Having kids was hard work.

Diapers, feeding them, bathing them, clothing them, the nights of being kept awake by a screaming gremlin.

But, you guessed having your precious babies made it worth it.

Three girls. One after the other, you and Bucky had three daughters. An eight year old, a four year old, and a two year old.

He’d say it was God’s apology for cutting his time with his sisters short. You’d say it was a test for him.

You two had agreed to wait until the birth to find out the gender of this baby. You were gunning for a boy, Bucky wanted another girl.

You were sat in the living room floor, your girls around you with their Barbie’s, making some story while you read a book, the front door opening as Bucky got home.

“My princesses.” He spoke, kissing each of their foreheads, “My wife.” He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, before crouching beside you and pressing a kiss to your bump.