#dad bucky

"i didn't know this was ever an option, you know," tony grunts, his hair sinking into the tresses of your hair to push you down deeper on his cock. the thick tip touches the back of your throat, prompting your gag reflex as you choke on his cock.

tears prick your eyes but you keep your withering glare on the older gentleman.

when your dad asked you to help him close a joint venture, this was not what you had in mind. you thought that you were finally going to do something meaningful, something to actually get you some experience while interning for your own dad.

instead, he's treating you like a cheap token whore traded in for a lucrative deal.

he's spent the last few weeks fucking you over every possible surface in the office. in the kitchenette when everyone else is done with their break, pressing your cheek down against the table as he drives into you from behind. in the copy room with your tits on the scanner while he buries his face in your cunt, a printed copy of your nipples tucked away in his drawer as a commemorative gift.

and of course, in his office. spread open on his couch filled to the brim with cum, underneath his desk with his cock shoved down your throat while he holds his meetings, and against his floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.

but this one — this one takes the cake.

he made you take your blouse off and take your panties off. he's shortened a few of your skirts over time, leaving you in lengths that may be considered inappropriate if you bent down just enough. a few of his employees have given you lewd looks, licking their lips like they have a chance with you.

you've heard their locker room talks.

"god, wish i could fuck the boss' daughter in the conference room. we should all take our turns raping that fucking pussy."

you should be disgusted. you should, but your dad has also turned your brain to mush when it comes to sex. all you can think about is how much you can be stretched out and how many times you can cum in a day. so the idea of his employees taking their turn with you, fucking you until you're sobbing and crying on that large mahogany table, begging for them to let you go, is one that sparks warmth in your core.

however, he's specially prepared you for this one. for one tony stark.

you've seen the billionaire on the news. philanthropic endeavors. crazy inventions. he's rich. stupid rich in a way that you've never seen before.

"best pussy i've ever had, stark, i'm telling you," bucky raises his glass with a chuckle. "i know you've had your share, but so have i. i'm telling you, prime pussy."

"you raised it yourself too," tony chuckles, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. he observes the string of saliva that connects your lips to his cock, your chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "i didn't know you had such a good little dad fucker right here. i would've done this venture sooner if i knew you had such great currency."

"her tits are fun to fuck too."

tony licks his lips as he jerks your head to the side — just because he can. "ever think about knocking her up?"

air is pushed out of your lungs at the thought, your legs pressing together involuntarily.

whether it's because of the desire pooling in your gut or your attempt to avoid that exact event, you can't tell.

tony seems to prefer the former. "look at that. she likes the idea of it."

"just like her mother. a fucking whore who loves being bred."

"i'll give you shares of stark industries' newest sustainable energy division if you let me have a taste when these cute tits start producing milk." tony leans down to pinch your nipple through the flimsy lace, you wincing in return. "bet you'd look cute for your dad leaking."

bucky rises to his feet, approaching the desk only to look down at you. his gaze is clouded over, tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. you know that look. your stomach sinks.

"how about you give me a taste of your daughter instead? fair trade, don't you think?"

tony hums, "maybe once i get a taste of her. need pepper out of the house long enough to fuck open that tight cunt. she's a prissy, uptight one just like her mother. but god, bet she fucking moans like her mom too."

"for now, knocking this one up doesn't seem like a bad idea," bucky grins, grabbing your jaw and tugging you away from tony as he rips open his zipper to free his cock.

on instinct, you wrap your lips around his cock, hollowing out your cheeks to swallow him deep.

"jesus, didn't even have to ask," tony mumbles, standing to snatch the glass from bucky's hands and downing it. "you trained her well."

you bob your head, your tongue tracing over the familiar textures of bucky's cock. something about it gives you comfort. after tony fucked your throat, the way bucky lets you do whatever you want with his cock makes you feel at peace.

"she likes sucking cock. would probably suck off every man in this place if you could. isn't that right, honey?" bucky pinches your cheek.

you send a glare up in his direction, but there's no heat behind it. not when you're enjoying your dad's cock so eagerly. saliva pools quickly on your tongue, your slurps getting louder as you eagerly service his cock.

you want it. you want his cum in your mouth.

"shit, eager little whore," tony hisses, tucking his sunglasses on his shirt. "let me fuck that pussy, barnes. i'll give you an extra two percent at no additional cost."

"you serious?" bucky cocks an eyebrow.

"yes."

"put it in writing."

tony rolls his eyes at him. "really? i've got your kid's wet pussy waiting for me and you want me to draft up a contract?"

"put it on a fucking napkin for all i care. you're not getting her little slut hole unless you write it down."

with a grumble, tony grabs a pen from his desk and scribbles down his promise. "you want me to write that it's in exchange for your daughter's pussy?"

"no one but my lawyer will see it," your dad confirms. "and he's already had a taste of her too."

you remember tasting him — sam. fuck, he had a mouth on him that he put to good use on your tits and on your cunt. he had you spread wide open on his desk while bucky watched from the window. you were wailing, clamping your thighs around his head until you came all over his tongue. then he pushed his fat cock inside of you and you don't think you've ever been stretched wider in your life.

bucky was long and thick, but sam — that cock belonged in porn.

"sure she's clean? seems like you've been parading her around," tony drawls out as he signs it and pushes it in his business partner's direction.

"yes, i only allow people i trust to fuck her."

"honored to be included," tony smirks. "now, can i have her?"

bucky drags you off his cock and you unconsciously let out a whine at the loss. he smiles, thumb stroking your cheek. "such a good girl for dad, aren't you? you like dad's cock?"

you nod, whimpering.

"tell me you like dad's cock."

"i like dad's cock," you breathlessly say, eyes drawn back down to his length that's still standing tall and proud.

"good girl," bucky smiles, "but right now, i need you to take care of uncle tony's cock. hands and knees on the floor, baby."

with a reluctant sigh, you do as you're told. you get on all fours and hike your skirt up just a little bit higher. just enough to tease tony. bucky's taught you that you should never give someone everything. you give them a glimpse, you let them take the rest for yourself.

it's a good lesson because you can hear tony's growl behind you as he gets on his own knees and pushes your skirt up all the way to your hips. you can feel yourself dripping onto the carpeted floors.

"shit, her pussy's drooling. like a fucking dog."

"helps to give her treats when she's being good," bucky smiles, swatting your ass lightly.

"treats?"

"she likes her pussy spanked."

tony seems to delight in that piece of information and tests it out for himself. the first thwack against your cunt, spread open, has you jolting forward, cheek against the floor.

your body shudders at the sensation, the pain ricocheting through every nerve in your body, bubbling down into tingling until you're whining and nudging your ass back.

"she's perfect," tony exhales, his finger tracing your sensitive pussy lips until you're vibrating under his touch. "i need to know how you trained her. i need to do the same for my girl."

"just need to keep fucking her until she knows nothing else but your cock, stark. i trained this pussy to be mine and only mine. she can't fuck anyone else, not unless i let her." bucky props you back up on your hands, grabs your chin, smiling. "even then, she always comes back to me. her daddy's cock will always be her favorite. isn't that right?"

you swallow and nod slowly.

"open," bucky orders and you let your lips fall open. you know what he wants, so you also stick your tongue out and tilt your face up to look at him. he spits onto your tongue, letting that liquid pool, before he rights himself and slides his cock back into your mouth.

while you're distracted with your dad's cock in your mouth, tony begins to push into you from behind. his size is nowhere close to bucky or sam, but there's a way in which he angles his cock that hits your g-spot again and again.

your moans are muffled around bucky's cock as he fucks your throat, groaning every time he hits the back of it. "perfect fucking throat, sweetheart. you're such a good girl for your dad, even more so when you're spreading your legs to help your dad do work."

