gave a half hearted wiggle as you tried to escape, but it just felt so lovely...Your eyes closed, but only for a second. 

Bucky found the books in the basket they kept in their room for you and handed them to Steve. Steve opened up Goodnight Construction Site and began reading. You found yourself turning into him and snuggling as he read. You weren’t really all that interested in trucks, but you liked the cool names of all of them and you liked the way Papa said good night to each of them. He had the best good night voice ever. You didn’t even notice Daddy getting ready for bed in their big closet until he slipped into bed next to you, sandwiching you in between them, towards the end of the book. You rubbed your nose with the back of your hand, trying to disguise another yawn, before wiggling around to get even more comfortable. 

Just as Papa finished his book, Daddy started his. They had learned the hard way that it took more than one story to get you down. You sighed, giving up and snuggling into Bucky’s right side, moving Jellybean around so she could hear the story too, as Steve quickly and quietly got ready for bed himself, snuggling back in as soon as he was done. You were lured away on the bayou by talking frogs and magic spells. Daddy did the best voices for stories. You wiggled and snuggled into the blankets as you felt the veil of slumber drifting over you, trying to find the perfect position. You didn’t notice Papa using the remote to turn almost all the lights off and gently tucking the blankets around you so you’d stay warm. You didn’t notice the way Daddy subtly shifted so you were safely snuggled in the crook of his arm, or the fact that he had the last bit of the book memorized so he could run his fingers through your hair after turning off his bedside light.

“Wake up babygirl.” you hear Bucky’s voice. You turn to see him, and Steve, looking down at you.

“Are you ready to come out of timeout?” Steve asks. Immediately, tears start streaming down your face as you remember last night. You nod pitifully. Steve kneels beside you. “Did you learn you lesson?” he asks tentatively, wiping the tears from your cheeks,

“Y-yes” you croak out. You can’t help but lean into his warm touch as his large hand holds your face. You’re in so much pain, even more so than when you must have passed out from exhaustion last night.

“Yes, what?” Bucky requests, and you break.

“Yes, dada! Yes, daddy! I’m-I’m sorry! M’sorry I was bad!” you’re sobbing uncontrollably now. “I-I’ve learned my lesson, please-please just let me out!”

Bucky is kneeling on the other side of you now, gently turning your head towards him, hand cupping your face. 

“And what lesson is that doll? What did you learn?” 

“T-t’not run away, I-I won't d-do it again! I-I promise! I-I’ll be good now, I’ll be good, I-j-just please don’t leave me alone again! Please daddy!”

“Okay babygirl, hey, it’s okay now, no more punishment,” he helps wipe away more of your tears, caressing your face now with both hands. You’re too hysterical to notice only one side of your face feels warm.

“We believe you babygirl. We’re going to untie you now. Just sit still while we do okay, angel?” Steve speaks. You can't help but cherish his sweet words to you, as you melt further into their touch.

“Okay dada” you say, tears slowing down. Steve mumbles a good girl and caresses your head one more time before they begin to untie you. You feel relief. Not just because you’re being freed from your binds, but because you know they’re no longer upset with you. They were so mad, so…mean before, and now they’re mumbling praises while freeing you. It makes you feel…content. 

Steve gently picks up your limp form. You have no energy. You barely ate a few bites before you got sent to this room. Steve helps wrap your arms around his neck as your head rests on his shoulder, legs supported around his waist. He carries you downstairs and sits on the couch with you still entangled around him.

He could see how exhausted you were. He hated it. The last thing Steve wanted was for you to be punished on your very first day here, but, what else could they have done? You tried to run away from him, from both of them. You had to learn that it wasn’t acceptable to do that. Soon you'd realize they were doing it to protect you. They could only keep you safe if you're with them, so you have to learn not to run away. 

You hear distant clatter from the kitchen as you sit with Steve. 

He begins rubbing up and down your back. He’s so warm. He wraps a blanket around both of you as he continues tenderly stroking you. He softly kneads at your shoulders and back and rubs the sensitive skin around your arms and ankles. He gently shushes you as some residual tears wet his shirt underneath you. You feel heavy under his touch, but in a good way, as your muscles relax for the first time since you got here. You fall asleep under his touch. 

Steve continues to massage you through your sleep. You feel so delightful on him as tiny huffs of air escape from you. He silently looks forward to the days ahead where you’ll lay atop him and bucky, just like this, all the time. When you’ll wake up to give him soft kisses before asking if you can go play with your dolls. Where you’ll trot through the house showing them your latest drawing. Where you’ll cuddle next to them on this very couch to watch a movie. He knows it’ll take time for you to adjust fully, but he also knows that you easily adapt to them. He knows this because you're perfect for them. 

Steve quietly wakes you from your slumber as breakfast is ready. He places you in the same spot you were just hours ago. Now, there’s a plate full of apples and bananas with a plentiful side of peanut butter and yogurt. Normally, you wouldn’t have picked something as healthy, but you’ll take what you can get. This time, Steve and Bucky eat along with you. It’s quiet while you eat, and after you’ve finished your second cup of milk, Bucky speaks. 

“Feel better babygirl?” 

“Yes daddy…thank you.” you say quietly. You probably shouldn’t be thanking them–definitely shouldn't, but…after your much needed massage and full belly, you can’t help but feel…grateful. 

“You want some more milk?” Bucky asks. You look towards your almost empty sipping cup, and shake your head before remembering to reply. 

“Uh-no…daddy.”

“I think you’d feel even better getting cleaned up, huh doll?” you look up to him at that. 

A shower. 

Oh how nice that sounded right now. You’ve been in the same clothes since yesterday and you honestly feel gross. 

“I-I’d like that…please.” While Steve cleans up, Bucky leads you to their bathroom. When you walk in you notice some neatly folded feminine-looking clothes laying on top of the counter. You stand in the threshold admiring the spacious bathroom again while Bucky starts running a bath. 

“Uhm…I’m okay with just taking a shower” you offer, hoping he’ll leave soon. He looks over his shoulder at you.

“Come here, sit while I get it ready for you.” he motions towards the cloth-covered toilet seat. Did he not hear you? You hesitantly comply. Guess you are taking a bath. He tests its temperature with his right hand, and after there’s enough water to cover the bottom, he turns to you with open arms.

“Come on, let’s get you undressed,” your stomach drops, eyes wide as you freeze. You glance at the door evaluating your escape route. “Don’t be like that, doll.” he orders, a displeased expression on his face. 

“No, I-I mean I can bathe myself…I-I promise…please.” you fret, beginning to shake. 

He sighs, “Look at me,” he demands, “I’m not going to hurt you. Remember what Dada said? We’re going to take care of you…you know why?” You shake your head. 

“Because you’re our little girl. And little girls like you need help taking baths. Now I’m not going to hurt you, but I'm also not going to ask again.” he warns. “don’t make this harder for yourself.” his inflection alone frightens you. You don’t want to find out how this could be any worse than it already is, but you really don’t want to be naked and vulnerable in front of some scary man–one you barely know, and one who is literally holding you captive. 

“N-no please, I-I understand I’m your…little girl, but I-I really can clean myself, I promise I can.” You reason clumsily.

“You’re not listening to me, doll. I’m helping you take a bath, Either you get in this tub, or you get another punishment,” he threatens, “and don’t think I’ll go as easy on you as Dada let last night.” his abrasive threat scares you to your core. What could be worse than being tied and locked up for more than ten hours? You’re at a complete loss for words, paralyzed as he begins carefully peeling off your clothes–slowly. 

To Bucky, it’s anything but. He waited for this moment for months. He’s going to cherish every moment he can. He revels in every inch of skin that gets revealed as he pulls your sleep gown off–the same one Steve dressed you in the night before last when you were still unconscious and unaware of Steve’s enamored gaze. 

“She’s so beautiful, Buck” he runs his hands along your bare sides, sliding down to your outer thighs, pausing when his eyes meet your naked mound. His pupils are blown, any trace of ultramarine gone as his eyes rake your bare form. Bucky places a hand on Steve’s back, silently agreeing with him as he gives him a smile. 

Steve releases a content–yet shaky–breath, before clasping your ankles and moving your legs up so he could swaddle your bottom half into the princess-decorated pull-up. 

Bucky finds himself thinking the same thing Steve said that night, with the same salacious look in his eye as he rids you of your gown. Goosebumps adorn your skin and Bucky relishes in how upturned your head is, eyes ostensibly focused on the plain white ceiling above. No, you weren’t just beautiful, you were fucking adorable.

Once he’s done, he diligently sets you into the warm water. You curl your knees up, trying to maintain a smidge of modesty.

“You want some bubbles?” he asks. 

“Yes,” You answer quickly, wanting anything that helps cover you. “please.” you add shakily.

Whatever kind he adds smells wonderful, and quickly produces enough to cover the clear water. He lets you sit there for a while, watching even after the water is turned off. You lightly pat at the bubbles around your legs, not daring to meet his attentive gaze. After a bit, a small basket is presented to you. He asks if you’d like to play with any toys. The container has a couple different multicolored rubber duckies, a small turtle, and a whale. You look between him and the toys, before picking out one, its cute face calling to you. You let it float around you. At least you’re not completely alone in the tub anymore. Bucky seems satisfied with your choice, happy that you took his offering. 

“Hey there,” you look towards the door to see Steve peeking around. Great, now they’re both here. He walks besides Bucky’s sitting form and leans down, hands on his knees. “how’s it going?” he asks, noticing your wary manner.

“She’s feeling a little shy, but she’ll get used to it.” Bucky responds.

“No need to be embarrassed angel, daddies always help their little girl take a bath. Would be dangerous if we left you all alone,” he says in that patronizing tone he uses. “Have you washed her yet?”

“No, not yet,” Bucky looks to your idle and unmoving form. “babygirl, if you’re not going to play with your toy then it’s time to wash up.”

“I-I can do it.” you think maybe if Steve hears you, he’ll be on your side. Instead, his face falls, and he addresses you by your name.

