Delicateflappizzaplaid - E.

We'll start with forever...

To add to the "Billy's girlfriend is pregnant" question - how would billy act and react to his GF giving birth? Would he be with her or wait outside or would he not even be in the hospital?

And what would his first reaction be like, holding his baby? Dark blonde hair like his with piercing blue eyes

I'm loving you guys indulging me on my headcanaons for Billy and these things damn-

He'd probably be doing something else when she goes into labour, not with her, and he'd get a call from someone (maybe Max at the hospital- Max loves his girlfriend and is excited to be an aunt- yes she will be the aunt, it doesn't matter if they're step-siblings) and he'd drop it to go to the hospital.

He'd be real nervous about it- doesn't know if he wants to actually be in the room when it's happening because that's very real and he's not sure he's ready for real. Not sure he will ever really be ready.

If you want him there he'll do it, begrudgingly. Fine you can hold his hand and squeeze the living fuck out of it, but he will mention how you're going to put him in the hospital with the way you're squeezing his hand. Max is there too.

When the little baby is born and he hears it crying- he's like "That's good right??" At least he recognizes that. And he thinks damn that's loud Jesus christ, babies are loud- but then he actually gets to look at them while the nurses are cleaning the baby up and when I tell you this man's heart stops... Bruh 🤚

This little thing, all flesh and chubby, scrunched up face- has his hair. Their head is full of more hair than he thought a baby could be born with (fun fact, I myself was born with A LOT of hair, my mom and aunt used to love doing stuff with it lmao) and it's the same colour as his own hair. That's his fucking hair.

He swears all babies are ugly when they're born- but this one? Not so bad.

Nurses ask if he wants to hold them and he hasn't even got time to say no or whatever he was going to say because they're already passing off this tiny thing to him and he's stiff as a board; how the fuck do you hold a baby? Something that fucking small, he's gonna break them, he's sure of it. Max helps him figure it out, "support the head stupid-" (Max is lucky he's having an internal mental Olympics contest with himself rn or he'd give her a piece of his mind).

When their eyes open, and they're blue, just like his, that's it. That's when it sinks in, really, truly, that this is his child. His baby. His son or daughter. They look like him in all ways; it's like a carbon copy baby of himself.

And he loves them immensely and immediately. A love he's never felt before it is so overwhelming and scary and he thinks, this is how a parent is supposed to feel for their child. He doesn't want anything to touch them, hurt them, and his fears of hurting them linger but he thinks how could he hurt them when he's holding them like this? Why didn't his father feel like this? What went wrong?

He's going to have struggles, he's going to need help, and he's not always going to be perfect. But he's going to be there for this little shit he helped create. He's not his dad, and he refuses to be.

°•☆Heavenly Touch☆•°

♦️ Bucky Barnes x Reader ♦️

A/N: Just soft, fluffy blurb of Bucky in the tub getting his hair washed cause I’m in a sappy mood today 😔

Words: 650

Bucky Masterlist

☆☆☆

Few things in the world are as heavenly as your hands on his scalp, Bucky’s sure of it. Not food. Not sleep. Not se…Well, scratch that. 

Being inside you, all tight and warm around him is the best feeling in the world.

But your soft hands…massaging and pressing into his scalp, running through his brown locks with patience and care, it’s a definite close second.

It started simply. You offered to wash Bucky’s hair as it seemed so…greasy. And Bucky got a little embarrassed, because he forgot. He always forgets little things that people do and it’s a good thing you’re there to remind him, to ground him. With you, becoming Bucky Barnes again, finding Bucky Barnes, or at least the shattered pieces scattered through his psyche, feels easier. 

As Bucky slumps backwards in the tub, his thick muscles clench and unclench. Tension melts from his limbs beneath your soft touch. He basks in the tender press of your fingers and his mouth parts, long lashes fluttering closed. A low, sultry hum, veering on erotic, escapes his throat. 

"Guess I’m really hitting your sweet spot, huh?" you tease, pulling Bucky from his trance. 

There’s a rosy hue to his cheeks as he bashfully replies, wet chestnut locks hanging in his face, "Sorry…"

You wrap your arms around his neck and drop a gentle kiss on his broad shoulder. 

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed," you whisper. "I’m glad I can make you feel good."

Bucky sinks into silence. It’s not unusual, when he gets into one of his moods. But there’s a wrinkle in his brow that makes you inquire.

You caress his stubbled jaw. 

"Is there something on your mind?" 

He swallows a deep breath, his blue eyes dimming, shadows engulfing them. 

"I was never touched like that…back there," he whispers, almost too quietly for you to hear. 

You give a slow nod.

He doesn’t need to elaborate his meaning for you to understand he’s talking about Hydra and his time as the Winter Soldier. 

Bucky’s lips tremble as his eyes get glassy. Your stomach knots at the sight. He struggles to get the rest of the words out, his voice breaking. 

"Either I wasn’t touched or…touched in a bad way."

Your insides wrench. He never talks about it. The air in the bathroom is heavier, more stifling as Bucky’s gaze gets lost. For a minute, you lose him, to awful memories, to pain and loss. It’s all written on his face. 

Your chest is hollow as you helplessly watch him go through this. 

Your hands roam over his shoulders as you rest your chin in the crook of his neck. 

"I wish I could say something to make it better."

His big, warm hands cover yours, drawing circles into your wrists, reveling in that simple touch. There’s not a minute together Bucky doesn’t marvel and linger in touching you, smelling you, soaking in your essence.

Like he wants to remember you with just his hands, carve your memory deep in his skin, so it can never be taken.

"You don’t have to," he rasps, brushing his lips against the back of your hands, eyes falling shut. "This…makes everything better." A peaceful lilt courses through his tone. "You make everything better, doll."

Butterflies dance in your belly with his words.

Before you can respond, Bucky suddenly rises from inside the tub. Droplets glisten off his naked, muscular frame, dripping to the floor as he climbs out of the tub. 

A stunned shriek tumbles out of you when he picks you up and swoops you in his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tight with his metal arm.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" you gasp, your gaze widening. 

He sends you a crooked grin that makes your chest flutter. 

"You made me feel better. It’s only fair I make you feel better too, doll," he purrs suggestively, striding to your bedroom with confidence.

CHRIS EVANS by Naomi Kaltman 2007

Carlos Sainz

#cs55🌶️