"this is the kind of shareholder value i'm looking for," tony chuckles, fingers buried into the flesh of your hips as he fucks into you in earnest. "tight little incest pussy. who knew you could have the perfect daughter? she might give my kid a run for her money."

bucky laughs, breathless. "she loves dad cock. loves older men in general. my dad's coming to visit next week, i might give him a taste of her too. he'd fucking love her."

"fuck, your old man's into this too? it really does run in the family."

"he fucked my sister when she came back from college. he didn't think i knew, but i fucking heard her crying every night while he called her a dirty little slut. i jacked off right next door."

"your family's fucked up, barnes."

"well, as long as it stays in the family, right?" bucky chuckles, breaking off into a pleasured moan when you curl your tongue around the tip, when you begin suckling on the head. "fuck, just like that, princess. you know exactly what i like."

"no longer in the family if you're sharing her," tony smiles, "not that i'm complaining. you're right. best fucking pussy i've had. just when i think she's getting a little loose, she tightens it right back up."

"taught her to do that too. make sure she keeps that cunt squeezing around my cock."

tony's breath stutters as more noises fall from his lips. "i'm gonna fucking cum. shit. should i pull out?"

"you really want to? she's on the pill. don't worry."

"goddamn, hope you take her off it soon. maybe send her to do her rounds with us and see which one of us can knock her up."

bucky's jaw clenches, he fucks a little harder into your throat. "no, if i ever take her off it, i'm going to be the only one fucking her. no one else gets to breed that perfect pussy. i'm gonna put a baby sister inside of her."

your stomach clenches, pussy clamping down around tony's cock. "shit, she likes that idea."

"she should, i've been putting it in her head since i started screwing her. she used to cry about it, now she just gets wet at the idea of carrying her own sister."

"f-fuck, i'm gonna cum. gonna cum inside you, pretty girl," tony moans, his hips picking up pace, thrusting deep inside you before warmth spills into your cunt.

bucky, seeing his, begins to fuck your throat harder, grabbing the back of your head and forcing you down until you're choking and gagging around his cock. it's his favorite sight, especially when your makeup starts to run from your tears.

"i'm gonna feed you my cum, baby girl. daddy's gonna give you your dinner." with a stuttered moan, bucky's cock spurts cum down your throat.

the sticky mess clings to the top of your mouth, spills from the corner of your lips. you can barely keep it in with how he's still using your lips to milk his cock of every last drop.

"swallow."

you do as you're told, letting his messy cum slide down your throat, just as tony pulls out of you. tony's thumb settles on your pussy lips, opening up your cunt to see his cum drip out of your hole.

"damn, better than a fleshlight."

"my personal one," bucky smiles.

"well, barnes, you've got yourself a deal. looking forward to working with you, partner."

requested by @hatewhooaaamisssoftwr8: Thank you for your AMAZING writing! Your ceo dad!bucky is another masterpiece! ;3 Do you write for Tony Stark? If so... Would ceo dad!bucky use his lil girl to close a business deal with him? Having her get on her knees and service Tony's Iron hard dick? Give him a handful and mouthful of her sweet tits? Let him pump her pussy full of his seed? ;3

a/n: i wrote this in a strange frenzy one afternoon. i've never written tony but i hope this does the request justice. if you enjoyed this, please like/reblog/comment. kisses! — divider by @/lobster-graphics

Not painful, exactly. It was more like a wave of pressure rolling from your spine through your abdomen, commanding stillness for just a few breaths. And it was stronger than the last one.

You set the granola bar on the coffee table and took a slow breath in through your nose. The couch cushion shifted beneath you as you adjusted, glancing at your watch. Seven minutes since the last one.

Across the room, Bucky, surrounded by the contents of your hospital bag, looked up like he’d just heard the tick-tick-tick of a bomb.

“That was one. That was definitely one, right?”

You nodded, calm. “Yep.”

He shot to his feet so fast his knees cracked. “Do we need to call someone? The hospital? Sam?”

You gave him a look. “Why would we call Sam?”

“I don’t know! For backup!”

Your hand instinctively moved to the round of your belly as you exhaled, long and steady. “Still breathing. Still pregnant. We’ve got time.”

He was already halfway to the hallway closet, rummaging through the shelves like it was a tactical gear locker. “Where’s the charger? We need your charger. And snacks. And—shit, where are my keys?”

You breathed in through your nose again, held for a count of three, then out.

“Bucky. Breathe. It’s just labor. Not HYDRA.”

He froze, one hand gripping a packet of gum, eyes blinking rapidly like you’d just slapped him with a wet newspaper.

“Right. Labor. You’re—wait, ‘just’ labor?!”

You met his wide-eyed stare with a calm, reassuring smile. “Women have been doing this for millennia, babe. We’re gonna be fine.”

He blinked. Then again. And again.

“You say that like you didn’t just tell me a human being is going to exit your body.”

You shrugged, casual. “She’s gotta come out somehow. We’ve trained for this.”

“We?”

“I read the books. You took notes.”

He ran both hands through his hair, muttering, “I didn’t take enough notes.”

You almost laughed, but another small wave passed through you, like an internal countdown.

Ten minutes later, the go-bag was zipped and standing by the door. Bucky was lacing up your sneakers, and you paused momentarily before standing to breathe through another contraction. You leaned against the back cushion, rolling your neck slowly as the tension peaked and faded.

Bucky started pacing a trail into the hardwood. His movements were sharp, precise, like muscle memory from every field operation he’d ever done, except now his objective was a birthing center and his enemy was time.

You glanced over at him, mild amusement lifting your brow. “Six minutes.”

He nearly dropped his wallet. “Oh my god, they’re closer.”

“They’re supposed to get closer.”

“I know! I know that.” He stopped mid-pace, squinting at you like you were some uncrackable code. “Why are you so calm?”

You smiled as you grabbed your water bottle and leaned one hip into the counter. “Because I’m having a baby, not a crisis.”

He stared at you like you’d just manifested divine serenity out of thin air.

“I married a goddess,” he muttered, stunned.

“Damn straight,” you said, brushing past him with your hoodie in hand. “Now grab the keys and let’s go.”

The car was already running when you eased into the passenger seat. You leaned your head back against the headrest, closed your eyes, and let another contraction ride its course. You counted softly under your breath until the tightness faded, leaving only warmth behind.

Bucky glanced over, gripping the wheel like he might snap it in half. “That another one?”

You nodded. “Shorter. We’re still fine.”

He tapped the steering wheel. “You want me to speed?”

You opened one eye. “And get pulled over while I’m in labor?”

He blanched. “Right. Okay. Controlled urgency.” He adjusted his grip, his knuckles white. 

You watched him for a few seconds, lips twitching. “Do you need me to drive?”

He blinked at you. “What?”

“Breathe, babe. In, two, three. Out, two, three.”

He huffed a breath that turned into a half-laugh. “I’m the soldier. You’re supposed to be the one panicking.”

“I’ve had cramps worse than this in traffic,” you muttered, unbothered.

“...That’s terrifying.”

“Mm-hmm.”

You reached for his hand across the console and gave it a steady squeeze. “I’m fine. And you’re doing great.”