“I know that’s not true. You may think it is, but it’s not. Now you need to be a good girl and let Daddy clean you up. Besides, the sooner he starts, the sooner it’ll be over. After that,” Steve postures himself up, “we’ll talk about how you need to listen to Daddy and I, and not talk back. Okay?” he looks at you expectantly. You feel defeated that your small protest only resulted in him being up displeased with you.

“I-okay Dada” he purses a smile at you before letting you both know he’ll be in the living room while you finish up.

Once he’s gone Bucky starts shedding his outer layer. Your heart rate skyrockets, terrified he plans to get in there with you. But after his jacket is off, he proceeds to roll up his sleeves and remove a glove from his left hand. You’re not sure how you’ve never noticed it before, but his arm is quite literally made of metal. Horizontal pleats make up his forearm as far as you can see. Your eyes follow its sleek design to see his hands and fingers contain more fine lines and intricate folds. Its sleekness catches the light on certain parts, and you’re just…staring at it.

You watch it as he lathers up a soft-looking loofa, and holds his arms out to you, silently beckoning you to come closer to his side of the large tub. When you look up into his eyes, you’re met with…concern laced in his. He subtly retracts his metal arm, so that his right one is the only one reaching to you. 

“Come on, Doll. Let’s get you clean.” This time his words don’t feel like a demand, rather…an invitation. You scoot yourself towards him and let him work. He gingerly takes his time running the bubbly white suds over your body. You try not to wince at the iciness of his left hand when it touches you. After a bit, it seems to warm up some due to the water. When he gets to your more private areas, you tense. “It’s okay,” he softly reassures throughout, handing you the tiny toy you picked. It helps, but you can’t help but grow hotter than the water around you from being so exposed.

Once he’s done and begins drying you with a giant towel. You realize you’ve barely lifted a finger, and despite how humiliating it was, you do feel a lot better.

You offer to dress yourself, but that suggestions is only met with a scowl. Again, the clothes are obviously something they bought as it’s nothing you own. It's a light-colored onesie with delicate flowers making up the pattern. Small ruffles decorate the bottom, making it look almost dress-like. You’re pleased regardless when he helps your unsteady legs step into underwear and leggings. Finally, as you hold onto his shoulders for support, he slips on some frilly socks that match your onesie perfectly. 

It felt comfortable and when you catch a glimpse of yourself when leaving the bathroom, you almost think your attire looks…cute.

Once you’re back in the living room, Bucky and Steve take a great deal of time explaining the rules to you. 

And there are a lot of them.

The main ones being about how you shouldn’t run away from your daddies. How you should always listen and do what daddies say. How you must always be polite and keep your manners, especially when talking to them. How you need to remember to call them Daddy and Dada, because that’s what we are princess. 

It’s hard to keep track of everything they’re saying. They must pick up on this because Steve reassures you that he knows you’re still going to need time to learn. They end the discussion by sternly reminding you if you are to break any of these rules, especially intentionally, that you’ll get punished. 

They then decide to give you a proper tour of the house. You’ve seen most of the first floor except an office room they quickly show you. There’s a door with several locks, much like the front door, that leads to what must be a basement, but they tell you it’s off-limits and that you’re never to go down there. 

“Why not?” you ask innocently.

“Because Daddy said so,” Bucky replies sternly.

“And because…” Steve leans down to your level after giving a glare to Bucky. “there are dangerous things down there. Things that could hurt you. Daddy and Dada have stuff down there little girls can’t be around. Okay?” You nod your head.

“Okay Dada.” You say. Steve leans up again to see Bucky now giving him a look.

“What? She needs to know, and we should be honest with her if we expect the same from her.” he defends. Honest? He didn’t even really tell you what was down there. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and grunts at Steve as they begin leading you upstairs. There are two rooms connected by a loft that overlooks the living room, and a small bathroom. 

They show you your “playroom” first. It’s the room you must have been in last night as you notice the haunting chair in the corner. The rest of the room is quite…lively though. They let go of the hold on your hands and let you roam around its expanse. It’s lightly colored with accents of pinks and other pastels. A hexagonal tent is in one of the corners with pillows and blankets stacked on the inside. There are several shelves with neatly placed boxes and a variety of toys peeking through them. There’s a table to the side with coloring books stacked on top and a fluffy rug right in the middle. 

“What do you think, babygirl?” Steve probs.

“It’s…nice.” It’s certainly much more than nice. You’ve secretly always wanted a space like this before. You imagine your childhood self would be running in circles around the room if it were given to you. 

Steve takes your hand again and leads you to your bedroom. It’s even more beautiful than your playroom. The color schemes are similar, but pink stands out even more here. There’s a queen size bed in the middle with ruffles covering the sides of it. It reminds you of your outfit. There’s a couch opposite of the bed also supplied with plenty of fluffy looking pillows. On the other side of the room is a…crib. When you notice it you look up to Steve quizzically.

“That’s just in case you’re feeling extra little,” He explains. “you can pick whichever one you want to sleep in babygirl, I promise,” he beams down at you, then lets go of your hand prompting you forward into the room “go on, look around.” 

You want to jump on the bed. You bet it would be so much fun. You feel as though they probably wouldn't like that though. As you get closer to your bed you notice something familiar. No–it’s more than just familiar. You know exactly what it is. 

It’s your stuffie. 

The same one you’ve cuddled with for as long as you can remember. You quickly pick it up, inspecting it for injuries. When all is good, you clutch it to your chest, hugging it tightly. You missed it. And as you inhale its scent you’re reminded of home…your home…where you’re supposed to be. 

No. Actually, you’re supposed to be at work. Right now. Instead, you’re in a foreign place and you’re surrounded by unfamiliar things and you’ve just been given a list of strict rules to follow and you’re not allowed to leave and and and and-

You turn around rashly and start making for the door. Steve is quick to pick you up, securing you to his side. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks sternly before noticing your crinkled eyebrows. “Hey,” he pets the back of your head. “What’s wrong, angel? Something wrong with the room? Something scare you?” He peers around, looking for any abnormalities. You shake your head hard, beginning to get hysterical. 

“N-No! I-I need to go home! I’m supposed to be home! I-I have to work! I’m supposed to be at work, I-I need-I have-” you’re not really sure what you’re saying and you’re pretty sure you start to not make sense as Steve carries you to the bed and sets you down, firmly holding your arms. You’re not even trying to get away from him, you just feel so…overwhelmed. Everything around you is so new. You don’t really understand anything. You do but you don’t. You’re confused. You’re disoriented. You’re scattered. you’re-

“I-I’m scared!” you finally cry out, tears streaming down your face. You feel like you can’t breathe at all. You must somehow communicate that to Steve as he tenderly tries to get you to look at him, both hands engulfing your wet face. 

“Babygirl,” he calls you by your name gently, “hey, it’s okay. Look at me. You’re okay. Just breathe with me, can you do that for me?” he encourages. He asks you to mimic his breathing. It’s hard at first, but eventually, your synchronized breathing fills the room, though yours is still shaky and you’re still crying. Steve picks you up again, bouncing and shushing you lightly. He whispers how you’re okay, and how we got you babygirl, it’s okay. You’re home now. You don’t have to think about any of that, just focus on breathing in, and breathing out, babygirl. Just like that. There you go. Good girl. You’re doing so good. Just keep breathing, don’t think about anything else. Dada’s got you. You’re okay.

Steve continues talking and bouncing you as you concentrate on his words, breathing in and breathing out. 

You should be pushing him away, attempting to get out of his hold and break for the door again. Yet, his essence is the only thing grounding you. His consoling words are the only thing you hear, his encompassing hug the only thing you can feel. Your body and mind crave his soothing embrace, both tired from fighting the past day. You don’t want to give in, you aren’t–but right now you can’t be burdened with concerns when the only thing that feels right is…

“Dada” you muffle into his neck. Steve hears it’s perfectly clear though.

“Yeah angel,” he continues caressing you. “Dada’s got you. It’s okay. It’s all okay.” he carefully shifts you so he can look at you. Your face is puffy and wet, your lips are quivering and your body is wholly slumped into his hold. “How about we watch a movie?” he suggests tentatively. “anything you want, you choose.” his suggestion seems to work, distracting you from your current thoughts to pick out what you might want to watch. After a moment of diligent selection, you decide. 

“Belle…” 

Steve smiles, “Beauty and the Beast?” you nod your head. “Okay, babygirl. That’s just perfect, let’s go.” he carries you downstairs where Bucky has a bottle of warm milk ready for you. 

This time, you don’t fight Bucky when he delicately moves you onto his lap. The once vulnerable position now feels…welcoming. Bucky does the hard work of holding the heavy bottle up, and when he presses the tip of it to your lips, your mouth opens almost naturally. In the present moment, it’s as if your mind has almost no say in your actions. You feel fuzzy. Not…cloudy, like when you first awoke to that unfamiliar dark room, terrified and confused. No, now you feel as though your mind has no other responsibility than to succumb to the demands of your…daddies. And currently, all that consisted of was suckling on the soft tip pressed gently on your tongue, and remaining nestled in Bucky’s lap. 

“Wake up babygirl.” you hear Bucky’s voice. You turn to see him, and Steve, looking down at you.

“Are you ready to come out of timeout?” Steve asks. Immediately, tears start streaming down your face as you remember last night. You nod pitifully. Steve kneels beside you. “Did you learn you lesson?” he asks tentatively, wiping the tears from your cheeks,

“Y-yes” you croak out. You can’t help but lean into his warm touch as his large hand holds your face. You’re in so much pain, even more so than when you must have passed out from exhaustion last night.

“Yes, what?” Bucky requests, and you break.

“Yes, dada! Yes, daddy! I’m-I’m sorry! M’sorry I was bad!” you’re sobbing uncontrollably now. “I-I’ve learned my lesson, please-please just let me out!”

Bucky is kneeling on the other side of you now, gently turning your head towards him, hand cupping your face. 

“And what lesson is that doll? What did you learn?” 

“T-t’not run away, I-I won't d-do it again! I-I promise! I-I’ll be good now, I’ll be good, I-j-just please don’t leave me alone again! Please daddy!”

“Okay babygirl, hey, it’s okay now, no more punishment,” he helps wipe away more of your tears, caressing your face now with both hands. You’re too hysterical to notice only one side of your face feels warm.

