#dad!buckybarnes

[ker0ppik00]

🚨 Before You Read:

SingleDad!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader.

Established relationship. Family themes. Domestic fluff. Tooth-rotting sweetness.

English is not my first language. I search a lot of words.

More of work

Family Ever After

This is a continuation of my story Family in Between

Somehow, everything changed because of that one tiny, three-letter word spoken by an overwhelmed Rebecca.

"Mom."

You still remember the exact moment Rebecca had said it for the first time, throwing her arms around your neck after standing up to the girls who insisted she didn’t have anyone who loved her. You didn’t correct her, just hugged her back and when Bucky found out, he cried the moment you were both out of Rebecca's sight.

But the most precious thing for you is that it never stopped after that. Not once, not even for a single day.

The very next morning, Rebecca had wandered into the kitchen rubbing sleep from her eyes saying a casual "morning, Mom” like she'd been saying it her entire life, and you'd nearly dropped the mug in your hands.

A week later, she was running through the Avengers Tower hallways with a drawing clutched tightly in her fist.

"I made this for my mom!"

She'd announced it proudly to anyone willing to listen.

Sam had looked between you and Bucky with the biggest grin imaginable. "Guess that's settled then."

Rebecca didn't seem to realize there had ever been a time she hadn't called you that, because now as far as she was concerned, you were Mom. That was simply a fact to her as obvious as Bucky being Dad.

She introduced you that way without hesitation too.

"This is my mom."

To teachers, to neighbors, to the cashier at the bakery who gave her an extra cookie every Saturday, even to the little girl she'd made friends with at soccer practice.

"My mom makes the best pancakes."

"My mom braided my hair today."

"My mom says I have to wear sunscreen."

Always my mom, and never your name or "Dad's girlfriend." Just… Mom.

Well, It was Mom when she wanted another bedtime story. Mommy when she woke up sleepy and climbed into your lap before breakfast. Mama whenever she got excited. And Momma whenever she was particularly dramatic which, according to Bucky, was becoming an alarming amount lately.

Each version sounded different, but carried the exact same excitement, and the same pride, like she still couldn't believe she finally got to say it. But with that title, Rebeca also became a bit possessive in the way only a little girl who had finally found her mother could be.

At the playground, another kid once asked if you'd push the swings too.

Rebecca frowned. "My mom is pushing my swing first."

At the grocery store, she'd proudly hold your hand, and whenever someone asked where her parents were, she'd point without hesitation.

"My dad's over there," then she'd squeeze your hand tighter. "And this is my mom."

And not even Bucky was safe from Rebecca’s claim, and soon enough movie nights at home became negotiations.

"Mom sits next to me,” Rebecca said, hopping onto the couch.

Bucky looked up from the popcorn. "But I always sit next to—"

"Nope." Rebecca was already patting the spot beside her on the couch. "Mom sits here."

Bucky sighed dramatically. "I see how it is."

"You can sit on the other side."

Like she was doing him a favor.

There even were exclusive clubs that consisted of Rebecca dragging every blanket in the apartment into the living room and forbidding Bucky from being part of it.

"We're making a fort.”

Bucky looked up from his book. "I like forts."

Rebecca shook her head sympathetically. "You can’t come, daddy. Boys aren’t allowed."

"What if I promise to behave?"

Rebecca considered it for exactly two seconds.

"...Still no. Just me and Mommy," then she grabbed your hand and disappeared into the blanket fort without another glance.

Bucky claimed he was deeply offended but you found him five minutes later taking pictures of the two of you from outside the fort because, apparently, "my girls look too cute."

The funniest part, however, was arguments father and daughter had that always started the same way.

"I love Mom."

Bucky would look up from whatever he was doing. "I love her too."

Rebecca would immediately narrow her eyes. "I love Mom more!"

Bucky would gasp dramatically. "I don't know about that."

And from that, the conversation always escalated.

“I loved Mom first today." Rebecca would say.

Bucky would always counter with something equally ridiculous. "I've loved Mom longer."

And you'd usually end up laughing too hard to intervene.

Which is exactly how you find yourself standing barefoot on the beach a few months later. Rebecca is entirely covered in sand, and you aren't much better because the "quick stop" at the beach before dinner had somehow turned into nearly two hours of building what Rebecca insisted would become the biggest sandcastle ever.

But now the tide was beginning to creep closer, and the dinner reservation closer.

“Babydoll,” Bucky called out to Rebecca. “We should probably head out. We've got dinner reservation in forty-five minutes.”

Rebecca kept patting the sand flat with complete concentration. "But Mom said I could stay ten more minutes."

You looked up just in time to see Bucky slowly turn toward you with one eyebrow lifted.

"Oh," he said. "So that's why."

You blinked innocently. "Why what?"

"Now I understand why she loves you more than me. You spoil her."

You laughed and Rebecca finally looked up from her castle, horrified.

"I do not love Mom more because she lets me stay longer."

Bucky folded his arms. "That's what it sounded like."

Rebecca gasped so dramatically you almost applauded. "I love Mom because she's the best."

"I'll give you that," Bucky admitted.

"And because she's pretty."

"I definitely agree."

"And because she gives the best hugs."

"I can't argue with that one either."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. "...Stop agreeing."

"I can't help it."

She planted both hands on her hips. "I love Mom more than you do."

Bucky let out an exaggerated laugh. "Oh, sweetheart. I don't think so."

"I do!"

"I've loved your mom longer than you have."

Rebecca opened her mouth, paused, and recovered almost instantly. "But I'm Mom's baby."

You smiled. "That's true."

Rebecca pointed triumphantly at Bucky. "See?"

Bucky looked at you instead. "I thought I was your baby."

You laughed. "I think there's enough of me to love both of you."

Rebecca immediately hugged your waist. “I still love you more."

Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders from the other side. "I don't know… I think I’m winning. I definitely love you more than Rebecca."

Rebecca groaned dramatically.

“You don’t! I love mom so much…” She searched for the strongest argument in her entire six-year-old vocabulary. "...I'd even share my birthday cake."