He didn’t speak for a second, just looked over at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing—like he’d trained his whole life to protect people in crisis and suddenly found himself in awe of someone who didn’t need protecting.

Another contraction hit, and you closed your eyes to focus through it, your breath slow and measured.

“You okay?” he asked quickly, voice tight.

“Yep. Just picturing the epidural.”

He nodded solemnly, like you’d said you were planning to infiltrate a secure facility.

By the time you pulled into the hospital loop, the sky was overcast, gray and silver like brushed steel. Bucky parked with all the care of a man who wanted to break every speed law but knew better.

He vaulted out, circled to your side, and opened the door before you could unbuckle yourself.

“You good?” he asked, hands already there to help.

You nodded, fixing your jacket collar. “I’m not gonna shatter, Buck.”

But he helped you out anyway, hands firm at your waist, eyes scanning you like a threat might drop from the sky. Every movement screamed restraint. His fingers clung just tightly enough to keep steady, though he wasn’t sure if it was to steady you or himself.

*****

The hospital room was dim and cool, tucked into a corner of the labor and delivery floor. The lights had been lowered to a comfortable hush, soft lamplight warming the pale walls. The only sounds were the rhythmic beep of the monitor tracking the baby’s heartbeat, the low hum of machinery, and the whoosh of your blood pressure cuff inflating again, squeezing tight around your arm.

You sat upright on the bed, your back supported by pillows, knees bent slightly, hands resting on your belly. The IV line tugged gently at your wrist as you shifted. The next contraction built like a slow tide, cresting into a band of tightness that made your breath catch.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, focusing on the ceiling tile above the fluorescent light panel.

Bucky stood just beside the bed, practically vibrating with contained energy. His flesh hand gripped the railing. His jaw was set, eyes darting between your monitor and your face, his body tense as a wire.

Then the nurse entered, clipboard in hand and calm professionalism radiating from her.

“Pain level now?” she asked, her tone light but practiced.

You gave her a casual shrug. “Six. Still cursing internally, though. We’re okay.”

The nurse smiled knowingly. “Epidural?”

“Yes, please,” you answered instantly, then added with a grin, “In fact, I’ll take two. One for me, one for my husband.”

Bucky managed a chuckle, but his eyes narrowed. He could see how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. How your fingers tapped the blanket in a restless rhythm. That laugh, lighter than usual, wasn’t from humor.

He stepped closer, hand landing gently over yours to still them. “Hey. That’s your nervous laugh.”

You gave him a sheepish look. “I’m about to get a needle in my spine, babe. Let me have my moment.”

“Have as many moments as you need,” he said softly, squeezing your hand. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

The anesthesiologist entered, exuding calm authority. He explained the procedure as you nodded, trying to stay composed. Bucky listened too, but his attention stayed on you: your shoulders, your breathing, your hands.

When the nurse helped you lean forward over the tray table, Bucky didn’t just hover. He knelt beside you, one hand on your shoulder, the other hand gripping yours.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, eyes locked to yours, face inches in front of you. “Just like we planned. You breathe, I count.”

You gripped his hand hard as the antiseptic hit your skin. Your spine prickled. You leaned forward, trying not to shiver.

“Okay,” the anesthesiologist said gently. “You’re going to feel a little sting here, like a bee sting. Then some pressure.”

You nodded once, and then yelp-talked, “Bee sting—AH nope, that’s a real sting, holy hell, okay!”

You tensed, fingers clenching around Bucky’s like a vice. Your breath stuttered, your composure faltered.

Bucky tightened his hold without flinching. “You’ve got this. In, two, three. Out. You’re doing amazing.”

His voice was low. When your body locked, he forced himself steady, to be your rock.

“All done,” the anesthesiologist said quietly.

You slumped, exhaling hard. Bucky exhaled with you, forehead briefly pressed to your temple.

“Hooo…” you exhaled, “Okay. I’m okay. You okay?” you asked, already finding your center again.

He sat back on his heels, blinking like he’d just surfaced from underwater. “You yelped,” he said, voice soft. “You never yelp.”

“Yep. Got stabbed in the spine. I’m allowed a yelp.”

He kissed your knuckles without a word.

Fifteen minutes later, you were a completely different person.

“I can feel and move my legs,” you told the nurse as she adjusted your IV again, “but like… with a little lag? It’s hard to describe.”

“You’re in the sweet spot,” she said with a smile. “Let us know if it gets too heavy.”

You gave a lazy thumbs-up, then turned toward the anesthesiologist, who was packing up his tray. “You’re a magician. Absolute wizard. I’d tip you if I could.”

He chuckled. “No need. Good luck, you two.”

“Thanks. If I could bottle this feeling, I’d start an empire.”

You were glowing now, relaxed, euphoric, your confidence fully restored.

Bucky, meanwhile, sat in the corner chair looking like someone who’d survived a building collapse.

“You’re... fine?” he asked slowly.

“Better than fine,” you said, chewing ice chips. “I would like three more of those, one for every future migraine.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on your face.

“You were shaking,” he said softly.

You shrugged, brushing your fingers across your belly. “Briefly.”

“I didn’t like seeing you scared,” he admitted.

You turned your head toward him, your expression soft. “I panicked, then I didn’t. Happens to the best of us.”

The blood pressure cuff inflated again, biting tight into your upper arm, making you wince.

The nurse glanced over. “That’ll check you every 20 minutes now. Keep it on your arm, okay? We monitor for drops.”

You nodded, though your eyes cut toward the cuff like it had insulted you personally.

Five minutes later, once the nurse stepped out, you peeled the Velcro apart and dropped the cuff onto the rolling tray with casual precision.

Bucky looked up like you’d just pulled the pin on a grenade. “What are you doing?!”

“Taking a break,” you said sweetly.

“That’s medical equipment!”

“And it’s my arm,” you countered. “I needed a break.”

He stood, pointing at the monitor like it might back him up. “They said every 20 minutes!”

“I’ll put it back on in fifteen,” you said smoothly. “They’ll never know.”

“You are an actual menace.”

“I’m incubating a child. I’m allowed to be inconvenient.”

Five minutes later, true to your word, you quietly slid the cuff back on, Velcroing it into place as if nothing had happened.

Bucky crossed the room, leaned over, and kissed your temple. “Thank you.”

You reached up and squeezed his hand, thumb brushing the inside of his wrist.

“You’ve been more panicked than I have almost this whole time, you know” you murmured.

“That’s because you’re my world,” he said, brushing a knuckle gently across your cheek.

You smiled. “Your world is about to grow by one.”

*****

The room had quieted.

The storm had passed, its roar of commands, bright overhead lights, the rushed clatter of tools and footsteps was now replaced by a sacred hush. The monitors still hummed softly, but even they seemed gentler now, as if reverent of the moment. Outside the window, the sky was beginning to blush with sunrise, casting the walls in warm amber tones that made everything inside feel softer.

The scent of antiseptic lingered faintly beneath the sharper edge of sweat, cotton, and something sweeter, newborn skin, warm and clean. The air had that stillness hospitals sometimes managed after chaos, like a held breath finally exhaled.

You were propped up against a stack of stiff but forgiving pillows, your body still heavy with exhaustion, but light in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gown clung damply to one shoulder, your hair curling slightly at your temples. You felt raw, like you’d been hollowed out and created anew. 

Your daughter, impossibly small, impossibly perfect, was swaddled tightly and sleeping against your chest, her face tucked beneath your chin, her breathing quiet and even.