“We believe you babygirl. We’re going to untie you now. Just sit still while we do okay, angel?” Steve speaks. You can't help but cherish his sweet words to you, as you melt further into their touch.

“Okay dada” you say, tears slowing down. Steve mumbles a good girl and caresses your head one more time before they begin to untie you. You feel relief. Not just because you’re being freed from your binds, but because you know they’re no longer upset with you. They were so mad, so…mean before, and now they’re mumbling praises while freeing you. It makes you feel…content. 

Steve gently picks up your limp form. You have no energy. You barely ate a few bites before you got sent to this room. Steve helps wrap your arms around his neck as your head rests on his shoulder, legs supported around his waist. He carries you downstairs and sits on the couch with you still entangled around him.

He could see how exhausted you were. He hated it. The last thing Steve wanted was for you to be punished on your very first day here, but, what else could they have done? You tried to run away from him, from both of them. You had to learn that it wasn’t acceptable to do that. Soon you'd realize they were doing it to protect you. They could only keep you safe if you're with them, so you have to learn not to run away. 

You hear distant clatter from the kitchen as you sit with Steve. 

He begins rubbing up and down your back. He’s so warm. He wraps a blanket around both of you as he continues tenderly stroking you. He softly kneads at your shoulders and back and rubs the sensitive skin around your arms and ankles. He gently shushes you as some residual tears wet his shirt underneath you. You feel heavy under his touch, but in a good way, as your muscles relax for the first time since you got here. You fall asleep under his touch. 

Steve continues to massage you through your sleep. You feel so delightful on him as tiny huffs of air escape from you. He silently looks forward to the days ahead where you’ll lay atop him and bucky, just like this, all the time. When you’ll wake up to give him soft kisses before asking if you can go play with your dolls. Where you’ll trot through the house showing them your latest drawing. Where you’ll cuddle next to them on this very couch to watch a movie. He knows it’ll take time for you to adjust fully, but he also knows that you easily adapt to them. He knows this because you're perfect for them. 

Steve quietly wakes you from your slumber as breakfast is ready. He places you in the same spot you were just hours ago. Now, there’s a plate full of apples and bananas with a plentiful side of peanut butter and yogurt. Normally, you wouldn’t have picked something as healthy, but you’ll take what you can get. This time, Steve and Bucky eat along with you. It’s quiet while you eat, and after you’ve finished your second cup of milk, Bucky speaks. 

“Feel better babygirl?” 

“Yes daddy…thank you.” you say quietly. You probably shouldn’t be thanking them–definitely shouldn't, but…after your much needed massage and full belly, you can’t help but feel…grateful. 

“You want some more milk?” Bucky asks. You look towards your almost empty sipping cup, and shake your head before remembering to reply. 

“Uh-no…daddy.”

“I think you’d feel even better getting cleaned up, huh doll?” you look up to him at that. 

A shower. 

Oh how nice that sounded right now. You’ve been in the same clothes since yesterday and you honestly feel gross. 

“I-I’d like that…please.” While Steve cleans up, Bucky leads you to their bathroom. When you walk in you notice some neatly folded feminine-looking clothes laying on top of the counter. You stand in the threshold admiring the spacious bathroom again while Bucky starts running a bath. 

“Uhm…I’m okay with just taking a shower” you offer, hoping he’ll leave soon. He looks over his shoulder at you.

“Come here, sit while I get it ready for you.” he motions towards the cloth-covered toilet seat. Did he not hear you? You hesitantly comply. Guess you are taking a bath. He tests its temperature with his right hand, and after there’s enough water to cover the bottom, he turns to you with open arms.

“Come on, let’s get you undressed,” your stomach drops, eyes wide as you freeze. You glance at the door evaluating your escape route. “Don’t be like that, doll.” he orders, a displeased expression on his face. 

“No, I-I mean I can bathe myself…I-I promise…please.” you fret, beginning to shake. 

He sighs, “Look at me,” he demands, “I’m not going to hurt you. Remember what Dada said? We’re going to take care of you…you know why?” You shake your head. 

“Because you’re our little girl. And little girls like you need help taking baths. Now I’m not going to hurt you, but I'm also not going to ask again.” he warns. “don’t make this harder for yourself.” his inflection alone frightens you. You don’t want to find out how this could be any worse than it already is, but you really don’t want to be naked and vulnerable in front of some scary man–one you barely know, and one who is literally holding you captive. 

“N-no please, I-I understand I’m your…little girl, but I-I really can clean myself, I promise I can.” You reason clumsily.

“You’re not listening to me, doll. I’m helping you take a bath, Either you get in this tub, or you get another punishment,” he threatens, “and don’t think I’ll go as easy on you as Dada let last night.” his abrasive threat scares you to your core. What could be worse than being tied and locked up for more than ten hours? You’re at a complete loss for words, paralyzed as he begins carefully peeling off your clothes–slowly. 

To Bucky, it’s anything but. He waited for this moment for months. He’s going to cherish every moment he can. He revels in every inch of skin that gets revealed as he pulls your sleep gown off–the same one Steve dressed you in the night before last when you were still unconscious and unaware of Steve’s enamored gaze. 

“She’s so beautiful, Buck” he runs his hands along your bare sides, sliding down to your outer thighs, pausing when his eyes meet your naked mound. His pupils are blown, any trace of ultramarine gone as his eyes rake your bare form. Bucky places a hand on Steve’s back, silently agreeing with him as he gives him a smile. 

Steve releases a content–yet shaky–breath, before clasping your ankles and moving your legs up so he could swaddle your bottom half into the princess-decorated pull-up. 

Bucky finds himself thinking the same thing Steve said that night, with the same salacious look in his eye as he rids you of your gown. Goosebumps adorn your skin and Bucky relishes in how upturned your head is, eyes ostensibly focused on the plain white ceiling above. No, you weren’t just beautiful, you were fucking adorable.

Once he’s done, he diligently sets you into the warm water. You curl your knees up, trying to maintain a smidge of modesty.

“You want some bubbles?” he asks. 

“Yes,” You answer quickly, wanting anything that helps cover you. “please.” you add shakily.

Whatever kind he adds smells wonderful, and quickly produces enough to cover the clear water. He lets you sit there for a while, watching even after the water is turned off. You lightly pat at the bubbles around your legs, not daring to meet his attentive gaze. After a bit, a small basket is presented to you. He asks if you’d like to play with any toys. The container has a couple different multicolored rubber duckies, a small turtle, and a whale. You look between him and the toys, before picking out one, its cute face calling to you. You let it float around you. At least you’re not completely alone in the tub anymore. Bucky seems satisfied with your choice, happy that you took his offering. 

“Hey there,” you look towards the door to see Steve peeking around. Great, now they’re both here. He walks besides Bucky’s sitting form and leans down, hands on his knees. “how’s it going?” he asks, noticing your wary manner.

“She’s feeling a little shy, but she’ll get used to it.” Bucky responds.

“No need to be embarrassed angel, daddies always help their little girl take a bath. Would be dangerous if we left you all alone,” he says in that patronizing tone he uses. “Have you washed her yet?”

“No, not yet,” Bucky looks to your idle and unmoving form. “babygirl, if you’re not going to play with your toy then it’s time to wash up.”

“I-I can do it.” you think maybe if Steve hears you, he’ll be on your side. Instead, his face falls, and he addresses you by your name.

“I know that’s not true. You may think it is, but it’s not. Now you need to be a good girl and let Daddy clean you up. Besides, the sooner he starts, the sooner it’ll be over. After that,” Steve postures himself up, “we’ll talk about how you need to listen to Daddy and I, and not talk back. Okay?” he looks at you expectantly. You feel defeated that your small protest only resulted in him being up displeased with you.

“I-okay Dada” he purses a smile at you before letting you both know he’ll be in the living room while you finish up.

Once he’s gone Bucky starts shedding his outer layer. Your heart rate skyrockets, terrified he plans to get in there with you. But after his jacket is off, he proceeds to roll up his sleeves and remove a glove from his left hand. You’re not sure how you’ve never noticed it before, but his arm is quite literally made of metal. Horizontal pleats make up his forearm as far as you can see. Your eyes follow its sleek design to see his hands and fingers contain more fine lines and intricate folds. Its sleekness catches the light on certain parts, and you’re just…staring at it.

You watch it as he lathers up a soft-looking loofa, and holds his arms out to you, silently beckoning you to come closer to his side of the large tub. When you look up into his eyes, you’re met with…concern laced in his. He subtly retracts his metal arm, so that his right one is the only one reaching to you. 

“Come on, Doll. Let’s get you clean.” This time his words don’t feel like a demand, rather…an invitation. You scoot yourself towards him and let him work. He gingerly takes his time running the bubbly white suds over your body. You try not to wince at the iciness of his left hand when it touches you. After a bit, it seems to warm up some due to the water. When he gets to your more private areas, you tense. “It’s okay,” he softly reassures throughout, handing you the tiny toy you picked. It helps, but you can’t help but grow hotter than the water around you from being so exposed.

Once he’s done and begins drying you with a giant towel. You realize you’ve barely lifted a finger, and despite how humiliating it was, you do feel a lot better.

You offer to dress yourself, but that suggestions is only met with a scowl. Again, the clothes are obviously something they bought as it’s nothing you own. It's a light-colored onesie with delicate flowers making up the pattern. Small ruffles decorate the bottom, making it look almost dress-like. You’re pleased regardless when he helps your unsteady legs step into underwear and leggings. Finally, as you hold onto his shoulders for support, he slips on some frilly socks that match your onesie perfectly. 

It felt comfortable and when you catch a glimpse of yourself when leaving the bathroom, you almost think your attire looks…cute.

Once you’re back in the living room, Bucky and Steve take a great deal of time explaining the rules to you. 

And there are a lot of them.

The main ones being about how you shouldn’t run away from your daddies. How you should always listen and do what daddies say. How you must always be polite and keep your manners, especially when talking to them. How you need to remember to call them Daddy and Dada, because that’s what we are princess. 