You gasped. "The whole cake?"

Rebecca nodded gravely. "The frosting too."

Bucky whistled. "Wow. That's a serious amount of love."

Rebecca smiled proudly. Then Bucky looked at you, rubbed his chin thoughtfully once, and his teasing smile softened into something quieter.

"Well..." He spoke almost absentmindedly. "I love her so much that I'm gonna marry her."

Rebecca froze. "...What?"

"No, you're not." You laughed, shaking your head, but Bucky reached into the pocket of his shorts.

"I think I am."

Your smile faltered as Rebecca's eyes grew impossibly wide, and he pulled out a small velvet box. Just like that, like it had been sitting in his pocket the entire afternoon. Maybe it had.

"I was going to wait until after dinner." Bucky laughed softly. "But apparently we're listing reasons why we love you."

He opened the box, making the ring catch the afternoon sunlight, and your breath catch.

Bucky’s gaze never left yours as he lowered himself onto one knee in the sand. Rebecca let out the loudest gasp you'd ever heard.

"I figured I'd make my best argument."

Your heart stopped. "Buck..."

Rebecca looked between the two of you with impossibly wide eyes, as if she couldn't decide whether to squeal or stay perfectly still.

Bucky smiled.

"You know… There was a long time where I didn't think I'd ever have any of this," his hand made a small gesture around him. "I didn't think peace was something I got to have or that I deserved it."

His eyes flicked toward his daughter and the little girl immediately smiled back.

"Then Rebecca came along and changed everything.”

Rebecca puffed out her chest proudly. "I know."

He chuckled.

"I spent years worrying I'd never be enough. That I couldn't give Rebecca everything she deserved. She deserves a home that feels complete."

His eyes found yours again and you laughed through the tears already threatening to spill.

"You walked into our lives. You never tried to replace anyone, and you never forced anything. You just loved her as if she'd always been yours."

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically. "She makes the best pancakes."

Bucky smiled. "She does."

"And the best hot chocolate, and the prettiest braids too."

You felt tears spill over before you could stop them. "The prettiest braids…?"

Rebecca again nodded, but this time very seriously. "And you know where all my stuffed animals like to sleep."

Bucky laughed before looking back at you. "See?"

You covered your mouth, already crying, and Bucky continued.

"You gave Rebecca the mom she'd been dreaming about. And you gave me something I stopped believing I could have."

He looked at the two of you like the answer had always been standing right there, and smiled sheepishly, his thumb brushing over the ring one last time.

"So… Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you and raising our little girl together? Will you marry me?”

Rebecca looked at you with the kind of excitement only children could manage. "Say yes!"

You laughed through your tears and nodded so quickly it almost made you dizzy.

"Yes," your voice broke immediately. "Yes. I will marry you.”

Bucky's shoulders dropped in visible relief, and a grin spread across his face so wide you thought it might stay there forever. "Really?"

You laughed. "What do you think?"

He slipped the ring onto your finger with hands that were just slightly shaking. The moment he stood, you were already throwing your arms around his neck before you could think, laughing through tears as he caught you effortlessly, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other came up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped down your cheek, lingering there for the briefest second as if he still couldn't quite believe this was real.

His lips found yours with a tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs, smiling against your mouth before the kiss deepened naturally, unhurried and full of every feeling neither of you had managed to put into words. You melted into him without hesitation, your fingers threading into the hair at the back of his neck as if you'd been waiting for this moment just as long as he had.

It tasted like salt carried by the ocean breeze, like laughter that hadn't quite faded, like happy tears neither of you bothered wiping away. Like promises already made long before a ring had ever found your finger.

When you finally pulled away, not because either of you wanted to but because you simply needed to breathe, your foreheads rested together, noses brushing, both of you smiling so hard it almost made the tears start all over again.

Meanwhile, Rebecca was bouncing so hard in place she could barely contain herself. "Can I hug too?"

You both laughed.

"You never have to ask."

She launched herself at both of you so hard you nearly toppled back into the sand in one tangled, laughing hug.

"My mom and dad are getting married!" Rebecca cheered.

She looked at the ring, then at you and back at Bucky.

"This is my best day ever!"

You kissed the top of her head. "It might be mine too."

“I love you, mommy,” Rebecca wrapped both arms tightly around your waist. "I love you more than dad does."

Bucky pretended to sigh before wrapping an arm around both of you. "Well, Becca, I love your mommy so much that I'm giving her my last name."

Rebecca froze completely when she registered Bucky’s words, her mouth open and her eyes comically enormous.

"...Wait. Mom is going to be a Barnes?"

Bucky nodded. "If she'll have me."

Rebecca gasped so loudly a family walking farther down the beach actually turned to look.

"THAT MEANS..." She practically squealed. "I'M GONNA HAVE THE SAME LAST NAME AS MOMMY?!"

You laughed so hard you had to wipe fresh tears from your cheeks. "Looks like it."

Rebecca threw both hands into the air. "WE'RE ALL GONNA MATCH!"

She looked like she'd just been told Christmas had been extended to the entire year, and without another word, she grabbed one of your hands and one of Bucky's and squeezed with all the strength a girl her age could manage.

Bucky looked at you, and you looked back at him. Neither of you corrected her, because she was right. It had been your family all along, the ring hadn't created it, it had simply given a name to what the three of you already were.

[heldbybarnes]

So I’ve read some of your dad!Bucky stuff and love them! So I’ve got a little ask if that’s okay. Bucky coming back from the Blip only to find out he has a son with an Avenger!female who stayed with him in Wakanda after the events of Captain America:Civil War (she was also Team Cap) and they fell in love during that time. It’s a shock for sure, how do you think he’d process this and adjust to being a father to five year old and living with his Avenger girlfriend?

bucky would for sure be crushed but i also think he would do great bridging that gap and stepping into the role!

---------

When the world came back, Bucky thought he’d been given a second chance. A strange, cruel mercy after five years of dust and silence. He’d spent what felt like seconds in nothingness, and yet the world had aged, changed, moved on without him.