Bucky sat beside you, close but still somehow on edge.

He hadn’t spoken since the last nurse left. His shoulders were rounded forward, hands resting awkwardly, one around your wrist, the other hovering like he didn’t know what it was supposed to do now that the mission was complete.

But his eyes never left her. They were wide and searching, brimming with something just shy of disbelief.

“She’s okay,” you whispered, your voice barely louder than the monitor’s beep. “We’re okay.”

He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet. Still, he didn’t speak. His jaw worked silently, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

You reached out and ran your thumb across his knuckles.

“Are you ready to hold her?”

His gaze flicked up to yours. The fear there was visible, not fear of the baby, per se. It was closer to a fear of breaking the moment. Or of being unworthy of its perfection.

He blinked. Then again, slower. “I—” His throat bobbed. “Are you sure?”

“She’s yours too,” you said softly. You gave him a look, tired but unshaken, and something in him folded at the edges.

He nodded, hesitantly, and shifted forward. His movements were precise, like he was handling an explosive. You guided her into his arms, hands steady, watching his expression the entire time.

She was so light it startled him.

Her tiny form barely filled the crook of his elbow. Her head lolled until he cupped it instinctively, his palm supporting the delicate weight with trembling care.

He didn’t speak, didn’t move. 

At first, he barely breathed.

She made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and shifted in his arms, her face squishing slightly against the fabric of his shirt.

Bucky’s breath caught.

He looked down at her as if she’d been carved from something holy.

His metal hand hovered, uncertain, near her blanket. Then slowly—so slowly—he brought it closer, letting the cool vibranium knuckle brush over the soft fold of her blanket, then the downy edge of her hair.

“She’s so small,” he said finally, voice nearly lost in the hush.

“Our itty bitty little girl,” you whispered, the warmth of pride blooming beneath your fatigue.

He glanced up, eyes wide and shining. Then he looked down again, and you saw the shift. The slow surrender from fear to wonder.

You saw the shimmer in his expression, the awe creeping in like sunlight over the edge of a dark sky.

A tear tracked down his cheek, silent and unchecked.

“I didn’t think…” His voice cracked. He stopped, breathed, shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this.”

“You do,” you said gently. “You’re here. She’s yours.”

He stared at her, his daughter, as though afraid that blinking might break the spell. Another tear followed the first. And then another.

He bent forward slightly, pressing a kiss to her temple. The motion was reverent, slow.

She squirmed once, then sighed again, perfectly content, tucked into his arms.

“No one’s ever gonna hurt you,” he whispered. “Not while I’m breathing.”

You watched him, watched his walls drop, his posture ease. His body softened around her as he adjusted, drawing her in a little closer. His arms no longer quite so stiff. 

He looked at you again, and you barely recognized the expression on his face.

It was worship.

“She’s perfect,” he said softly.

You smiled through the ache in your chest. “Just like her dad.”

He leaned forward until his forehead touched yours, “Just like her mom.”

She shifted again, a tiny fist pressing into his chest like she already knew he was hers.

He closed his eyes, smiling now, the edges of him finally relaxing into something whole.

And for the first time since you’d arrived at the hospital, Bucky let himself breathe all the way out.

*****

The room had gone quiet save for the small steady breaths of your newborn dozing in the clear hospital bassinet beside your bed.

Your body was still aching, but your voice was calm when you finally broke the silence.

“Okay,” you murmured. “She’s good. I’m ready to clean off.”

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting beside the bed, cradling your hand like it was the only tether holding him together.

“Clean off?” he echoed.

“Shower,” you clarified, blinking up at the ceiling like you were mentally walking through a to-do list.

He blinked at you.

“You’re gonna STAND?” he whisper-shouted.

The nurse stepped in right on cue, already snapping on fresh gloves. “Yep, shower’s prepped. We’ll help her in, don’t worry.”

Bucky turned to her, then to you again, like he wasn’t quite sure whether this was medically advisable or outright witchcraft.

“You literally just gave birth.”

“And because of that I’m covered in sweat, blood, and whatever else,” you said matter-of-factly. “I need to clean off. What do you want me to do, lie here and marinate?”

He made a soft noise that might’ve been a laugh, or disbelief.

The nurse came to your side with a clean patient’s gown folded over her arm and a pair of non-slip socks in hand. “Let’s get you up slowly, okay Mama?”

You nodded, shifting with controlled, deliberate effort. You winced once, sucked in a slow breath, but never complained. Bucky rose without thinking, gently lifting your elbow and bracing his other hand at your back.

“Easy,” he murmured.

“I’m steady,” you agreed.

He helped ease you upright, and for a moment, you just sat at the edge of the bed, catching your breath. Then, with both Bucky and the nurse flanking you, you stood.

He kept expecting you to fold, to sway, to even just look a little fragile, but you didn’t. You were upright and moving. 

You walked toward the bathroom slowly, holding your gown closed behind you with one hand, bare feet padding against the tile.

The nurse pushed back the curtain around the tub and turned on the warm water, adjusting the pressure.

“You good?” Bucky asked, eyes scanning every inch of you like he still expected something to go wrong.

“Feels like I ran five miles,” you admitted, “but I’ll feel better after rinsing off.”

You stepped inside the tub, and the nurse offered to help with the gown. You nodded, and together, you untied the back and lowered the fabric from your shoulders.

You caught Bucky looking, not at your body, but at your face. And the look on his face made you pause.

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” He swallowed. “You’re standing there like it’s nothing.”

You gave him a faint smile. “It’s not nothing. I’m just doing what’s necessary.”

He didn’t respond, just kept holding your gaze like he’d never seen anything like you before.

The warm water hit your skin, and you exhaled slowly, letting it wash over you. The nurse stepped out to give you a little privacy while Bucky lingered just inside the threshold, eyes respectfully on your face, your hands, your posture.

You caught sight of a faint red trickle running down your thigh, and you groaned lightly.

“Ugh. Still bleeding.”

The nurse’s voice called from just outside the curtain, not missing a beat. “That’ll last a few days. Or weeks, sometimes.”

“Ugh,” you said again, dragging a hand through your damp hair. “So annoying.”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “You just went through all that… and it keeps going?”

You looked at him. “That a problem?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just… I didn’t know. I didn’t know any of this.”

“Well, now you do.”

He stepped forward, hands open, unsure whether to hold the towel or just keep standing there like he needed a role to fill.

“You’re okay?” he asked, softer now.

You reached for the towel and nodded. “I’m okay.”

He helped drape it around your shoulders, careful and quiet, like you were made of something both breakable and invincible.

The nurse returned, helped guide you back toward the bed, and got you settled into a clean gown with practiced, efficient movements. You combed your damp hair back from your face. Your cheeks were flushed, but your eyes were clear.

You let out a quiet sigh as you sat down again. “That’s much better.”

Bucky stood a step back, looking at you like he’d just witnessed something holy. 

“You really are indestructible,” he said softly.

You tilted your head. “Only when I’ve showered.”

He let out a quiet laugh, then stepped closer and kissed your temple. The baby stirred softly in her bassinet, and both of your heads turned, like magnets pulled toward that tiny sound.

You rested your hand against your stomach, now hollow, now healing.

“I’m starting to feel human again,” you said with a sigh.

Bucky looked at you like he always had, but now with something more, not just love, but reverence.

“I don’t know how you’re doing this,” he murmured. “Any of it.”

You smiled faintly. “Just one thing at a time.”