It’s hard to keep track of everything they’re saying. They must pick up on this because Steve reassures you that he knows you’re still going to need time to learn. They end the discussion by sternly reminding you if you are to break any of these rules, especially intentionally, that you’ll get punished. 

They then decide to give you a proper tour of the house. You’ve seen most of the first floor except an office room they quickly show you. There’s a door with several locks, much like the front door, that leads to what must be a basement, but they tell you it’s off-limits and that you’re never to go down there. 

“Why not?” you ask innocently.

“Because Daddy said so,” Bucky replies sternly.

“And because…” Steve leans down to your level after giving a glare to Bucky. “there are dangerous things down there. Things that could hurt you. Daddy and Dada have stuff down there little girls can’t be around. Okay?” You nod your head.

“Okay Dada.” You say. Steve leans up again to see Bucky now giving him a look.

“What? She needs to know, and we should be honest with her if we expect the same from her.” he defends. Honest? He didn’t even really tell you what was down there. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and grunts at Steve as they begin leading you upstairs. There are two rooms connected by a loft that overlooks the living room, and a small bathroom. 

They show you your “playroom” first. It’s the room you must have been in last night as you notice the haunting chair in the corner. The rest of the room is quite…lively though. They let go of the hold on your hands and let you roam around its expanse. It’s lightly colored with accents of pinks and other pastels. A hexagonal tent is in one of the corners with pillows and blankets stacked on the inside. There are several shelves with neatly placed boxes and a variety of toys peeking through them. There’s a table to the side with coloring books stacked on top and a fluffy rug right in the middle. 

“What do you think, babygirl?” Steve probs.

“It’s…nice.” It’s certainly much more than nice. You’ve secretly always wanted a space like this before. You imagine your childhood self would be running in circles around the room if it were given to you. 

Steve takes your hand again and leads you to your bedroom. It’s even more beautiful than your playroom. The color schemes are similar, but pink stands out even more here. There’s a queen size bed in the middle with ruffles covering the sides of it. It reminds you of your outfit. There’s a couch opposite of the bed also supplied with plenty of fluffy looking pillows. On the other side of the room is a…crib. When you notice it you look up to Steve quizzically.

“That’s just in case you’re feeling extra little,” He explains. “you can pick whichever one you want to sleep in babygirl, I promise,” he beams down at you, then lets go of your hand prompting you forward into the room “go on, look around.” 

You want to jump on the bed. You bet it would be so much fun. You feel as though they probably wouldn't like that though. As you get closer to your bed you notice something familiar. No–it’s more than just familiar. You know exactly what it is. 

It’s your stuffie. 

The same one you’ve cuddled with for as long as you can remember. You quickly pick it up, inspecting it for injuries. When all is good, you clutch it to your chest, hugging it tightly. You missed it. And as you inhale its scent you’re reminded of home…your home…where you’re supposed to be. 

No. Actually, you’re supposed to be at work. Right now. Instead, you’re in a foreign place and you’re surrounded by unfamiliar things and you’ve just been given a list of strict rules to follow and you’re not allowed to leave and and and and-

You turn around rashly and start making for the door. Steve is quick to pick you up, securing you to his side. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks sternly before noticing your crinkled eyebrows. “Hey,” he pets the back of your head. “What’s wrong, angel? Something wrong with the room? Something scare you?” He peers around, looking for any abnormalities. You shake your head hard, beginning to get hysterical. 

“N-No! I-I need to go home! I’m supposed to be home! I-I have to work! I’m supposed to be at work, I-I need-I have-” you’re not really sure what you’re saying and you’re pretty sure you start to not make sense as Steve carries you to the bed and sets you down, firmly holding your arms. You’re not even trying to get away from him, you just feel so…overwhelmed. Everything around you is so new. You don’t really understand anything. You do but you don’t. You’re confused. You’re disoriented. You’re scattered. you’re-

“I-I’m scared!” you finally cry out, tears streaming down your face. You feel like you can’t breathe at all. You must somehow communicate that to Steve as he tenderly tries to get you to look at him, both hands engulfing your wet face. 

“Babygirl,” he calls you by your name gently, “hey, it’s okay. Look at me. You’re okay. Just breathe with me, can you do that for me?” he encourages. He asks you to mimic his breathing. It’s hard at first, but eventually, your synchronized breathing fills the room, though yours is still shaky and you’re still crying. Steve picks you up again, bouncing and shushing you lightly. He whispers how you’re okay, and how we got you babygirl, it’s okay. You’re home now. You don’t have to think about any of that, just focus on breathing in, and breathing out, babygirl. Just like that. There you go. Good girl. You’re doing so good. Just keep breathing, don’t think about anything else. Dada’s got you. You’re okay.

Steve continues talking and bouncing you as you concentrate on his words, breathing in and breathing out. 

You should be pushing him away, attempting to get out of his hold and break for the door again. Yet, his essence is the only thing grounding you. His consoling words are the only thing you hear, his encompassing hug the only thing you can feel. Your body and mind crave his soothing embrace, both tired from fighting the past day. You don’t want to give in, you aren’t–but right now you can’t be burdened with concerns when the only thing that feels right is…

“Dada” you muffle into his neck. Steve hears it’s perfectly clear though.

“Yeah angel,” he continues caressing you. “Dada’s got you. It’s okay. It’s all okay.” he carefully shifts you so he can look at you. Your face is puffy and wet, your lips are quivering and your body is wholly slumped into his hold. “How about we watch a movie?” he suggests tentatively. “anything you want, you choose.” his suggestion seems to work, distracting you from your current thoughts to pick out what you might want to watch. After a moment of diligent selection, you decide. 

“Belle…” 

Steve smiles, “Beauty and the Beast?” you nod your head. “Okay, babygirl. That’s just perfect, let’s go.” he carries you downstairs where Bucky has a bottle of warm milk ready for you. 

This time, you don’t fight Bucky when he delicately moves you onto his lap. The once vulnerable position now feels…welcoming. Bucky does the hard work of holding the heavy bottle up, and when he presses the tip of it to your lips, your mouth opens almost naturally. In the present moment, it’s as if your mind has almost no say in your actions. You feel fuzzy. Not…cloudy, like when you first awoke to that unfamiliar dark room, terrified and confused. No, now you feel as though your mind has no other responsibility than to succumb to the demands of your…daddies. And currently, all that consisted of was suckling on the soft tip pressed gently on your tongue, and remaining nestled in Bucky’s lap. 

“Wake up babygirl.” you hear Bucky’s voice. You turn to see him, and Steve, looking down at you.

“Are you ready to come out of timeout?” Steve asks. Immediately, tears start streaming down your face as you remember last night. You nod pitifully. Steve kneels beside you. “Did you learn you lesson?” he asks tentatively, wiping the tears from your cheeks,

“Y-yes” you croak out. You can’t help but lean into his warm touch as his large hand holds your face. You’re in so much pain, even more so than when you must have passed out from exhaustion last night.

“Yes, what?” Bucky requests, and you break.

“Yes, dada! Yes, daddy! I’m-I’m sorry! M’sorry I was bad!” you’re sobbing uncontrollably now. “I-I’ve learned my lesson, please-please just let me out!”

Bucky is kneeling on the other side of you now, gently turning your head towards him, hand cupping your face. 

“And what lesson is that doll? What did you learn?” 

“T-t’not run away, I-I won't d-do it again! I-I promise! I-I’ll be good now, I’ll be good, I-j-just please don’t leave me alone again! Please daddy!”

“Okay babygirl, hey, it’s okay now, no more punishment,” he helps wipe away more of your tears, caressing your face now with both hands. You’re too hysterical to notice only one side of your face feels warm.

“We believe you babygirl. We’re going to untie you now. Just sit still while we do okay, angel?” Steve speaks. You can't help but cherish his sweet words to you, as you melt further into their touch.

“Okay dada” you say, tears slowing down. Steve mumbles a good girl and caresses your head one more time before they begin to untie you. You feel relief. Not just because you’re being freed from your binds, but because you know they’re no longer upset with you. They were so mad, so…mean before, and now they’re mumbling praises while freeing you. It makes you feel…content. 

Steve gently picks up your limp form. You have no energy. You barely ate a few bites before you got sent to this room. Steve helps wrap your arms around his neck as your head rests on his shoulder, legs supported around his waist. He carries you downstairs and sits on the couch with you still entangled around him.

He could see how exhausted you were. He hated it. The last thing Steve wanted was for you to be punished on your very first day here, but, what else could they have done? You tried to run away from him, from both of them. You had to learn that it wasn’t acceptable to do that. Soon you'd realize they were doing it to protect you. They could only keep you safe if you're with them, so you have to learn not to run away. 

You hear distant clatter from the kitchen as you sit with Steve. 

He begins rubbing up and down your back. He’s so warm. He wraps a blanket around both of you as he continues tenderly stroking you. He softly kneads at your shoulders and back and rubs the sensitive skin around your arms and ankles. He gently shushes you as some residual tears wet his shirt underneath you. You feel heavy under his touch, but in a good way, as your muscles relax for the first time since you got here. You fall asleep under his touch. 

Steve continues to massage you through your sleep. You feel so delightful on him as tiny huffs of air escape from you. He silently looks forward to the days ahead where you’ll lay atop him and bucky, just like this, all the time. When you’ll wake up to give him soft kisses before asking if you can go play with your dolls. Where you’ll trot through the house showing them your latest drawing. Where you’ll cuddle next to them on this very couch to watch a movie. He knows it’ll take time for you to adjust fully, but he also knows that you easily adapt to them. He knows this because you're perfect for them. 

Steve quietly wakes you from your slumber as breakfast is ready. He places you in the same spot you were just hours ago. Now, there’s a plate full of apples and bananas with a plentiful side of peanut butter and yogurt. Normally, you wouldn’t have picked something as healthy, but you’ll take what you can get. This time, Steve and Bucky eat along with you. It’s quiet while you eat, and after you’ve finished your second cup of milk, Bucky speaks. 

“Feel better babygirl?” 

“Yes daddy…thank you.” you say quietly. You probably shouldn’t be thanking them–definitely shouldn't, but…after your much needed massage and full belly, you can’t help but feel…grateful. 