And you— you had too.

He’d prepared himself for that. For walking into the compound and seeing new faces, new teams. For Steve’s absence. For empty halls and changed missions. What he hadn’t prepared for was walking into the common room and finding a five-year-old boy sitting cross-legged on the couch, building a tower out of magnetic blocks, humming to himself under his breath—low and steady, the same way Bucky used to hum when his nerves got bad.

The same tune, even.

“Who’s the kid?” he’d asked Sam quietly, standing just inside the door.

Sam had glanced up from his tablet, smirk twitching faintly. “You should probably ask his mom about that.”

And then— your voice.

“Hey, honey, did you—” You froze mid-sentence, still wearing your training gear, eyes wide and disbelieving as you stared at him like he’d stepped out of a dream. “Bucky.”

He didn’t know how long you stood there. A beat. A lifetime.

You crossed the room first, slowly, like you were afraid he’d disappear again. He met you halfway. You reached up and touched his cheek, fingers trembling. “You’re real.”

“‘M real,” he murmured, swallowing hard, and his metal hand came up to cup the back of your neck like it used to. “You’re—god, you’re still here.”

The boy on the couch looked up at the sound, eyes the soft gray-blue of an early winter morning. His brow furrowed, head tilting. “Mom?”

Mom.

The word cracked something open in Bucky’s chest.

He looked between you and the boy, pulse roaring in his ears. “...Yours?”

Yours. His.

You didn’t answer right away, and he saw the guilt flash behind your eyes. Not shame, never shame—just the kind of heartbreak that came with impossible choices.

“Bucky,” you said softly, “this is Jack.”

Jack.

“Jack,” you said again, voice trembling. “Baby, this is—this is your dad.”

The kid blinked up at him. Quiet. Calm. He had your nose, but his jaw—his stubborn little jaw—was all Bucky.

Bucky sank to one knee before he could think about it. “Hey, buddy,” he said, voice rough. “Guess you got my eyes.”

Jack looked him over, curious but cautious, then asked, “You were gone.”

It wasn’t an accusation. Just a fact, one that hit Bucky harder than any punch he’d ever taken.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I was. But I didn’t wanna be, kiddo.”

Jack studied him for another long moment, then pushed one of the magnetic blocks across the coffee table toward him. “You can build with me.”

That was the first time Bucky cried since coming back.

The next few weeks were strange in the way new life always is.

Jack followed you everywhere, always watching this new man with suspicion and fascination. He’d ask questions in little bursts— “Were you in space?” “Why is your arm shiny?” “Did you know Uncle Steve?”

And Bucky— Bucky answered every single one.

He’d never realized how easily gentleness could fit him, how naturally his hand could find the back of a small head, ruffle hair, steady little shoulders.

Jack liked to sleep in the middle of your bed. The first night Bucky stayed over again, the kid had shuffled half-asleep to your room, climbing up with his blanket and a stuffed wolf clutched to his chest. He blinked when he saw Bucky lying there beside you.

“You’re big,” Jack mumbled, climbing right over him anyway to curl up between you both.

Bucky just stared at the ceiling for a long minute, every muscle in his body tight, his throat thick. You reached across Jack and laced your fingers through Bucky’s metal ones.

“He does that every night,” you whispered. “If you stay, he’ll expect you to read him a story.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh that turned shaky. “Guess I can manage that.”

And he did.

Night after night, he learned the rhythm of bedtime stories, of jam-smeared fingers and little sneakers in the hallway. Learned that his son liked apples but not the skin, that he hated loud noises, that he hummed when he concentrated. That he loved to sit on Bucky’s shoulders because it made him “as tall as a superhero.”

One night, after Jack had finally fallen asleep, Bucky stood at the window watching the compound lights flicker below.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Still feels like I’m dreamin’. Like I don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he said softly. “I missed everything, doll. First words. First steps. He—he didn’t even know me.”

You turned him gently until he faced you. “You didn’t choose that. None of us did. What matters is that you’re here now. He knows you now.”

Bucky’s voice broke when he said, “He called me dad tonight.”

“I know.” You smiled through your tears. “He’s been waiting to.”

Bucky exhaled, forehead pressing to yours. “Guess I’m not so good at this modern parenting thing, huh? He asked if my arm’s Wi-Fi compatible.”

You laughed quietly. “You’ll get there.”

And he did. Slowly.

He learned how to braid hair—his son’s little curls after bath time, because “Mom says you’re gentle.” He learned to fix pancakes shaped like dinosaurs. Learned to love the quiet mornings when Jack crawled into his lap and fell asleep against his chest, drooling on his T-shirt.

Sometimes he’d still freeze in the middle of a perfect moment, lost between gratitude and grief, wondering what it meant to be given this life after losing everything else.

You saw it every time. You’d reach out, touch his hand, and the tension would melt a little.

“You’re doing good, Buck,” you’d whisper.

“Yeah?”

“The best.”

It wasn’t until months later, on a mission debrief gone long, that Bucky realized he’d stopped waiting for the world to take it all away again.

He caught sight of the photo tucked into his vest—Jack sitting on his shoulders, sunlight in his hair—and felt something like peace.

That night, when he got home, Jack ran full-speed down the hall yelling, “Daddy’s back!” and crashed into his legs, arms wrapping tight around him.

Bucky lifted him easily, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Missed you, trouble.”

“You get the bad guys?”

“Always do.”

You appeared in the doorway, smile tired but soft. “You did good today, huh?”

Bucky reached for you with his free hand, tugging you close until your head rested against his shoulder, your family fitting together like it had always been meant to.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice low, reverent. “We all did.”

And maybe that was the truth of it— He’d spent most of his life trying to make up for what he’d done, what had been taken from him. But here, with your warmth pressed against his side and Jack's sleepy weight in his arms, he finally understood something simpler.

He didn’t have to earn this. He just had to live it.