"Hey! Get back here, punk!" he calls, and Stevie's laughter only get's louder.

You shake your head, slicing the tops off the strawberries. "James Buchanan Barnes," you call towards the living room, "it is bedtime. Not WrestleMania!"

There's a pause. Then, in a very serious little voice, Stevie shouts, "I'm winning!"

A breathless and amused Bucky responds, "You're cheating! That's what you're doing."

You glance towards the doorway just in time to see your husband stumble past it, dramatically clutching his side while your five-year-old barrels after him with his Captain America shield strapped to his arm. It's slightly too big, slightly crooked, and hands down the cutest thing you've ever seen.

"Shield up!" he shouts.

Bucky drops to one knee as if he's been mortally wounded. "Oh no. Not the shield. I've been defeated!"

You don't miss the softness in his voice as he surrenders.

Stevie climbs onto Bucky's back triumphantly, tiny hands tangling in his dark hair. "I'm Steve Rogers!" he announces proudly.

Bucky freezes for half a second, careful and gentle as always, and squeezes Stevie's ankle. "You're Stevie Barnes," he corrects quietly. "But it sure seems like you've got some Rogers in you. That's for sure."

Stevie seems to consider this very seriously before nodding. "I'm both."

You swallow around the sudden thickness in your throat.

"Okay, super soldiers," you step in, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed. "Fruit break, then pajamas."

Stevie gasps, "Strawberries?"

"Just for you," you smile and rub his head.

He scrambles off Bucky immediately, loyalty shifting in an instant. "Mama wins," he declares as he runs toward you.

Bucky groans from the floor. "Traitor!"

You laugh as Stevie wraps himself around your legs. You pass him a slice, then hold one out to Bucky. He pushes himself up and walks over, taking it straight from your fingers, eyes never leaving yours.

"Thanks, sweetheart." he murmurs.

There's flour on your shirt from earlier, strawberry juice staining your fingertips red, and the kitchen light is bright, but when he looks at you like that, like life still surprises him, you feel warm all over.

Stevie tugs on Bucky's jeans. "Daddy, will you tell the story?"

Bucky looks down. "Which one?"

"The one about Uncle Steve."

There it is. That quiet shift in the air. Bucky crouches down so he's eye level with your son. "Alright," he says softly. "But only because it's a very important bedtime story."

You slide the cover over the strawberries and then lean back against the counter, listening as your husband tells him about a skinny kid from Brooklyn who never backed down, who always did the right thing even when it was hard, and who loved him very, very much.

Stevie's eyes grow heavy halfway through. And when Bucky scoops him up to carry him to bed, your son lays his head on Bucky's shoulder immediately, small hand resting over the metal plates of his father's arm like it's the safest place in the world.

Bucky turns to meet your gaze. "Can you believe we made him?"

"Yeah," you murmur. "I can."

You walk over and press a kiss to Stevie's hair, and then another on Bucky's lips.

"You're the best dad, Buck."

---

“Yep,” Bucky sighs.

“And you said your wife knew we were coming today?”

“She did.”

The men exchange looks—half amusement, half silent condolences—while Bucky presses his lips together and heads toward the front steps. He’s ready to go full Dad Voice if he has to, but when he unlocks the door and pushes it open, everything inside him just… short circuits.

Because it’s a vision.

A full-blown fever dream. The kind that punches him directly in the heart.

His wife is twirling across the living room in silk pajamas—the blush pink ones he got her for Christmas that she swore were “too pretty to actually wear.” Her hair is pinned in big velvet rollers. She’s holding a hairbrush like a microphone, belting the words to some ridiculous pop anthem like she’s on stage at Madison Square Garden.

And flanking her on either side?

Their daughters—two little chaos gremlins in matching baby-sized versions of her pajamas, identical rollers clipped into their tiny heads, jumping on the couch like it’s a trampoline as they scream-sing the chorus two beats behind the music.

He doesn’t even have the chance to say a word before his wife spins, hairbrush raised dramatically, and freezes at the sight of a very large, very silent group of mobsters standing in the entryway of her home.

Her eyes widen. She looks at Bucky. Then the men. Then back at Bucky.

“Oh my god—” she breathes, absolutely horrified. “Bucky, I forgot—”

He should be annoyed. He wants to be annoyed.

But then his daughters spot him. He has a split second of silence before—

“DADDYYYYYYYY!”

They launch.

Both of them. At the same time.

Tiny silk-wrapped missiles flying at top speed across the living room, hair rollers bouncing, high-pitched shrieks filling every corner of the house. Bucky immediately drops to a crouch to catch them, arms open, and they crash into his chest like they’ve been waiting all day for this exact moment.

And maybe they have.

“Hi, my pretty girls,” he murmurs, kissing both their cheeks as they cling to him like koalas. “What’s all this?”

“Mommy painted our nails!” announces the oldest, sticking her tiny hand into his face.

“We did a CONCERT!” the youngest beams, her hair rollers slipping sideways. “For YOU!”

Bucky’s heart goes soft—melted, liquid, useless. “I can see that.”

His men are trying not to laugh behind him, but they’re all smiling. Even the new guy, who usually looks like he chews nails for breakfast, is blinking suspiciously fast when the littlest one toddles up to him and proudly shows off her sparkly blue nail polish.

“Pretty, right?” she says, holding her hand out.

The guy—six-foot-four, covered in tattoos, has definitely killed people—carefully bends down to inspect her manicure like he’s been handed the crown jewels. “Prettiest nails I’ve ever seen.”

She beams and climbs right into his lap.

It’s over. The entire room is done for.

One by one, both girls begin crawling, climbing, and sprawling across Bucky’s men like it’s a jungle gym made of armed mafiosi. And the men—these ruthless, trained, terrifying soldiers—handle it like they were built for this exact job.

One gets assigned to hold glitter nail polish. Another becomes a human pillow. A third is instructed very seriously to “watch this dance move” and applauds like his life depends on it.

And Bucky?

He just stands there, girls clinging to him, heart actually aching with how full it feels.

His wife steps forward, cheeks flushed from dancing, rollers lopsided, smile sheepish.

“Your meeting,” she whispers. “I’m so—”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupts gently, “I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t even remember what the meeting was supposed to be about.”

She snorts, burying her face against his chest. “I really did forget.”

“I figured.” He kisses her forehead. “But if this is what you were doing instead… I can’t even pretend to be mad.”

When he finally looks toward his men, they’re already settled—completely domesticated, completely unfazed, completely wrapped around two little fingers with sparkly blue nail polish.

“Boss,” Sam calls from the couch, where one girl has claimed his lap and is braiding his hair with alarming confidence, “we’re gonna need to reschedule your meeting. The clients are busy.”

“VERY busy!” his oldest adds, tugging on a henchman’s sleeve. “We have to practice our next song!”

Bucky slides an arm around his wife’s waist and pulls her close.

“My girls,” he murmurs, kissing her temple, “cause more trouble than the entire mafia.”

She laughs softly against him. “Good trouble?”

“The best.”

And when the music starts up again and his daughters shout at him to sit on the couch so they can perform their “encore,” Bucky Barnes—mob boss, feared man, ruthless king of the underworld—sits down obediently.

The first time I got dizzy, I brushed it off.

The second time, I blamed it on standing too long.

The third time, I passed out cold on the hallway floor.

I woke up in the medical center, IV in my arm, Steve sitting in the corner of the room looking like someone had punched him in the stomach.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently, getting up fast. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

My voice was hoarse. “The baby?”