“You want some more milk?” Bucky asks. You look towards your almost empty sipping cup, and shake your head before remembering to reply. 

“Uh-no…daddy.”

“I think you’d feel even better getting cleaned up, huh doll?” you look up to him at that. 

A shower. 

Oh how nice that sounded right now. You’ve been in the same clothes since yesterday and you honestly feel gross. 

“I-I’d like that…please.” While Steve cleans up, Bucky leads you to their bathroom. When you walk in you notice some neatly folded feminine-looking clothes laying on top of the counter. You stand in the threshold admiring the spacious bathroom again while Bucky starts running a bath. 

“Uhm…I’m okay with just taking a shower” you offer, hoping he’ll leave soon. He looks over his shoulder at you.

“Come here, sit while I get it ready for you.” he motions towards the cloth-covered toilet seat. Did he not hear you? You hesitantly comply. Guess you are taking a bath. He tests its temperature with his right hand, and after there’s enough water to cover the bottom, he turns to you with open arms.

“Come on, let’s get you undressed,” your stomach drops, eyes wide as you freeze. You glance at the door evaluating your escape route. “Don’t be like that, doll.” he orders, a displeased expression on his face. 

“No, I-I mean I can bathe myself…I-I promise…please.” you fret, beginning to shake. 

He sighs, “Look at me,” he demands, “I’m not going to hurt you. Remember what Dada said? We’re going to take care of you…you know why?” You shake your head. 

“Because you’re our little girl. And little girls like you need help taking baths. Now I’m not going to hurt you, but I'm also not going to ask again.” he warns. “don’t make this harder for yourself.” his inflection alone frightens you. You don’t want to find out how this could be any worse than it already is, but you really don’t want to be naked and vulnerable in front of some scary man–one you barely know, and one who is literally holding you captive. 

“N-no please, I-I understand I’m your…little girl, but I-I really can clean myself, I promise I can.” You reason clumsily.

“You’re not listening to me, doll. I’m helping you take a bath, Either you get in this tub, or you get another punishment,” he threatens, “and don’t think I’ll go as easy on you as Dada let last night.” his abrasive threat scares you to your core. What could be worse than being tied and locked up for more than ten hours? You’re at a complete loss for words, paralyzed as he begins carefully peeling off your clothes–slowly. 

To Bucky, it’s anything but. He waited for this moment for months. He’s going to cherish every moment he can. He revels in every inch of skin that gets revealed as he pulls your sleep gown off–the same one Steve dressed you in the night before last when you were still unconscious and unaware of Steve’s enamored gaze. 

“She’s so beautiful, Buck” he runs his hands along your bare sides, sliding down to your outer thighs, pausing when his eyes meet your naked mound. His pupils are blown, any trace of ultramarine gone as his eyes rake your bare form. Bucky places a hand on Steve’s back, silently agreeing with him as he gives him a smile. 

Steve releases a content–yet shaky–breath, before clasping your ankles and moving your legs up so he could swaddle your bottom half into the princess-decorated pull-up. 

Bucky finds himself thinking the same thing Steve said that night, with the same salacious look in his eye as he rids you of your gown. Goosebumps adorn your skin and Bucky relishes in how upturned your head is, eyes ostensibly focused on the plain white ceiling above. No, you weren’t just beautiful, you were fucking adorable.

Once he’s done, he diligently sets you into the warm water. You curl your knees up, trying to maintain a smidge of modesty.

“You want some bubbles?” he asks. 

“Yes,” You answer quickly, wanting anything that helps cover you. “please.” you add shakily.

Whatever kind he adds smells wonderful, and quickly produces enough to cover the clear water. He lets you sit there for a while, watching even after the water is turned off. You lightly pat at the bubbles around your legs, not daring to meet his attentive gaze. After a bit, a small basket is presented to you. He asks if you’d like to play with any toys. The container has a couple different multicolored rubber duckies, a small turtle, and a whale. You look between him and the toys, before picking out one, its cute face calling to you. You let it float around you. At least you’re not completely alone in the tub anymore. Bucky seems satisfied with your choice, happy that you took his offering. 

“Hey there,” you look towards the door to see Steve peeking around. Great, now they’re both here. He walks besides Bucky’s sitting form and leans down, hands on his knees. “how’s it going?” he asks, noticing your wary manner.

“She’s feeling a little shy, but she’ll get used to it.” Bucky responds.

“No need to be embarrassed angel, daddies always help their little girl take a bath. Would be dangerous if we left you all alone,” he says in that patronizing tone he uses. “Have you washed her yet?”

“No, not yet,” Bucky looks to your idle and unmoving form. “babygirl, if you’re not going to play with your toy then it’s time to wash up.”

“I-I can do it.” you think maybe if Steve hears you, he’ll be on your side. Instead, his face falls, and he addresses you by your name.

“I know that’s not true. You may think it is, but it’s not. Now you need to be a good girl and let Daddy clean you up. Besides, the sooner he starts, the sooner it’ll be over. After that,” Steve postures himself up, “we’ll talk about how you need to listen to Daddy and I, and not talk back. Okay?” he looks at you expectantly. You feel defeated that your small protest only resulted in him being up displeased with you.

“I-okay Dada” he purses a smile at you before letting you both know he’ll be in the living room while you finish up.

Once he’s gone Bucky starts shedding his outer layer. Your heart rate skyrockets, terrified he plans to get in there with you. But after his jacket is off, he proceeds to roll up his sleeves and remove a glove from his left hand. You’re not sure how you’ve never noticed it before, but his arm is quite literally made of metal. Horizontal pleats make up his forearm as far as you can see. Your eyes follow its sleek design to see his hands and fingers contain more fine lines and intricate folds. Its sleekness catches the light on certain parts, and you’re just…staring at it.

You watch it as he lathers up a soft-looking loofa, and holds his arms out to you, silently beckoning you to come closer to his side of the large tub. When you look up into his eyes, you’re met with…concern laced in his. He subtly retracts his metal arm, so that his right one is the only one reaching to you. 

“Come on, Doll. Let’s get you clean.” This time his words don’t feel like a demand, rather…an invitation. You scoot yourself towards him and let him work. He gingerly takes his time running the bubbly white suds over your body. You try not to wince at the iciness of his left hand when it touches you. After a bit, it seems to warm up some due to the water. When he gets to your more private areas, you tense. “It’s okay,” he softly reassures throughout, handing you the tiny toy you picked. It helps, but you can’t help but grow hotter than the water around you from being so exposed.

Once he’s done and begins drying you with a giant towel. You realize you’ve barely lifted a finger, and despite how humiliating it was, you do feel a lot better.

You offer to dress yourself, but that suggestions is only met with a scowl. Again, the clothes are obviously something they bought as it’s nothing you own. It's a light-colored onesie with delicate flowers making up the pattern. Small ruffles decorate the bottom, making it look almost dress-like. You’re pleased regardless when he helps your unsteady legs step into underwear and leggings. Finally, as you hold onto his shoulders for support, he slips on some frilly socks that match your onesie perfectly. 

It felt comfortable and when you catch a glimpse of yourself when leaving the bathroom, you almost think your attire looks…cute.

Once you’re back in the living room, Bucky and Steve take a great deal of time explaining the rules to you. 

And there are a lot of them.

The main ones being about how you shouldn’t run away from your daddies. How you should always listen and do what daddies say. How you must always be polite and keep your manners, especially when talking to them. How you need to remember to call them Daddy and Dada, because that’s what we are princess. 

It’s hard to keep track of everything they’re saying. They must pick up on this because Steve reassures you that he knows you’re still going to need time to learn. They end the discussion by sternly reminding you if you are to break any of these rules, especially intentionally, that you’ll get punished. 

They then decide to give you a proper tour of the house. You’ve seen most of the first floor except an office room they quickly show you. There’s a door with several locks, much like the front door, that leads to what must be a basement, but they tell you it’s off-limits and that you’re never to go down there. 

“Why not?” you ask innocently.

“Because Daddy said so,” Bucky replies sternly.

“And because…” Steve leans down to your level after giving a glare to Bucky. “there are dangerous things down there. Things that could hurt you. Daddy and Dada have stuff down there little girls can’t be around. Okay?” You nod your head.

“Okay Dada.” You say. Steve leans up again to see Bucky now giving him a look.

“What? She needs to know, and we should be honest with her if we expect the same from her.” he defends. Honest? He didn’t even really tell you what was down there. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and grunts at Steve as they begin leading you upstairs. There are two rooms connected by a loft that overlooks the living room, and a small bathroom. 

They show you your “playroom” first. It’s the room you must have been in last night as you notice the haunting chair in the corner. The rest of the room is quite…lively though. They let go of the hold on your hands and let you roam around its expanse. It’s lightly colored with accents of pinks and other pastels. A hexagonal tent is in one of the corners with pillows and blankets stacked on the inside. There are several shelves with neatly placed boxes and a variety of toys peeking through them. There’s a table to the side with coloring books stacked on top and a fluffy rug right in the middle. 

“What do you think, babygirl?” Steve probs.

“It’s…nice.” It’s certainly much more than nice. You’ve secretly always wanted a space like this before. You imagine your childhood self would be running in circles around the room if it were given to you. 

Steve takes your hand again and leads you to your bedroom. It’s even more beautiful than your playroom. The color schemes are similar, but pink stands out even more here. There’s a queen size bed in the middle with ruffles covering the sides of it. It reminds you of your outfit. There’s a couch opposite of the bed also supplied with plenty of fluffy looking pillows. On the other side of the room is a…crib. When you notice it you look up to Steve quizzically.

“That’s just in case you’re feeling extra little,” He explains. “you can pick whichever one you want to sleep in babygirl, I promise,” he beams down at you, then lets go of your hand prompting you forward into the room “go on, look around.” 

You want to jump on the bed. You bet it would be so much fun. You feel as though they probably wouldn't like that though. As you get closer to your bed you notice something familiar. No–it’s more than just familiar. You know exactly what it is. 

It’s your stuffie. 

The same one you’ve cuddled with for as long as you can remember. You quickly pick it up, inspecting it for injuries. When all is good, you clutch it to your chest, hugging it tightly. You missed it. And as you inhale its scent you’re reminded of home…your home…where you’re supposed to be. 