[bby-calum]

Gone - Bucky Barnes

synopsis: an old friend comes to visit and his shocking revelation leaves you feeling lost

word count: 1,372

masterlist: link in bio!

a/n: i haven’t written anything for my man bucky barnes in a hot minute so enjoy this sad fic - also this is my first time writing a pairing where one character is not actually in the fic if that makes any sense, i kinda like how this one turned out!

"Just a minute!" you called as the thundering knocks at your front door continued. Cradling you two month old son close to your chest, comforting him to stop his loud wails, you made your way along the hallway and to the entrance of your house. Through the frosted glass you could make out a tall figure standing on your porch, a man.

"Steve," you said quietly as you opened your front door, shocked to see him. Your son had settled and lay quietly in your arms.

"Is that- is that yours?" Steve asked, not even saying hello, as he gestured to the baby you held.

"Yes, he's mine," you said.

"Sorry, is he," Steve paused, taking a shaky breath. "Is he Bucky's?" You hadn't seen Steve in over a year, not since you and Bucky had broken up. You'd found out you were pregnant a few weeks later.

Nodding your head you stood to the side, gesturing for Steve to enter your home. He wiped his feet carefully on the welcome mat and shrugged off his brown leather jacket, hanging it on the coat hook that stood at the bottom of the stairs, just like he used to when he came to visit Bucky when he lived here.

"He never said," Steve told you.

"He didn't know," you replied bluntly, following Steve into the living room and taking a seat in the plump armchair as he sat on the leather sofa. "Why are you here Steve?" You didn't mean to sound rude, but you were genuinely curious. What could Steve possibly want? You and Bucky had split and moved on well over a year ago and you hadn't seen Steve since, so why had he turned up on your doorstep on this Thursday afternoon?

"I needed to speak to you," he said, his stoic expression faultering. He took a deep breath. "Can I hold him?" You nodded, rising from the armchair and perching next to him, passing over your baby into Steve's gentle clutch.

"Tobias," you introduced him. Steve was in awe, taking in your son's features as Tobias looked up at him, gurgling.

"He looks so much like him," Steve commented, his breath catching in his throat. "Why didn't you tell him, y/n? He would have loved to- he would love- I- he- oh God," Steve crumbled, stumbling over his words and struggling to fight his tears.

"Steve what's going on? Has something happened to Bucky?" You placed a hand on the back of his shoulder, soothing him as he sobbed. He leaned closer to you, laying his head on your shoulder for a moment as he tried to compose himself. Wiping tears from his cheeks, you did your best to comfort him.

"He's dead, y/n. Bucky's dead," Steve managed. Tobias sensed Steve's distress as he held him close, the baby tiny compared to Steve's large figure, squirming in his arms, a small cry escaping Tobias's mouth. Steve sat back up, distracting himself by cooing at Tobias, doing his best to settle him.

Sinking deeper into the sofa you tried to process what Steve had just told you. Despite not seeing him for over a year, despite ending your relationship with him on a terribly sour note, despite not even telling him about the son you shared, news of Bucky's death devastated you.

"How?" You asked quietly after a while.

"Haven't you seen the news, y/n?" Steve asked.

"I don't really watch the television anymore, I don't have the time," you gestured to Tobias.

"Half the population is dead, wiped out, turned to dust." Steve inhaled deeply before explaining with a single word. "Thanos."

A single tear rolled down your face. You felt numb. Bucky was a superhero, for goodness sake. He wasn't supposed to die. How could he be dead?

"I was going to tell him eventually," you thought aloud. "About Tobias. I was still bitter about everything. He, he should have known. What right did I have to keep his son from him?. Now he'll never know. God, I'm such an awful person," you cried.

"You're not an awful person," Steve was quick to react. "You're doing a wonderful job of raising your son, look at him, he's brilliant. And you're doing it alone, y/n. That's not an easy thing."

"I shouldn't be doing it alone though, Steve. Bucky should be here with me." You missed him.

"What happened between you two, y/n? If you don't mind me asking. Bucky didn't like to talk about it."

"Well," you started, shakily. "We were arguing most nights. He was stressed, scared, exhausted. Work was hard for him. The guilt of all the murders he'd committed had caught up to him. I couldn't exactly reassure him that he did nothing wrong. I know, I know, before you tell me it wasn't his fault, but he still did it. It was still technically him. I wanted him to just quit playing the hero. I wanted him to just live a normal life here with me, get married, start a family, just be normal. There was one night, the night we broke up, he was so angry. He'd come home late, I was terrified something had happened to him because he didn't call or text or anything. He said he was training. I didn't believe him, the way he was talking, it was like he was hiding something from me. I thought he was cheating on me. It was like a switch flipped. He was so angry, I've never seen him like that. I thought he was going to kill me, the look in his eyes was terrifying. He was ranting and raving at me, screaming profanities at the top of his lungs. Anyway, eventually he said that he wasn't cheating on me, but he wished that he was." You paused for a moment, wiping away the tears that stung your eyes. "I told him to get out. He left, and I never saw him again."

Steve was silent for a while, struggling for words.

"You don't have to pity me, Steve," you reassured him. "He wasn't perfect but neither was I. We weren't right for each other."

"He loved you," Steve half-whispered. "He loved you so much, y/n. After you guys split up he was a wreck. He would never tell us what had happened. He said he was too ashamed."

"It was my fault," you shook your head. "He needed me to be there for him and all I did was accuse him of shit he didn't do."

Tobias started to cry as you and Steve sat in silence. Steve did his best to comfort your son once again but one glance at the clock that hung on the wall told you it was feeding time. You took your son from Steve's arms.

"He needs feeding," you told Steve.

"I should go," Steve rose from his seat on the sofa, grateful of an excuse to escape the awkward atmosphere in your living room. You followed him out into the hallway, watching as he put on his jacket. Pausing as he reached the front door, Steve turned to you. "I'm sorry, y/n. I'm sorry this has happened and you two didn't get a chance to work things out. I'm sorry he's gone."

"Me too, Steve."