He nodded quickly. “They’re fine. Strong heartbeat. You scared us, though.”

“What… happened?”

“Dehydration. Fever. Blood pressure dropped. You weren’t saying anything.”

I looked away.

He knelt beside the bed, hand gentle on mine.

“You have to tell us when you’re not okay.”

“I didn’t want to worry anyone,” I whispered.

Steve gave me a look. “Buck would want you to worry him.”

My chest ached at his name.

“He’s still on comm silence, isn’t he?”

Steve nodded. “He’s not back for two more days.”

“Don’t tell him,” I said quickly.

Steve blinked. “Y/N—”

“I don’t want him distracted. It’s just bed rest, right?”

“Strict bed rest,” he confirmed. “And fluids. You need to let people take care of you.”

“I can do that,” I whispered.

But I didn’t know how true that would be until Bucky came home.

It happened like this:

Steve stayed with me for two full days. Brought me soup. Helped me to the bathroom. Carried me back to bed when I got dizzy again. Never once made me feel like a burden.

But the whole time, this storm hung over my head.

Because eventually, Bucky would find out.

And I had no idea how he’d take it.

I was half-asleep, curled in bed under a mess of pillows and soft blankets, when I heard his voice echo down the hallway.

It was calm.

Too calm.

Steve tried to intercept him in the hall.

I couldn’t hear every word, but I could hear the tone.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“She made me promise not to.”

“I’m her husband, Steve.”

“I know that. But she wanted to protect you.”

“She almost collapsed alone. You think that doesn’t tear me apart?”

The door opened seconds later.

And then there he was.

Bucky. Gear still on. Dried blood on his sleeve. Dirt on his boots. And eyes so full of worry it made my stomach twist.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He didn’t say anything.

Just crossed the room, dropped to his knees at my bedside, and cupped my face so gently it made my eyes water.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t want to distract you.”

He shook his head. “There is nothing—nothing—more important to me than you and that baby. You get that, right?”

Tears spilled over.

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known. I should’ve felt it. I should’ve been here.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I’m never leaving again.”

I took his hand, threading our fingers together. “They said I’ll be okay.”

“You better be,” he said, voice cracking.

He climbed into the bed, armor and all, and held me carefully against his chest. His hand slid protectively over my bump.

“Did you feel them move?” I whispered.

He shook his head.

Then froze.

Tiny pressure. Just under his hand.

A kick.

His eyes widened.

“Was that—?”

I nodded. “They missed you too.”

And he laughed. Just a little. Just enough.

Then he kissed my forehead and whispered, “We’re not doing this without me ever again.”

He stayed the rest of the night. Didn’t even shower.

Just curled around me, holding my hand, whispering promises to our unborn baby like they were sacred.

Bucky adjusted Jamie in his arms, gently running a hand over his soft hair.

“Guess it’s just me and you, huh, bud?” he murmured.

Jamie, half-sitting on Bucky’s lap, blinked up at his father and blew a raspberry.

Bucky smirked, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jamie stared at Bucky for a moment, his little hand coming up to pat Bucky’s scruffy jaw.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t like Daddy’s beard?”

Jamie squealed, giggling, before smacking Bucky’s cheek again.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “You’re ruthless, kid.”

Jamie babble-yelled in agreement.

Bucky smirked, bouncing him gently. “You’re not helping, you know? Everyone forgot my birthday. Even Mommy.”

Jamie blinked. Then let out a long string of baby babbles, as if he had a lot to say about that.

Bucky chuckled. “You think I deserve cake?”

Jamie clapped his hands, babbling enthusiastically.

Bucky sighed dramatically. “Well, too bad. No one remembers.”

Jamie gave him a judgmental stare, he then grabbed Bucky’s dog tags and yanked with all his tiny might.

Bucky winced, he gave Jamie a pout look, “Alright, alright I get it, I get it! You don’t wanna hear Daddy sulk.”

Jamie smacked Bucky’s chest, giggling and babble-shouted, slapping his tiny hands against Bucky’s chest.

Bucky chuckled. “That so? You think your mama and your brother and sister forgot my birthday?”

Jamie blew a raspberry.

Bucky smirked. “Yeah, I know. It’s not a big deal.”

Jamie grabbed at Bucky’s vibranium fingers, holding them in his chubby fists and shaking them.

Bucky shook his head. “You trying to tell me something, kid?”

Jamie let out a long string of babbles, his big blue eyes shining mischievously.

Bucky sighed dramatically. “Maybe they just don’t care anymore. I mean, I’m old, right?”

Jamie frowned and then he smacked Bucky’s face with his tiny hand.

Bucky choked on a laugh. “Okay, rude. I know I’m old, but you didn’t have to agree that fast, pal.”

Jamie giggled, patting Bucky’s cheek again, softer this time.

Bucky smiled, pressing a kiss to Jamie’s chubby little fingers. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid.”

And just as Bucky was about to poke Jamie’s chubby tummy…

The door burst open.

“Happy Birthday, Daddy!”

Natalia and Samuel came running in, holding a cake, candles lit and glowing.

You followed behind them, smiling brightly, carrying a little party hat for Bucky.

The moment Bucky saw all of you, his eyes widened in shock, his breath caught in his throat.

Because you all remembered.

Natalia and Samuel started singing at the top of their lungs,

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Daddy! WE LOVE YOU!!!”

Jamie, overwhelmed with excitement, flailed his arms and let out a loud squeal, babbling as if he was singing along.

Bucky looked at you, then at the kids, then back at you, his heart clenching and eyes glistening.

“You guys…” he started, voice rough with emotion.

You smiled, walking over and placing the party hat on his head.

“Did you really think we would ever forget your birthday?” you whispered, kissing his lips softly.

Bucky swallowed hard, his arms tightening around Jamie. “Maybe just for a second.”

Natalia gasped. “Daddy! You think we’d forget?”

Samuel grinned. “We were just acting, we care about you so much!!! We got you good, huh?”

Bucky shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah you got me good, alright.”

Natalia and Samuel jumped on the bed and the birthday celebrations had officially began.

Bucky closed his eyes, made a wish, and blew out the candles.

The twins cheered, Jamie squealed, and you hugged him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Bucky cut the cake, feeding you first, then the twins, and finally Jamie.

The second Jamie tasted the frosting, his eyes went wide and then shoved his entire chubby hand into the cake.

Bucky barely had time to react before Jamie smeared the frosting all over his own face.

Samuel laughed hysterically. “Jamie’s wearing cake!”

Natalia giggled. “He looks like a cupcake!”

Jamie, pleased with himself, babbled happily, clapping his sticky hands together.

Bucky groaned. “Well, there goes my son. He’s part cake now.”

You laughed, wiping Jamie’s face. “And it’s your fault for giving him a taste.”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “Guess I asked for it, hopefully no sugar rush.”

Jamie climbed onto Bucky’s lap, grabbing onto his vibranium fingers and mouthing them again.

As the laughter settled, Samuel tilted his head, looking at Bucky seriously.

“So, Daddy…” he said innocently.

Bucky raised a brow. “Yeah, bud?”

Samuel smiled innocently, “How does it feel to be older than dinosaurs?”

You burst into laughter, while Bucky stared at his son in pure betrayal.

“I’m not that old!”

Samuel snickered. “I dunno, Uncle Steve is, and you’re like…his age, so...”

Bucky groaned. “I’m regretting this birthday already.”