No. Actually, you’re supposed to be at work. Right now. Instead, you’re in a foreign place and you’re surrounded by unfamiliar things and you’ve just been given a list of strict rules to follow and you’re not allowed to leave and and and and-

You turn around rashly and start making for the door. Steve is quick to pick you up, securing you to his side. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks sternly before noticing your crinkled eyebrows. “Hey,” he pets the back of your head. “What’s wrong, angel? Something wrong with the room? Something scare you?” He peers around, looking for any abnormalities. You shake your head hard, beginning to get hysterical. 

“N-No! I-I need to go home! I’m supposed to be home! I-I have to work! I’m supposed to be at work, I-I need-I have-” you’re not really sure what you’re saying and you’re pretty sure you start to not make sense as Steve carries you to the bed and sets you down, firmly holding your arms. You’re not even trying to get away from him, you just feel so…overwhelmed. Everything around you is so new. You don’t really understand anything. You do but you don’t. You’re confused. You’re disoriented. You’re scattered. you’re-

“I-I’m scared!” you finally cry out, tears streaming down your face. You feel like you can’t breathe at all. You must somehow communicate that to Steve as he tenderly tries to get you to look at him, both hands engulfing your wet face. 

“Babygirl,” he calls you by your name gently, “hey, it’s okay. Look at me. You’re okay. Just breathe with me, can you do that for me?” he encourages. He asks you to mimic his breathing. It’s hard at first, but eventually, your synchronized breathing fills the room, though yours is still shaky and you’re still crying. Steve picks you up again, bouncing and shushing you lightly. He whispers how you’re okay, and how we got you babygirl, it’s okay. You’re home now. You don’t have to think about any of that, just focus on breathing in, and breathing out, babygirl. Just like that. There you go. Good girl. You’re doing so good. Just keep breathing, don’t think about anything else. Dada’s got you. You’re okay.

Steve continues talking and bouncing you as you concentrate on his words, breathing in and breathing out. 

You should be pushing him away, attempting to get out of his hold and break for the door again. Yet, his essence is the only thing grounding you. His consoling words are the only thing you hear, his encompassing hug the only thing you can feel. Your body and mind crave his soothing embrace, both tired from fighting the past day. You don’t want to give in, you aren’t–but right now you can’t be burdened with concerns when the only thing that feels right is…

“Dada” you muffle into his neck. Steve hears it’s perfectly clear though.

“Yeah angel,” he continues caressing you. “Dada’s got you. It’s okay. It’s all okay.” he carefully shifts you so he can look at you. Your face is puffy and wet, your lips are quivering and your body is wholly slumped into his hold. “How about we watch a movie?” he suggests tentatively. “anything you want, you choose.” his suggestion seems to work, distracting you from your current thoughts to pick out what you might want to watch. After a moment of diligent selection, you decide. 

“Belle…” 

Steve smiles, “Beauty and the Beast?” you nod your head. “Okay, babygirl. That’s just perfect, let’s go.” he carries you downstairs where Bucky has a bottle of warm milk ready for you. 

This time, you don’t fight Bucky when he delicately moves you onto his lap. The once vulnerable position now feels…welcoming. Bucky does the hard work of holding the heavy bottle up, and when he presses the tip of it to your lips, your mouth opens almost naturally. In the present moment, it’s as if your mind has almost no say in your actions. You feel fuzzy. Not…cloudy, like when you first awoke to that unfamiliar dark room, terrified and confused. No, now you feel as though your mind has no other responsibility than to succumb to the demands of your…daddies. And currently, all that consisted of was suckling on the soft tip pressed gently on your tongue, and remaining nestled in Bucky’s lap. 

What started as a nice walk in the park quickly turned into one of their worst nightmares. 

It had been raining for days in New York. Normally you wouldn’t have minded, having a massive pile of toys to play with and books to have read to you, and an endless supply of other family members in the tower to keep you entertained. But you were fidgety, constantly needing to be on the move. Your daddies had taken you to the big gym floor and set you loose on the giant running track, they’d taken you to the Olympic-sized indoor pool, and they’d even managed to convince Tony to let them take the Quinjet on a quick spin around the state. All of which managed to keep you satisfied...for that day. Then the next day they’d find you with your nose pressed up against the sliding glass door to the patio, watching the pouring rain, asking politely if you could go outside. Four thousand times in a row. 

Finally the rain let up right before your bedtime, and the ground became okay enough to not be a giant puddle by morning. You were so excited about going outside, wiggling around so much, that Bucky later grumbled to Steve that it had been easier escaping from the German army than getting you into your coat and rain boots. 

“We goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the PAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!” you sung at the top of your little lungs, running back and forth with joy as you held onto Steve and Bucky’s hands, walking through the hallways of the tower. You squealed in delight when they both lifted their arms in tandem, swinging you into the air. “Again again please!!” you begged, laughing uproariously with delight when they obliged. 

Steve grinned down at you as you giggled gleefully. He was craving the fresh air just as much as you were and felt as joyful as you did. “Okay, so when we get to Central Park, what are you going to do, angel?” he asked you. 

“Hold your hand always!”

“That’s my smart girl. You hold my hand or Daddy’s hand at all times. And what happens if we get separated and you don’t see us?”

“Look for a ‘Venger to help!” 

“Right again! I’m so proud of you!” You giggled and blushed, wiggling around extra hard to let Papa know how happy his praise made you. “Now. Last one. If you don’t see someone who can help you, what do you do?”

“Light up shoes and stay PUT!”

“Great job, baby!” Steve cheered, suddenly swinging around and lifting you up into the air while you laughed crazily. All the littles in the Avengers Tower had light up shoes with tiny trackers in them, so if anything ever happened to them outside the tower and they were in little space, they’d always have a tracker on them that a caregiver could follow. It wasn’t too hard to convince any little to wear the shoes that lit up when they stomped; in fact, you all had gone through several pairs of light up shoes, delighted at the light up features. Hey, the system worked. 

Bucky grinned at the two of you, reaching back out for your hand the moment your feet touched the ground. “Good job remembering the rules, Trouble,” he said. You wiggled with joy and blushed again, making him chuckle. He looked up at his husband. “You sure you wanna try this without caps and glasses?” he asked again, raising his eyebrows. “No disguises at all?”

Steve smile warmly at his worrywart husband. “We’re not undercover, Buck. We live in this city too, and everyone already knows it anyways. It’ll be okay, and if it’s not, we’ll just ask people to respect our space or we’ll go a different direction. It’ll be fine.”

Bucky kept the smile, but tightened his grip on your hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little while later, the three of you were enjoying the birds singing, the fresh, cool breeze blowing through the trees, and the hum of human activity all around you. It was so lovely, it seemed like everyone in New York City was trying to get outside to see the sun. You held tight to your daddies’ hands, but your head was constantly whipping around, trying to take in all the sights at once.  

Suddenly, there was a scream in the distance. Bucky and Steve’s heads snapped in the direction of the sound automatically, their grips tightening on yours. Out of nowhere, this group of seven or eight teens came barreling at the three of you, all with their phones out, screaming about Captain America and The Winter Soldier. With the speed of light, Bucky tucked you underneath his vibranium arm, cuddling you against his body to keep you safe. This meant you had to let go of Papa’s hand, and you tried to turn your head to make sure he was okay, but Daddy’s grip on you was too strong and you couldn’t see him. 

Before you knew it, the crowd grew suddenly larger, and you heard people pointing at the group of teens in recognition- they were something called a...’influencer’ or a ‘TikTok star’ or something...you didn’t understand all the yelling. You got very, very still, hanging desperately onto Daddy’s shirt as he tried to be polite- Avengers had an image to maintain, especially the ‘reformed’ ones like him- but get these people to back off. 

One of the boys grabbed onto the vibranium arm that was holding you, screaming about how cool it was. It scared you so badly, not seeing this boy until his hands were reaching right where you were at and the loudness, that you stumbled backwards, causing you to slip out from underneath Bucky’s arm.

 Bucky’s head whipped around the second he lost contact with you. “Steve!” he hollered over the melee as he tried to move the kid away from you. “Get her!” All you caught was a glimpse of Steve’s searching blue eyes before a tidal wave of people crashed into you. It was insane- some sort of mob mentality had taken over. Between the two famous Avengers and the internet sensations surrounding them, everyone lost their minds. You tried to push against the tide, tried desperately to keep your eyes on either of them, but the crush of the crowd was too much. Your throat choked up in fear- you couldn’t even call out for them. You were carried away by the wave. It seemed to go on forever and you couldn’t stop it as it pushed you farther and farther away. 

Finally there was a break in the people that had been crowding you, and you pushed with all your might to get free of the mob. Trying to keep calm and be brave, you looked around, remembering Rule #2 as hard as you could. Your heart leapt when you saw a long mane of red hair a distance away, and you instantly ran towards it, thinking it was Aunt Natasha. Just as you were about to throw your arms around the woman, she suddenly turned. It wasn’t Auntie Nat. You mumbled an awkward apology and ran in the other direction, embarrassed. 

Gulping hard to try to keep your scared sobs inside, you came to a halt. You looked around and didn’t see anything you recognized. There was a pretty, tall fountain with an angel on top close to you, but you didn’t remember it from before. “Light up shoes and stay put,” you whispered to yourself. “Light up shoes and stay put.” You stomped your feet as hard as you could, seeing the rainbow lights activate. You looked around desperately, waiting for them to come and rescue you. You stomped harder and harder, the tears building in your eyes. No Papa. No Daddy. You slowly walked the few steps to the fountain and carefully sat down, the tears now running down your face. Every now and then, you stomped your feet to keep the shoes lit up. “Please find me,” you whispered tearfully, pleading into the air. 

Suddenly, there were shrieks and gasps coming from in front of you. You looked up to see people suddenly rushing to the sides, looking like they were dodging to get out of the way of a speeding train. And they were. A speeding train in the form of Daddy. 