Once Steve had left and Tobias had been fed, you lay your son in his baby bouncer and reached for the box of photographs and memories you had kept from your relationship with Bucky, bringing it down from its dusty spot on the top shelf of your bookcase. Sifting through the endless photographs of you and Bucky, movie ticket stubs and receipts from dinner dates, you allowed yourself to mourn him and mourn your relationship. Quietly sobbing as your son gurgled beside you, you vowed to yourself that Tobias would know who his father was. He would be raised in a household where pictures of his mother and father adorned the walls, he would know what his father did and how many people he had saved. Tobias would know his past, where he came from and who he was. He would know he was the son of a great man.

[bbparker]

Beautiful Boy (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: A little boy runs into (y/n) and she needs to help him find his dad.

A/N: I don’t know if the permanent tags wanted to be in others besides my peter Parker soo…

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Reader!

Warnings: Uh noooo

// Masterlist //

Words: 1,050

 (Y/n) was walking down the street clad in gym clothes, giant headphones on while singing out loud, she’d failed to notice the little body speeding her way. Something hard ran into her, nearly knocking (y/n) over in the process. Catching herself, she gazed down to find a roughly six-year-old boy with big blue eyes and floppy brown curly hair, looking up at her in wonder. Taking her headphones off (y/n) glanced around and couldn’t see anybody racing to their son.

“Hello, I’m Jake!” The little boy randomly blurted out. (Y/n) hesitated before dumping her shoulder bag on the floor and crouched down to his eye-level. “Hello Jake, I’m (y/n). Are you lost? Where are your parents?”

“I only have a dad! My mom died when I was born.” Slightly saddened, (y/n) put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about that. Do you know where your dad is?”

He didn’t need to answer, a very worried voice boomed over the crowd. “Jacob!” The little boy didn’t seem to notice the voice, but (y/n) sure as hell did. “Do you want to come with me? I know where your dad is.”

The little boy shook his head, “I’m not supposed to go with strangers.” Smiling at Jake (or Jacob), glad the boy had some smarts, she asked. “What’s your dad’s name?” There was a slight pause as if the boy was contemplating his own dad's name. “His names Bucky, or James. I’m not sure, people in the tower call him different things. Aunty Nat calls him ass-” (y/n)’s eyes widened. “Okay, okay” she laughed nervously.

Standing to her full height, (y/n) calls over the crowd, one hand on Jake’s shoulder. “James! JAMES!” She had to call a couple times over the noise. Glancing down to ice blue eyes, she finds Jake smiling up at her. (Y/n) couldn’t help but let out a silent ‘aw’. Breaking the moment, she looked up only to find identical eyes to the boy looking back at her.

The man came closer, somewhat suspiciously until he saw Jake and his whole demeanor changed. Rushing forward and embracing his son, James begins to look over Jake for any damage. “Why the hell did you run off bud?” The man, James, said sternly but with a light smile on his face. “I saw this really pretty girl-” Jake points at (y/n), “and I wanted to talk to her!”

James/Bucky glanced up at (y/n), before looking back at Jake and laughed. “You’re like your old man, trying to charm every beautiful dame you see, huh?” (Y/n) scoffed with light humor, crossing her arms. James finally looked up at (Y/n) and gave her a dazzling smile before standing to his full height.

Now looking down at her, he offered her his flesh hand. “I’m James Barnes, thanks for finding my son.” Still smiling at (y/n), she started to smile back, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N). It was no problem seeing as he found me first.” They both laughed lightly. “Can I offer to buy to coffee, as thanks?” (Y/N) contemplated the offer but looking down at Jakes big blue puppy eyes, she was convinced. “Yeah, that would be great.”

Entering the café, they re-took the booth James and his son had been occupying before he randomly ran off. Deciding to sit opposite of Jake, (y/n) smiled lightly at the handsome man now ordering her coffee.  Slowly turning her head, (y/n) found the young boy staring at her and a charming smile, like his fathers, resting on his lips. “Can you ask my dad out on a date?”

Choking on air slightly, (Y/n) smiled softly. Actually turning the idea of a date with the quite attractive man in her head, she answered.“Maybe when we know each other better.” Jake smiled even bigger, if possible. James returned to the table carrying two coffees and a small milkshake for Jake, who decided to strike up a random conversation. The boy was very enthusiastic about school and spent twenty minutes talking about their science class while (y/n) listened attentively and asked questions at the right times. During so, both adults were stealing glances at each other without the other noticing. Jake, however, seemed to notice and decide to turn the conversation around.

“Hey, dad?" 

"Yes, Jacob?” (Y/n) wasn’t really listening in, too busy admiring the adoring relationship between the father and son. She could see the pure devotion and love James had for his son and a thought slipped through her mind. He must have loved Jake’s mom very much, (y/n) hoped someone could give her that same affection.

 Suddenly hearing her name spoken, she zoned back in. “Oh, sorry! What did you say?”

“You want to play pinball with me?” Jake said excitedly. Looking to where he was pointing, (y/n) could see a small pinball machine and a small driving machine. “Uh-” “you go ahead, Jake. (Y/n)’s okay here,” James answered for her as his son darted off the machines.

Watching him go, (y/n) couldn’t wait until she got to have kids with the person she loved. “You have a beautiful boy…” (y/n) let slip, looking to see Bucky admiring his son.

“Yeah, I mean he really takes after me. Shame.” (Y/n) let out a loud attractive (not) snort and laugh. “Yeah, it’s a real crying shame. Those baby blue eyes and curls are just so disappointing” causing James to laugh. The silence drifted around them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So, about that date?”

“Did you… did you use your son to talk to me?!”

“Definitely not,” Bucky said while tipping up his coffee to drink and (y/n) saw the large smile growing on his pink lips.