Before anyone could respond, Samuel, completely unaware and in the flow of the fun, innocently dropped the bomb, “And wait till you see your surprise party tomorrow at the compound”

Natalia gasped, smacking his arm. “Samuel!”

Samuel blinked. “What?”

Bucky grinned. “Surprise party, huh?”

You sighed, shaking your head.

Samuel smiled sheepishly, “Oops.”

Bucky turned to you, smirking. “You guys planned a party?”

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “Of course we did, we love you Bubba!”

Bucky shook his head, laughing. “Well, guess I better act surprised tomorrow.”

You grinned. “Better practice, old man.”

Samuel snickered. “Older than dinosaurs!”

Bucky chuckled, pulling all of you in. “I love you guys. Even if you think I’m older than a dinosaur.”

Jamie slapped his face again, letting his presence known.

Bucky groaned. “Okay, especially you, kid.”

You then looked at Bucky, “I have a special gift for you.”

Bucky grinned, already intrigued his mind already heading to sex, “oh yeah? What is it, doll?”

You smirked, pulling out a small box. “This is actually something different.”  

Bucky took the box, curiosity flickering in his blue eyes. When he opened it, he froze.  

Inside was a custom-made dog tag necklace, but instead of military details, it had something else engraved, 

James Buchanan Barnes  

Loving Husband & Dad

Forever Our Hero

Bucky stared at it, throat tightening.  

You gently touched his hand, “I know how much your old tags meant to you, but I wanted to give you new ones. Ones that represent what you are now.”  

Bucky swallowed hard, looking at you with so much emotion in his eyes.

“This is…” He exhaled, voice thick, “This is perfect, doll.”  

You smiled, taking the necklace and clasping it around his neck. “Happy Birthday, my love.”  

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. 

Instead, he pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss, pouring all his love and gratitude into it.  

The twins made a yew sound, but Bucky simply smiled still kissing you, because he knew he's surrounded by love.

Love from you and his children.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “Best damn birthday ever.”  

Jamie simply blew a raspberry.

Happy Birthday, Bucky.

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There’s an hour before you need to leave for school. You’ve already changed into your outfit for the day – a baggy hoodie and a pair of jeans with your trusty converse trainers. You head into the kitchen – the TV is still on in the living room. Your Dad is probably still asleep, in his usual spot on the living room floor. You know how badly he sleeps so you leave him to it for a little longer. It’s not like he has anywhere to be anyway.

You open the fridge – nothing much in there, just the last few bits of the groceries you bought last week. You’d hoped your Dad would replenish the fridge but he rarely remembers. His wallet is on the side so you take out a couple of twenties to pick some stuff up after school. You’ll pocket the change – you figure it’s your wages for doing most of the housework. Bucky must agree because he’s never called you out on it.

There are some eggs and a couple of slightly dry pieces of bread. You inspect them carefully but no mould so you start making scrambled eggs on toast, enough for you and your Dad. He often skips breakfast unless you make it. He just forgets.

You stir the eggs as your Dad comes into the kitchen, pulling a t-shirt on. His eyes land on you and his expression softens “Hey. You’re up early.”

“Yeah, it’s Monday. Back to school.”

Bucky nods “Oh yeah… Do you… Do you need anything?”

You shake your head “No, I did my homework on Friday. Everything’s sorted.”

He sets up the coffeepot and glances in the fridge “No milk?”

“No. I’ll get some stuff after school, text me if you think of anything.”

Bucky nods, running a hand through his hair “Thanks kid.”

You watch him as he shuffles around the kitchen, getting his coffee ready. Like every movement is a massive effort for him. Some days are better than others. Ever since Steve passed away he seems to be having more bad days than good though.

You serve up the scrambled eggs and toast, placing your Dad’s place in front of him as you sit opposite him at the table. He gives you a small, grateful smile “Thanks kid. Again.”

Bucky’s struggling. That’s easy enough to see. He’d saved you both from Hydra a few years ago. You were his child. In the emotional and biological sense. Hydra had impregnated another super soldier with Bucky’s DNA to see if the child would also be enhanced. That was a laugh – you most definitely weren’t. In fact, you were a pretty wimpy kid, crying a lot over the slightest injury and physically quite weak. Hydra had quickly given up on their experiments with you and eventually you were mostly used as a carrot for your Dad. If he messed up or failed – you were the one who suffered.

You’d both lived in Wakanda for a while and had both been wiped out by the blip. Now you were both back and living in a small apartment in Brooklyn. Bucky had received a full pardon as long as he attended regular therapy sessions. Supposedly you could both go back to ‘normal life’.

Except you had no idea what normal was. And Bucky’s idea of normal was now 80 years out of date.

“Are you doing anything today?”

“Therapy. Probably go and see Yori.” You nod, glad that your Dad has a friend. Even if he is an old man. Bucky looks at you “What about you? If you wanna go to a friend’s house or something, that’d be fine-”

You shrug “I’m okay. Might go to the library.”

He keeps his gaze on you as he takes another bite “You doing okay kid?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You weren’t fine but then neither of you were. Trying to look after yourself and your Dad was taking its toll on you. And school was proving to be difficult. You’d never been to school before. Hell, you’d never been around kids your own age. It was like the kids spoke a different language to you, discussing things you had no idea about. They made fun of the way you dressed, the way you spoke, your mannerisms… You supposed you were a little strange to them but you couldn’t help it. Growing up in a facility instead of a home, particularly one like Hydra, will do that to a person.

“What are you doing for lunch today?”

“Lunch?” Bucky repeats the word like it’s a foreign concept to him before nodding “Probably grab something with Yori.” You feel a bit better. At least he does eat when he’s out with Yori “What about you?”

“I’ve got some money; I’ll grab something from the canteen.”

“I should’ve made you something. Should’ve made you breakfast too.”

“It’s fine-”

“No, it’s not.” Bucky runs a hand over his face “I’m the parent, you’re the kid. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

Things had mostly been okay in Wakanda. You’d made friends whilst he was in his cryogenic sleep. You’d stayed with a nice Wakandan family. Steve had visited whenever he could. When your Dad had woken up you’d stayed with him and things had felt good. He was happy, glad that everything Hydra put in him had been removed. He’d told you stories about the 1940’s, taught you how to skim a rock over the lake. It had been… Nice.

Since moving to Brooklyn though he seemed to be getting worse rather than better. You supposed it didn’t help that he didn’t really have a purpose. No job, no real friends… At least you had school to go to even if you did hate every second you were there.

“It’s okay Dad, honestly.” You take a bite of your food “I’m getting pretty good at cooking, huh?”

Bucky gives a small smile and nods “Yeah, you’re getting real good. Dunno where you got that from.”

“You can learn anything on the internet.” The internet was like your favourite thing now that you were free. Access to all these skills and it was completely free… “It’s Mrs Brown’s birthday next week, you know, the lady downstairs? I thought I might try and bake her a cake.”

“You want any help?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Are you any good at baking?”

Bucky thinks for a moment “Been a long time since I gave it a go but… My Mom was good at baking. Maybe some of her skills rubbed off on me.”

“Worth a shot.” You grab both the empty plates and take them to the sink. You’ll wash them up later – no point asking Bucky, he’ll only forget “I gotta go.”

“Hey kid?” You pull on your backpack and look at him. Bucky gives you a small smile “I… I’m doing my best. You know that, right?”

You nod “Yeah. Of course.”

