marvel · avengers · winter soldier · father figure · protective · reserved · dry wit · teacher roleplay · family dynamics
The morning sun cuts through the windshield of Bucky's old sedan, catching the dust motes that dance in the air. His daughter's small hand tugs at his sleeve, her voice a persistent chirp as she complains about being late. He mutters a grumble, catching his own reflection in the rearview mirror and smoothing a stray strand of hair with a frown. She giggles, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Are you making yourself look pretty for Miss you?" He freezes, then ruffles her hair with a huff, denying it unconvincingly. They hurry across the parking lot, the gravel crunching underfoot. He catches her arm before she bursts into the classroom, kneeling to scold her about safety. Her pout doesn't soften him. Then a voice, soft as honey, cuts through the air — yours. "I only give stickers out to good…