TAGS

@eliza-hamilton-helpless @purelittleblueberry

[bby-calum]

PTSD - Bucky Barnes Imagine

request: Hello! Please could you write me a Bucky Barnes imagine that is full of angst and basically, the reader is an avenger and pregnant with Bucky’s child so she cannot partake in any missions for a while. This story takes place at the time of Infinity War by the way. Bucky is suffering really badly with PTSD but nobody knows how bad it really is apart from the reader. Reader argues with Tony begging him to make Bucky stay, she also argues with Bucky. It is really angsty and you decide the ending :)

a/n: this isn’t my best but i needed some dad!bucky in my life

word count: 1,155

masterlist: (x)

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Tony?” You charged over to him, threatening him by grabbing the collar of his shirt with both hands, pushing him against the kitchen counter. “He’s not going.”

“I assume this is about Barnes, y/n?” He remained calm. Steve, Sam and Natasha watched you closely from the other side of the kitchen, knowing you could seriously harm Tony if you wanted to. “I dislike him as much as the next person,” Tony continued, making you tug on his shirt harder. You saw Steve tense from the corner of your eye. “But, actually, it was his decision to go to Wakanda, so you’re really taking your pregnancy hormones out on the wrong guy.”

Since you had found out you were pregnant, life had become increasingly difficult. You couldn’t partake in any of the missions anymore and you felt as if you were being forgotten in your position in the team of Avengers. Bucky had tried his best to support you, but he had been suffering horrifically with his PTSD. Most nights were spent calming him down as he sobbed in your arms, his shrill screams echoing in the bedroom. He’d rock himself back and forth continuously until the panic attack subsided. Sometimes he would have violent outbursts, mistaking you for a villain of his past. He’d hit you as you desperately tried to grab his wrists to stop him. When he’d realise what he was doing and who it was he was hurting, he’d hate himself for hurting the woman he loved; the woman who was carrying his first child. 

“Tony, he’s struggling. I haven’t slept through the night in almost six months because he’s up screaming and crying because of the nightmares he has.” The others were aware of Bucky’s panic attacks, but they had no idea of the true extent of them. From what they could see, Bucky, like the rest of them, occasionally became overwhelmed with the stress of the job, but was fit to fight. 

“He’s assured me he is fine,” Tony pulled your hands off of him, pushing you away gently, his face filled with disgust. He hated it when you stood up to him. 

“Is it really that bad?” Steve asked you once Tony had left. You nodded.

Drying his wet hair with a towel, Bucky pressed a small kiss to the top of your head as you flicked through the channels of the television that hung on the wall opposite your bed. When you didn’t even look up at him, Bucky knew something was on your mind. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sitting next to you on the end of the bed. His right thigh touched your left one, his cold skin on yours making you jump. You stood up, moving away from him, causing Bucky to frown. “Why aren’t you talking to me?” He followed you out onto the balcony, the summer breeze making him shiver as he stood only in his towel. 

“Why can’t you just sit this one out?” You asked him quietly, looking out at the view from the balcony as you fiddled with the hem of your pyjama shorts. “Why can’t you just wait until you’re better?” 

“Better?” Bucky raised his voice after a short silence. “Better? Doll, I’ve been dealing with this the whole time I’ve been here and it hasn’t affected me before when I’m out fighting. They need me in Wakanda.”

“But it’s never been this bad before,” you refused to look him in the eye. Bucky didn’t reply, knowing you were right. “How can you say you’re well enough to fight when I can’t remember the last time you went twenty four hours without having a breakdown?”

“I have to go, you know I do. If it’s the baby you’re worried about they said I will definitely be here when you give birth. I’m not going to miss-”

“This isn’t about the baby, Bucky!” You interjected. “This isn’t about the fucking baby. This is about you,” he reached out to touch you, trying to calm you down but you backed away from his grasp. “This is about you and how I know you’re not ready to fight. You’re sick. Your head is sick, and I don’t want you to get killed because of it!” You were shouting now, your outburst taking Bucky by surprise. The two of you rarely argued, and it upset him that his mental state was the reason there was tension between the two of you. 

“I won’t get killed,” he said quietly, shaking his head. You almost believed him, but then you remembered how it had taken you over an hour to get him to stop fighting you last night as you stopped him from injuring himself after a bad nightmare. In his stressed state, he had convinced himself that you were there to kill him. After his episode he had apologised profusely, but you knew the same would happen the next night, as it had done the night before, and the night before that. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” your voice cracked, tears spilled. You let Bucky’s arms envelop you, sinking into his hug as you sobbed quietly into his chest. He stroked your hair softly as he held you, a technique he had picked up from you, knowing it would help soothe you. “I know that if you go I’ll sit by my phone every day, waiting for news that you’ve been killed by one of them. I don’t want to lose you. I need you,” you pulled away from his embrace and placed his hands on your rounded belly. “We need you.”

“I won’t get killed,” he repeated after a while, rushing to finish his sentence before you could interrupt again. “I won’t get killed because I won’t go.” He kissed your forehead, a small smile creeping onto his face as he felt the baby move inside of you. “I’ll get help,” he mumbled against your skin. “If you really think I’m getting that bad, I’ll get help.”

“You do need help,” you sighed. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh, Buck. I…I’m just being honest. I can’t keep fighting you every night to try and get you back to sleep.”

“Okay,” he said, his voice small. 

In the end, Bucky had come to the conclusion that he had made the right decision. He had been seeking help and already you noticed a difference in him. The nightmares became less often, and the two of you had your first decent night’s sleep in months. 

The day Bucky would have flown out to Wakanda, you had gone into an early labour. When he held his baby daughter in his arms for the first time, her tiny hand gripping tightly around the first finger on his metal hand, Bucky felt completed, as if he was whole again.

Since the day she was born, he hadn’t had another nightmare. 

[heldbybarnes]

Hi Kennedy! Hear me out here...you and Bucky have twin daughters that are 2 right? One day while he's at the compound, you and the girls go to Target and just overall have a girls day. When you guys get home the girls can't wait to show their daddy what all they did! Chaos ensues in the girls putting on a fashion show/haul and showing off their nails and other stuff they did with mama today. Have a great day queen!

guys im so down bad for dad!bucky. this is a serious problem (no it isn't)

----------

The first sound Bucky hears when he steps through the front door is giggling—high-pitched, breathless, and doubled. Two giggles. Always two.