Bucky came racing towards you faster than you’d ever seen anyone run. You could almost see the flames coming off his feet. The crowd parted for him, but he didn’t give two flying fucks if he ran any of them over. With barely a bend of the knees, he came flying over the stone balustrade walls surrounding the fountain, his eyes locked on your tiny form. All you could do was reach your hands to him before he reached you, scooping you up and crushing you to his chest like he was never going to let you go again. 

You just clung to him, still too frightened to do anything else. “Hey, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here and he’s not letting you go,” Bucky was murmuring into your ear, so fast you could barely make out the words. “I am so sorry baby. Daddy will never let that happen again, you hear me? Never again. Never, never again. I’m right here.” You just whimpered and nodded, your tears soaking the front of his shirt. You heard another set of feet come to a screeching halt near you, but you were still too worked up to turn to see if it was Papa. You knew if it wasn’t, Daddy was going to keep you safe, and that was all you could handle at the moment. “Deep breaths, baby, can you do that for me? Can you take some deep breaths?” Daddy asked frantically, tilting his head back to look at you. “Can you take some deep breaths with me? Some deep breaths with Daddy?” You managed to nod again, and relief flooded his face. “That’s my good girl. Okay, we’re gonna sit down and take some breaths together.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the fountain where he’d found you. He turned you in his lap so you could see Steve sitting next to the both of you. Your left hand shot out instantly, needing to touch him too. Steve took your hand, covering it with his other, stroking and patting it, his eyes a warring storm of fear and relief, while Bucky held you tight, 

“Okay, baby, let’s breathe together. You remember how we breathe when we’re scared?” Daddy asked, looking down at you, his tone a bit calmer now. You could see he was still struggling too, and that gave you the nudge to be brave enough to breathe together. You nodded. “We can do it. We’ll do it together, Daddy and Baby. Okay, here we go. Breathe in.” You two locked eyes and breathed in, Bucky counting as he inhaled. “One, two, three, four,” he said on the air, then nodded at you. You held your breath with him as his lips moved, counting to four again, but not letting any air out. “Breathe out, one, two, three, four, five, six,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes locked on you while you went through the exercise together. He silently counted to six as you held your breath again. You went through the cycle three times together, feeling better and better each time. When you finished, Daddy smiled proudly at you. “I knew you could do it, Baby. Daddy loves you so much.”

“Love you too Daddy,” you said, tucking your forehead into his chest again, happy that he was okay now too. You brought Papa’s hand up to your face. “Love you too Papa.” You squeezed his fingers, pressing them in to your cheek.

“Papa loves you so much,” Steve responded, his voice tight with emotion. “Are you okay honey?” You pursed your lips for a moment, but nodded. 

“M’okay. Big peoples.”

“Yeah, that crowd was crazy, right?”

“Too loud.”

“Definitely too loud. I’m so sorry baby, that should never have happened.”

“They all go away?”

“Yeah, they’re all away now. You remember how Uncle Tony says that he can watch everybody everywhere?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he saw on his cameras that the mean crowd was bothering us and his flying suits came to help.”

“WOW.”

“We’ll have to thank him when we get home.”

“Okay, I help.”

Both your daddies chuckled, relieved that you were starting to sound like you again. “What do you think, Baby? Do you want to go home?” Bucky asked, bouncing you a little, trying to gauge how you were feeling. 

“Um,” you said. Now that you were over the fear, you weren’t QUITE ready to be back inside just yet. “We look at duckies please?” The men exchanged a quick look, checking in with each other, before they turned back to you, smiling. 

“Okay, Trouble, we will go look at the ducks,” Bucky said softly, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good manners.” He stood up and was about to tell you that you were only staying at the park if he carried you for the rest of the day, but the iron grip you had on his tee shirt and the way your legs locked around his waist let him know that you had no intention of being set down, anyways. He pressed another kiss into your hair. 

They walked to a quieter section by the water, grinning and laughing as you insisted on pointing to each and every duck, naming them one by one. After about ten minutes, Steve got a pedicab to get you all back to the street so you wouldn’t have to walk through all the people again. You’d made a full recovery by the time you all got back to Avengers’ Tower, babbling excitedly about all the ducky friends you’d made today and making plans to bring them bread tomorrow.

This was pretty close to exactly what Heaven was like. It had to be.

You inhaled deeply. A fresh batch of sugar cookies had just come out of the oven, and you hopped down off your little kitchen step stool and leaned towards the still-hot tray in Steve's hand, lured in by the siren's call of its intoxicating smell.

There was a big Avengers Family get together/potluck tomorrow, and you three had been assigned desserts. Once you heard that, you badgered your daddies incessantly to make cookies for everyone, because in your mind there was literally no better dessert in the whole entire world. They had given in, but had not anticipated the lengths that your cookie craving would take you to...or how much you would live up to your nickname.

"Trouble," Bucky warned for the 32nd time in the last hour as you took a step towards the stove. You instantly stood up straight, looking at him with your widest and most innocent Bambi eyes.

"What?" you asked adorably, tilting your head. Bucky's eyes just narrowed at you. "I was just SMELLING 'em, Daddy!" He rolled his eyes.

"Quit trying to get close to the pan," he scolded, ignoring your excuse. "You're gonna get burned."

"No, I'm not!"

"Katie," Steve said this time, in HIS warning voice, turning to face you as he set the pan down on the stovetop to cool. "We've been having lots of fun decorating these cookies. Please don't start being naughty and make us stop."

"Not bein' naughty."

"Arguing and talking back to Daddy and me is being very naughty, and you know it."

Unable to refute that, you huffed and crossed your arms, pouting with all your might. Bucky raised an eyebrow at you as he stepped in closer. "Guess this means it's time to stop decorating," he said evenly, reaching for you. You instantly dropped the pout and your arms.

"No, no! I sorry, I be good!" you pleaded. "Please can we decorate more please?"

"You gonna stop being naughty and do as you're told?"

"Yes, yes! I sorry Daddy! I be good."

"Okay, then. We can do some more. But-"

"YAAAAAAAAAAY!!!"

"BUT-" Bucky said loudly, over your cheering. "You be on your best behavior, got it, Trouble?"

"Got it, Daddy!"

"Alright. Get your cute little butt back up here."

All attitude forgotten, you hopped back onto your stool gleefully. Steve turned to Bucky, smirking at his husband. “You believe me now that she’s had too many cookies?” he asked as he crossed his arms, grinning. 

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully, but before he could answer, you chimed in. “NEVER!!” you shrieked dramatically, ruining your theatricality with a giggle. “Never too much cookies!” You jumped off the stool again, and started racing around the kitchen island. Steve tilted his head with his favorite I told you so look as Bucky heaved a world-weary sigh. 

“Okay, yeah, you might be on to something,” Bucky conceded grumpily, his eyes never leaving you as you continued your sugar-crazed laps. You’d only had 2 cookies....and the 2 that he didn’t let Steve see you sneak. That he was very much starting to regret now. Along with all the tastes of the decorations. Oh geez. “We gonna finish these or are you gonna keep practicing for the Indy 500, munchkin?” he called out loudly to you. He chuckled as you screeched to a halt and climbed back up on your stool. You reached out a finger to dip in the delicious soft pink icing you’d been using to frost the cookies, but Steve’s hand stopped you. 

“No, no more taste testing, angel,” he said firmly but gently. “You’ve had enough sugar for today. And possibly tomorrow. And the next month.”

“But I gotta test it, Papa! It could be poisoned.”

“It hasn’t been poisoned since the last time you tested it. Or the other 3 times before that, either.”

“You can never be too sure,” you replied back solemnly. Steve just brought your fingers to his smiling lips, giving them a quick kiss before leaning in so you were practically nose to nose. 

“No more sugar tonight, Katie,” he said in his no-nonsense voice. It was your turn to sigh heavily and dramatically. 

“Yes, Papa,” you conceded in a hang-dog tone, before letting your eyes slide over to Daddy, and going full Bambi on him. Bucky pretended he didn’t see as he picked up another cookie and started smearing icing on it. You gave up, and turned your attention back to the rainbow sprinkle decorations, and once you were sufficiently distracted, Steve and Bucky silently made eye contact as well as a game plan to get you down off your sugar high before bedtime. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, you were wrapped in your rainbow blanket on your daddies’ bed, sprawled out over both Steve and Bucky, watching Tangled. Your head was upside down on Bucky’s right thigh, watching the movie intently, while your right foot was propped up on Steve’s shoulder. Usually, there was something about that movie that could put you right to sleep- a trick they often employed when you were fussy at nap time- but you had so much sugar in your system that you were wide awake, and flopping around every few minutes in whatever weird position struck your fancy to get comfortable again. 

In truth, you were thinking about all those delicious cookies, so pretty with the sprinkles and icing and chocolate chips and colored sugar....”Gotta go potty,” you suddenly declared, rolling over Bucky and off the edge of the bed. Bucky caught you with his lighting quick reflexes before you hit the floor. He chuckled as he set you upright. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Trouble,” he teased as he let you go. You giggled and raced away to the bathroom down the hall instead of theirs, hollering that you’d be right back. You didn’t really need to go, but you had a plan...

You tiptoed into the kitchen, quietly climbed onto your stool still next to the kitchen island...and there they were. A whole big plate of frosted heaven just begging for you to eat them. 

Well, what else were you supposed to do? 

After the 3rd cookie, your face was covered in frosting and your stomach was starting to hurt. You bit your lips against the whimper that wanted to escape. Your tummy was really gurgly, but you couldn’t tell Papa or Daddy. If you got caught, you were going to be in so much trouble. There was only one thing left to do. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve and Bucky had just finished the scene where Flynn and Rapunzel escaped out of the cave. Bucky chuckled, thinking how much you loved to reenact it when you were swimming at Tony’s. It suddenly dawned on him you’d been gone longer than you should have been. He looked over at his husband. “She should have been back by now,” he said nonchalantly. After exchanging a quick look, they both bound out of bed. Bucky headed straight for the bathroom, but Steve headed for the kitchen. Once he saw the crumbs and the gap on the cookie plate, his suspicion was confirmed. He put his hands on his hips, angry. 