He stands up and pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. You hug him back. Despite how exhausted you are and how you wish you could just be a normal kid… You could never be angry with Bucky. He hadn’t asked for a kid anymore than you’d asked to be born but you were here and you knew he loved you. You knew he was doing his best. Bucky had tried to shield you from the worst of Hydra but you’d overheard enough over the years to know that Bucky had been through Hell.

There was plenty that Bucky got right. If he heard you having a nightmare he was immediately in your room, stroking your hair and reassuring you everything was okay. That nothing would get you now, not while he was here. You’d come home from school one day upset because some girls had made fun of your hair – you hadn’t wanted to talk about it so he’d ordered pizza and put on an old movie he’d loved when he was a kid, wrapping you in a blanket and tucking you up next to him. Your History paper on World War 2 he’d helped you with had come back with an F and Bucky had gone in to argue with the teacher – he argued he’d been there, he knew how it went down and your grade had been changed.

 Bucky presses a kiss to the top of your head and mumbles “I’m sorry kid, I promise I’m trying.”

“I know you are Dad, it’s fine.” You mumble “I love you.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

Eventually you pull away to go to school and he ruffles your hair with a smile “See you later. Be good, okay?”

“You got it.”

Your POV

You huffed, smoothing out the front of your dress, hyping yourself up in front of the mirror before slipping on your heels, taking them off and putting them back on again.

Then slipping one off before strapping it back on firmly in place.

There was no reason for you to be nervous.

You looked amazing. There was no doubt there. That shade of pink was radiant against your skin. Not a hair out of place. Your makeup was perfect. Yet your heart wouldn't stop beating just a smidge too fast. You deserved this. After a long, exhausting week you deserved a day to yourself to just feel good and relaxed. Yet your nerves were lit ablaze while you double checked your lipstick.

You were a grown ass woman, you didn't need to explain yourself to anyone as to why you were seeing this movie alone.

Dressed up in your cutest matching pink outfit.

You could do whatever you wanted...Is what you whispered to yourself before grabbing your purse and making a beeline towards to door before you changed your mind again. You pulled into the parking lot, glad your decided to wait a while to see this movie instead of going on opening night, noting it was a much quieter night, easing some of your nerves.

You went over to the snack counter, browsing the wide selection of candy, grabbing both sour candy and chocolate before joining the line to have your ticket scanned. You glanced down at your outfit once again, smoothing your a hand over your hair before straightening your shoulders.

You deserved this.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's heart swelled at the little clicks his daughters dress up heels made as they made their way up to the snack counter hand in hand; she was a ball of pink and frills with a tiny purse to finish the look off. She stumbled slightly, keeping up with his long strides, eyes wide taking in her surroundings along with the smell of fresh popcorn.

"What do you feel like getting jellybean" Bucky picked her up, letting her scan the rack of candy while he ordered a large popcorn and soda.

"This please daddy?" She pointed to a large swirly rainbow lollypop, waiting patiently when he set her back down making their way towards the ticket line. Her hand was still firmly holding onto his, a gasp slipping past her lips when her eyes landed on the best thing imaginable. Bucky looked up towards the direction his daughter was staring in, curious about the tiny gasp she let out and what had suddenly caught her attention.

The prettiest doll she'd ever seen. But in real life.

She couldn't take her eyes off her pretty pink dress or her matching heels. She was sure her favorite Barbie doll at home had the same shade of lipstick as hers. She clung onto Bucky's leg as they made their way over, tugging at his jeans to get his attention.

"Daddy! It's a Barbie doll" She whispered as he crouched down to her level, "She's so pretty" He could tell by her antsy squirming she wanted to talk to the real life Barbie boll, itching to take off at any moment. Bucky blinked, feeling his heart flutter, brows furrowing at why it was doing that, stop that.

But Bella was right.

She was pretty.

As soon as he saw who his daughter was pointing to, his own mind momentarily stopped working, only noticing her take off when he saw a blur of pink dash away, making a bee line towards the young woman.

Shit.

Your POV

"Hi" A small voice chirped behind you, leaving you confused when you didn't see anyone near by. Until you looked down. You smiled seeing the little girl behind you dressed in all pink, the tiara on her head slightly crooked, a lollypop sticking out of her purse. "You look so pretty"

"Thank you sweetheart" You cooed, gasping when a handsome stranger, clearly her father, grabbed her into his arms, shaking his head. He had a sparkly gold tiara on his head matching hers, flecks of pink glitter dusting his cheeks, some sprinkled onto his fluffy chestnut locks. You couldn't help the smile that spread onto your face when your eyes landed on the many magnets that were stuck onto his arm ranging from pink hearts to rainbows and the Barbie logo.

"Bella" He scooped her up, blowing a raspberry onto her cheek making her giggle, "You can't run off like that babygirl"

"Sorry daddy, wanted to see Barbie" She gave him her best pout, making you laugh, your own cheeks heating up when he looked over at you with a shy smile, matching hers.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

A whole ass DILF.

You shook your head, figuring he probably had a wife or girlfriend, there was no way he was single.

Bucky's POV

"She's really exited" Bucky said apologetically while you both had your tickets scanned, walking towards the same theatre room, butterflies fluttering in his tummy again.

"It's okay, this little princess made my day" You tried to sound light hearted though you were nervous meeting his soft baby blue eyes.

"Can she sit with us?" Bella pipped up before anyone sat own, giving her dad another dose of puppy eyes and a pout before turning to you and giving you the same treatment.

"Oh-uh-" Bucky figured you would've come with friends (maybe even a boyfriend...hopefully not...), though he didn't see anyone around when you were in line earlier. Either way, he was sure you wouldn't want to spend your movie day with a single dad and his very cute, albeit excited little girl. "I don't know baby-

"Actually, it's just me, I-don't mind" you smiled at the way Bella's eyes lit up along with an excited squeak, wiggling out of Bucky's hold to slip her hand into yours, pulling you to the middle of the row.

"Thank you" Bucky gave you a grateful smile, a tiny greedy part of him happy to sit with the sweet stranger his daughter was enamored with.

****

You adored watching the movie with Bella, leaning down whenever she'd whisper something, her hand often holding onto your pinky through most of the movie. You both made your way out of the theatre once the end credits began to roll, feeling a pang of something again when you noticed your cars happened to be parked side by side.

What were the chances-

Stop.

He probably has a partner, you scolded yourself internally while Bella gave you a sleepy hug before Bucky settled her into her car seat and shutting the door softly.

"Hi again" Bucky smiled bashfully, hoping the pink on his cheeks wasn't too obvious as he leaned against his car door, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Why would someone as pretty and kind hearted as you want to go on a date with someone who came with baggage.....but maybe...

"Hi again" You nearly stumbled over your words, your heart hammering while he fidgeted with his phone, chewing his lip before speaking.

"I wanted to say thank you again. For today. I-I hope this isn't too forward but-uh-to say thank you properly-maybe coffee? If you don't like coffee then something else-dinner? Maybe a date-unless you don't want it to be a date-"

"I'd love to" you cut off his nervous rambling while Bucky let out the breath he was holding, giving you his phone for you to add your number in. He waited for you to get into your car, waving as you pulled out before getting into his own car, surprised to find Bella now wide awake with a cheeky smile on her face.

"Will we see Barbie again?" Bella eyed Bucky curiously while Bucky's phone pinged with a text message from you.

Can't wait to see you, keep the tiara on x

Bucky grinned, reaching behind to playfully tickle her foot before smiling at his phone again.