He barely has time to drop his bag before he’s being tackled around the knees by something small and strong. Two somethings, actually.

“Daddy!” “Hi Daddy!”

He grins so wide it hurts, sinking down to scoop them both up—one on each hip, like he’s carried them every day since the world began. “Hi, my girls,” he says, pressing a kiss to each little cheek, one rosy from laughter, the other glitter-smudged. “What’ve you been up to today, huh? You give your mama an easy time while I was gone?”

You appear in the kitchen doorway, tote bags slung over your wrist, hair a little mussed, smile soft. “Define easy.”

Bucky’s eyes flick between the twins—two tiny carbon copies of him, save for the curls and the way they light up at the sound of your voice. “Uh oh,” he chuckles, “what’d you do to your mama?”

The twins exchange conspiratorial glances before one of them—Lila, if he’s guessing right—gasps dramatically. “Daddy, guess where we go’d!”

Bucky raises a brow. “Where’d you go’d, trouble?”

“TARGET!” they both squeal in unison, kicking their feet excitedly.

“Oh no,” he laughs. “You took ‘em to the red bullseye? Brave woman.”

You’re already unpacking the bags onto the counter—tiny clothes, snacks, and about six items that clearly weren’t on any list. “We went for toothpaste,” you say over your shoulder. “We came home with matching pajamas, princess stickers, and a family-sized pack of Goldfish.”

Bucky sets the girls down carefully, kneeling to their level. “Show me what you got then. C’mon, lemme see this Target haul.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before chaos explodes. Two little bodies vanish down the hall with shrieks of glee. You lean against the counter, laughing.

“They’ve been waiting to show you since we left the parking lot,” you explain.

Bucky shakes his head, heart swelling as he watches them reappear a minute later—both of them wearing tutus over their leggings, sparkly sunglasses crooked on their noses, and matching shirts that say “Dad’s Favorite Girl.”

He pretends to clutch his chest. “You’re kiddin’ me,” he says, voice rough with affection. “That’s not even fair. You’re gonna kill me, lookin’ that cute.”

The girls spin like tiny ballerinas, giggling wildly. “Do you like it, Daddy? We picked ‘em all by ourselves!”

“I love ‘em,” he says honestly. “You two look perfect.”

You cross your arms, smirking. “You should see the cart when they were done. I think they each tried on every pair of sunglasses in the store.”

Bucky’s still admiring his daughters, one of whom is now trying to feed the other a Goldfish cracker mid-spin. “You spoil ‘em, sweetheart.”

You grin. “You spoil me, Sergeant. I’m just passing it on.”

He looks up at you then—at the faint flush on your cheeks, the Target bag still dangling from your wrist, the glint of gold on your finger that never stops making his chest ache. “Can’t argue with that,” he murmurs.

“Daddy, wait!” the smaller twin—Maya—interrupts, running toward him. “We got more! We did nails too!”

Bucky watches as she plops down in front of him, holding up her tiny hands proudly. Her fingers are smudged with alternating pink and purple polish, dotted with glitter stickers shaped like stars.

“Wow,” he says, feigning awe. “You did those yourself?”

“Nooo, Mommy did!” she giggles, tipping her head back to beam at you. “She let us pick colors. Lila wanted sparkles. I wanted dinosaurs.”

He looks up at you, and the smile you give him is pure sunshine. “They had a whole display of kid polish,” you explain. “Water-based, washable. I figured why not. It’s girls’ day.”

“Girls’ day, huh?” He leans back on his heels, watching them with a softness that melts you. “And what else did my girls do on girls’ day?”

“Coffee!” Lila announces proudly.

Your eyes widen. “It was decaf.”

He laughs, low and warm. “Decaf, huh? Still counts. You two went on a Target run and got coffee? You’re practically your mama already.”

They beam, absolutely delighted.

You wander closer, leaning against the back of his neck, your hand brushing over his shoulder. “They insisted on getting matching cake pops too. I’m pretty sure more icing ended up on them than in them.”

Bucky tilts his head, catching your wrist to kiss your knuckles. “That’s my kind of day.”

The twins aren’t done though. They scramble away again, this time returning with their tiny purses—plastic, pink, jingling with what sounds suspiciously like stolen hair clips.

“Okay Daddy,” Maya declares, “now we do a show!”

“A show?” he echoes, glancing at you.

You shrug, trying not to laugh. “They’ve been practicing.”

The music starts—some tinny tune playing from your phone—and the twins take turns marching down the hallway like runway models, pausing at the end to twirl and pose dramatically. Bucky claps after each one like it’s the greatest performance he’s ever seen, eyes bright and wet with pride.

When they’re done, both girls barrel back into his lap, faces glowing. “Did you like it?”

“Like it?” he murmurs, kissing their temples. “Best show I’ve ever seen.”

They giggle and start to squirm, but he holds them tighter for a second, just breathing them in. “I missed you, my sweet girls,” he murmurs. “You take care of Mama for me today?”

Two solemn nods. “We did, Daddy. We made her laugh lots.”

He looks up at you again then, eyes soft, voice even softer. “I can tell.”

You smile, coming closer, crouching beside him so the twins can wrap an arm around you too. “They were angels,” you say, and even though it’s not technically true—there was glitter on the ceiling at one point—it feels true in this moment.

Bucky’s gaze lingers on you, his thumb brushing over your wrist. “You’re somethin’ else, doll. They got your smile.”

“They’ve got your stubbornness,” you tease.

“Guess that’s why we make a good team.”

The girls start whispering to each other again, giggling uncontrollably before one of them declares, “Mommy, Daddy’s lookin’ at you funny.”

You choke back a laugh. “That’s because he’s tired, baby.”

Bucky smirks, not breaking eye contact. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice low so only you can hear, “real tired.”

You bump his shoulder, grinning. “Behave, Sergeant.”

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to each girl’s head. “Alright, my little fashion models—bath time, yeah? Then we can watch a movie before bed.”

