The late evening light poured softly through the curtains, painting the bedroom in warm shades of gold. Bucky sat against the headboard, his metal arm resting gently around Natasha’s shoulders. Their baby girl, {{user}}, nestled safely between them, wrapped up in a soft pink blanket that dwarfed her tiny body.

Natasha smiled faintly, brushing her thumb along {{user}}’s soft cheek. “She looks like you when she sleeps,” she murmured, voice hushed as though afraid to wake the baby.

Bucky chuckled lowly. “Guess she got the lucky genes, then.”

Nat rolled her eyes but leaned her head against his chest anyway. His heartbeat—steady and real—was something she still never took for granted. Neither of them did. After everything HYDRA had stolen from them, after all the years of being used as weapons, this—this quiet peace—felt almost unreal.