“Kaitlyn!” he bellowed. When he didn’t hear you respond, his eyes started scanning the area for any indication of where you might have gone. He took a deep breath, trying to tame the anger he felt at your disobedience. Finally, his super soldier hearing caught the tiniest rustling sound from your bedroom. He stormed his way over. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room when he didn’t immediately see you. You weren’t in the pile of blankets at the foot of your bed, nor under your bed, you weren’t in the mountain of stuffies in the corner...then his eyes landed on the closet. It was open just a crack. 

Steve got to the door and yanked it open, and sure enough, there you were. Huddled on the ground in the fetal position, pinching your eyes shut tight. Because if you didn’t see him, he wasn’t there, right? But you could still hear his weighty exhale. 

“Young lady, get out here right now,” Steve ordered. You just whimpered and curled in tighter on yourself. Instantly, he realized something was wrong. “Hey,” he said in a much softer and gentler voice, kneeling down. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

The sudden calmness and change in demeanor did you in. You tearfully peeked one eye open. “Cookie Monster, Papa,” you whispered. 

Papa’s eyebrows raised. “What do you mean, ‘cookie monster’, honey?” he asked carefully, unsure of what you meant. 

“Cookie Monster in my tummy,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut in both shame and pain as your stomach rumbled again. 

“Oh boy,” Papa said, and you could hear a lightness that wasn’t there before in his tone. “You ate too many cookies, and now you have a cookie monster in your tummy?” You nodded pathetically. 

“I sowwy,” you whispered, keeping your eyes shut to block out the disappointment you just knew was on his face. Instead, you felt his strong arms scoop you up and lift you, then transport you to your bed. He laid down beside you on the bed, putting you on your back. You tried to turn away so you wouldn’t have to face him. 

“Nuh-uh, none of that,” Papa said softly, turning you back. He started rubbing your tummy gently, and when you tried to push his hand away, he carefully moved your hands so they wouldn’t interfere. “This will help, angel,” he said. You just kept your eyes shut tight and tried not to cry. You felt one hand move to your forehead and linger there, as if he was checking your temperature to make sure it was just a stomach ache and nothing more. Once he was satisfied, you felt him relax as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and resumed rubbing your stomach. 

You peeked one eye open again when you heard Bucky at the door frame. It only took him a second to realize what had happened. You squeezed your eye shut again as he pinched his lips in irritation of your naughtiness, but you missed the concern that came immediately after it. “Buck, can you please go get her some Alka Seltzer?” Papa asked calmly, and you heard Daddy turn to go. 

“Now, baby,” Papa began in his light tone. “What did we say about no more sugar tonight?”

“N-not to,” you managed to get out, trying to wriggle away again as the scolding started. Steve’s hands gently pinned you down again. 

“Stop,” he said calmly, but with a firmness that you knew better than to argue with. Once you stopped wiggling around, he put one arm underneath you to cradle you, and used the other hand to resume rubbing...and the talking to continued. “That’s right. We said not to have any more sugar tonight. Now do you understand why we said no more?” You nodded and wiped your runny nose with the back of your hand. You felt a tissue pressed up against your nose. “Blow, please,” Papa said. You did as he asked, and he gently wiped. “I want to hear your words, baby.”

“Yes, Papa, I understand,” you said miserably. You carefully opened your eyes to see his crystal blue ones staring down at you kindly. 

“Good girl.”

“Are you really mad at me?”

“I’m not happy that you chose to disobey,” he said evenly, but softly. “But you’re definitely learning the consequences of your actions, aren’t you?”

You moaned and turned your face into his chest. “Yeah,” you whined quietly. “Best behavior,” you mumbled again, shamefaced. “Won’t do it again, I mean it, Papa.”

“That’s right, baby, best behaviors will keep you from getting a cookie monster, or getting hurt, or lost. This is why you need to listen and obey when we tell you to do something. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Papa. I sowwy.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, squeezing you gently. “You’re forgiven.” Just then, Daddy returned with the glass of the bubbly water. You wrinkled your nose and glared at the medicine. They made you take Alka Seltzer before when you’d had a rumbly tummy, and even though it helped you still didn’t like the bubbles that tasted salty to you. 

Daddy shook his head as he sat down at your feet. “None of that, Trouble,” he chided gently, but with a smile. “You brought this on yourself. Drink up.” He grinned as you wrinkled your nose just once more, before sitting up and taking the glass. You swallowed the fizzy water as quickly as you could before flopping back against Papa’s arm with a theatrical groan. “At least all those cookies  didn’t hurt your flair for the dramatic,” he teased. He leaned in and took the glass from your hand, silently exchanging a look with Papa, before turning his eyes back to you.

“Alright, Trouble, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Daddy said. “You know when you disobey, you get a timeout, right?”

“Yeah,” you replied miserably. You really didn’t want to sit in the corner, but there was no doubt you’d earned it. 

“Well, we’re not going to do that tonight since you obviously are learning your lesson and don’t really need the time to think about what you’ve done. You’re gonna come back to our bed and sleep with us tonight, so we can keep an eye on your tummy.”

“On the Cookie Monster?”

“The...what?” Daddy asked, looking up at Papa for clarification. Steve gave him a look that said just go with it. “Okay, on the...cookie monster,” Daddy continued. “But no more cookies for the rest of the week. And that includes dinner with everyone tomorrow. If you’ve been good and don’t try to steal any more cookies, we’ll talk about having them again next week. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Alright then. Wanna go finish Tangled?”

“Honey, you know daddy has to punish you. Else you’ll never learn.” Ari’s got his stern voice on, which lets you know that there’ll be no worming out of this one. He easily manoeuvres your flailing body across his lap, pinching the flesh of your ass in warning, “and stop moving or else I’ll use my belt.”

You still immediately. He’s never used his belt on you but you don’t want today to be the day he does.

Sniffling, you look over your shoulder at him dejectedly, “Said I was sorry, daddy. It’s just— the oven was so hot and I forgot I’m not allowed to use big girl words— it just came out, I swear.”

Ari sighs, methodically flipping your skirt up and pushing your panties down, and he can’t help but squeeze the bare flesh of your ass. “Well, that’s another strike, because you shouldn’t be using the oven without supervision anyways.”

You pout, “b-but I’m your wife— how else am I supposed to cook for you? Ow!”

Ari gives your ass a firm slap, admiring how it jiggles, “Don’t get sassy with me, honey. You’re my wife but you’re also my baby. And what have I told you about babies?”

You hang your head dejectedly and recite: “babies like me aren’t allowed to do big girl things without daddy’s permission.”

“Good girl.” Ari strokes your hair back, petting your head like you’re his puppy, and you can’t help but lean up into his touch. “Now, baby. I want you to count every spank, and thank daddy after each one. Got it?”

Your lower lip quivers but you try to be brave, “Y-Yes, daddy.”

SMACK.

“O-One. Thank you, daddy.”

You grimace, biting your lip to keep from crying out loud. And Ari’s really enjoying himself, squeezing and groping at your sizzling flesh after every few spanks, as if he can’t help himself. He even presses his lips down on the sensitive flesh of your ass cheek, kissing you softly before landing another harsh smack.

“Look at your little baby ass, practically begging for a good old-fashioned spanking.” Ari murmurs, jiggling your cheek lewdly and making you wince because it hurts so much. “Baby wives like you need their daddies to keep them in check like this every once in a while, don’t you agree, honey?”

SMACK.

“T-Ten, thank you, daddy! I agree!” You cry, silently begging for mercy yet at the same time wiggling downwards, unable to keep still because the rough denim of his jeans feels so good against your throbbing pussy.

“Now look at you, wet from a spanking and humping your baby pussy on daddy’s leg like a little bunny in heat.” Another spank, and another one, and now you’ve lost count. “And in front of all your little stuffed animals too? You must feel so ashamed.”

You tearfully glance at all your stuffies, longing to have your stuffed rabbit, Floppy, in your arms to comfort you. Instead, you receive another series of hard slaps, the lewd sound of the smacks echoing around the room.

“Apologise to them too.” Ari orders you, voice dripping with authority and sick lust. “C’mon, honey. Apologise to your little stuffies for being such a naughty baby with a potty mouth.” He slaps your upper thigh and you hiss in pain, “Tell your little friends what a bad girl you are.”

“I’m a bad girl!” You cry desperately, unable to lock eyes with the toys, feeling silly and ashamed and humiliated all at once. “I’m sorry, stuffies and I’m sorry, daddy! Won’t ever swear again, please!”

A final slap and then Ari’s pulling you upright, gathering you in his arms while you sob into his chest. “There, there, baby.” He coos, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair back, “Daddy had to do it. How else will little babies like you ever learn the rules?”

More kisses, more fondling, and he even licks up the stray tears falling down your cheeks.

“I know you’re just a baby and it’s confusing for you to remember all our rules— but that’s why you need daddy. I don’t want to hear another swear word come out of your mouth, you got that, honey? And no going near the oven, either. It’s dangerous for babies.”

You sniffle and nod, feeling especially small — as if you truly are his baby — as Ari cuddles you. Readily, you accept his thumb when he pushes it against your lips, sucking on it noisily to calm yourself down from the whole ordeal you’ve just gone through. Your ass feels like it’s on fire but you know that your daddy knows best.

“That’s my good little baby,” Ari coos, pinching your cheek and holding you close. And it’s crazy how he’s made you so addicted to his babying, to the point where you physically need him to act like this with you — especially after harsh punishments like this.

“Curtis.” Your eyes widen at Ari’s suddenly gruff tone, and your blood runs cold when you see your husband’s right hand man step out of the shadows in the corner of the room.

Had he been there this whole time?

“Cancel my meetings for today. My wife is being particularly needy.” He gestures down at you lying mortified in his lap, trying to push your skirt back down as you desperately continue to suck on your daddy’s thumb.

“Got it, boss.” The buzzcut-haired man nods and leaves, and Ari turns his attention back to you.

“Next time you break one of daddy’s rules, I’ll spank you in front of all my men, you got that?” He shoved his thumb further into your mouth, choking you slightly as your eyes begin to water, but he’s got the same loving look on his face.

“My little baby… soon enough I’ll have you trained to know all of my rules, even if it’s too much for your little baby brain to handle.”

THE END