The twins squeal, immediately launching into an argument over which movie to pick, and you both stand, herding them toward the stairs.

As you reach the landing, Bucky catches your waist, leaning close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. “Next time you go on a girls’ day,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ too. Gotta protect my wallet and my heart.”

You laugh quietly, resting your head against his chest for a moment. “Good luck with that, Daddy.”

And from the stairs comes the sound of twin laughter—wild, echoing, alive.

Home.

[heldbybarnes]

Hi! I would love bucky finding a 3 year old

Baby girl at hydra. The second he sees her he falls in love and vice versa. He the only person she trust to get her out of hydra. Just dad bucky struggling through raising her. Maybe the first night he trys to put her to bed and she only wants to be where he is so she won't stay. Bonus if he some how falls in love with same through it all. 😚😚😚 love your writing!!!

so cutee

----------

He almost didn’t see her.

Hydra’s base burned around him—flames and smoke curling through the corridors like serpents—as he tore through the last of the guards. His blood was hot with adrenaline, the roar of gunfire still echoing in his ears. Then he heard it: a sound so small it cut through everything.

A hiccup. A muffled cry.

Bucky turned, gun still raised, and there she was.

Huddled in the corner of a cell barely big enough for a grown man to kneel in, knees tucked to her chest, curls matted and face streaked with dirt. She couldn’t have been more than three. Her eyes were too big for her face, and they tracked him the moment he stepped closer.

“Hey, hey—” he said softly, voice cracking around words he hadn’t used in hours. “It’s okay, doll. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Her lower lip trembled. She blinked through tears, staring at his metal hand first, then at his face—searching.

“Bucky,” he said, pointing to his chest. “I’m Bucky.”

She didn’t answer. Just sniffled and reached—tiny fingers brushing the cold vibranium as if it might bite her. When it didn’t, she grabbed hold.

And that was it.

Bucky carried her out of Hydra that night. Through gunfire, through smoke, through everything. She never made a sound. Not one cry, not one whimper—just buried her face in his shoulder and held on.

It didn’t get easier once they were out.

She wouldn’t leave his side. Not for a second.

Sam and Steve tried to help—tried to feed her, bathe her, make her laugh—but she’d only look for Bucky. The second he stepped out of the room, she’d scream, the kind of broken sob that tore right through him.

So, he stayed.

He sat cross-legged on the bed while she played with the edge of his sleeve. He slept sitting up on the couch because she’d curl up in his lap and wouldn’t move. He learned how to braid with shaky fingers and how to coax her to eat by pretending to taste everything first.

The first time she said his name, he nearly cried.

“Buh-kee,” she murmured, soft and shy, pressing her hand over his metal one.

“Yeah, sweetheart. That’s me.”

The first night in his apartment was the worst.

He tried to set her down in the little bed he’d built from spare sheets and pillows. He’d even found her a stuffed bunny at the market—a pink one with floppy ears. But the moment he stepped away, she started to cry.

Not loud. Just heartbreakingly soft.

He tried again—sat with her until her eyes closed, waited a minute, then stood. She woke instantly, tears welling up.

“Hey, hey, baby,” he whispered, scooping her up again. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

She buried her face in his shirt, little fingers fisting the fabric.

That’s how they ended up in his bed.

He lay there stiff at first, afraid to move, afraid he’d scare her. But then she shifted closer—head tucked under his chin, a tiny, content sigh escaping her lips.

And for the first time in years, Bucky slept through the night.

Weeks passed. Then months.

She learned to laugh again—really laugh. She’d run barefoot across the living room floor, squealing when he pretended to chase her, or cling to his leg when Sam stopped by just to annoy him. She called him “Daddy” once, completely unprompted, and he had to step out of the room before she saw his eyes fill with tears.

He never meant to be a father. He wasn’t sure he knew how. But the second he saw her, something in him clicked—something quiet and old and fiercely protective.

She was his.

And then there was you.

You showed up months later, a family counselor SHIELD had hired to help him navigate raising a traumatized child while also being a barely-adjusted former assassin. He didn’t want help. Not at first.

But you didn’t flinch when you saw the arm. You didn’t speak to him like he was dangerous—you spoke to him like he was tired. Like he was trying.

You started coming by twice a week. Brought coloring books, puzzles, and tiny socks because “three-year-olds lose them like they’re trying to.”

He liked your laugh. He liked how she smiled around you. He liked how easy it felt having you there, how you fit into their quiet chaos like you’d been meant to all along.

One night, after she’d finally fallen asleep in her own bed, he found you sitting on the couch with two mugs of tea.

“She did it,” you said softly. “Slept without you.”

He smiled. “Didn’t think we’d ever get there.”

“She trusts you.”

Bucky looked toward the hallway, where a sliver of light spilled from her room. “She’s the bravest kid I’ve ever met.”

You looked at him—really looked at him. “She’s brave because you are.”

He swallowed hard. “I’m just tryin’ not to mess her up.”

“You’re doing more than that,” you said, voice gentle. “You’re teaching her what safety feels like.”

Something shifted then. Something small and steady. The same way it had the day he found her.

A year later, she ran between them in the park—her curls bouncing, bunny clutched in one hand as she squealed with laughter. Bucky caught her around the waist, lifted her high into the air, and her giggles turned into pure sunshine.

“Again!” she shouted.

He laughed and tossed her higher, catching her against his chest.

You watched from the bench, warmth in your chest, and when he finally sat beside you, breathless, she curled in his lap and promptly fell asleep.

“She’s gettin’ heavy,” he said, smiling.

“She’s growing,” you teased. “Healthy. Happy.”

He nodded, eyes soft on her face. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

You shrugged, cheeks warming. “You didn’t need me.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, gaze flicking up to yours. “I did.”

The words hung between you, quiet but certain.

And when he leaned in—careful, patient, the way he always was—it wasn’t the kind of love that started in sparks and chaos. It was the kind that grew, steady and sure, between bedtime stories and small hands learning to trust.

Because she’d saved him, too.

And for the first time since Hydra, Bucky Barnes finally had a home.