Stucky's daughter

7

As I stirred awake, my bleary eyes focused on the sight of Bucky and Steve nestled together in peaceful slumber on a nearby chair. Gently, I attempted to rise from the bed but found my legs giving way, causing me to collapse onto the floor. The commotion roused my dads, and with concern etched across their faces, they hurried over to help me back up.

A yawn escaped my lips as I mustered the strength to sit up, my curiosity piqued. "What time is it?" I inquired, seeking clarity in the midst of my disorientation.

Steve, ever the reliable source, responded, "It's 6 PM, missy," while offering a steady hand to steady me.

Still groggy, I couldn't help but question the events that transpired. "What happened?" I asked, seeking enlightenment amidst the fog of my memory.

Amusement danced in their eyes as they shared a knowing glance. With a shared chuckle, they recounted the events, including Bruce's visit and subsequent temperature check. "37.5," Bruce had declared, bringing a smile to my face. Bucky, ever the comforter, ran his fingers through my hair, tenderly assuring me of their unwavering presence.

As I made my way downstairs, apprehension tingled in the pit of my stomach, causing me to bite the inside of my mouth in nervous anticipation. Amongst the assembled Avengers, my gaze fell upon Peter, a familiar face whose previous disdainful remarks I chose to ignore. Natasha, with her customary no-nonsense demeanor, whisked me away to a nearby chair, beckoning me to sit. Engaging in lighthearted conversation, we shared laughter and camaraderie, momentarily forgetting the weight of the world resting upon our shoulders.

However, Peter's persistent gaze remained fixed upon me, an irritating reminder of his previous derogatory remarks. Undeterred, I maintained my focus on the positive energy around me, refusing to let his presence dampen my spirits. It was Natasha who brought up the topic of school, nudging me gently. "You're going to school with Peter, right?" she asked, her eyes searching for confirmation.

I turned my attention towards Peter, meeting his gaze head-on, and replied, a touch of defiance in my voice, "Yes, I am. And for the record, it's Mia, not Sophie." His sarcastic laughter filled the air, only serving to fuel my determination. Rising from my seat, I approached him, my voice laced with conviction. "What do you mean by 'cringe'?" I retorted firmly, unwilling to tolerate his disrespectful comments.

In an act of defiance, Peter's laughter faltered, quickly replaced by a red mark on his cheek courtesy of my well-deserved slap. The room fell silent as Bucky and Steve intervened, attempting to restrain me from further confrontation. After a few minutes, we settled down, allowing the meal to resume. The satisfied grin on Natasha's face was undeniable, a silent acknowledgment that justice had been served.

However, my appetite waned, and I politely excused myself from the table. Expressing gratitude to Wanda for her culinary efforts, I confessed my fullness, despite having barely eaten. Wanda, ever observant, couldn't help but comment on my slim figure, a statement that elicited mocking laughter from Peter as he hastily made his exit. Smiling serenely, I thanked Wanda once more before retreating back to the familiar embrace of the lab.

Moments later, Bucky walked in, concern etched across his features. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" he inquired gently, his eyes locked onto my troubled expression. Nodding slowly, I reached for my phone and handed it to him, allowing him access to the distressing text messages that had weighed heavily on my heart. As he read through the hurtful words, tears welled up in my eyes, a cascade of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

A few minutes later, Steve entered the room, his presence offering a sense of comfort. He, too, took hold of my phone and absorbed the hurtful content, his expression reflecting a mix of anger and concern. They both looked at me, their gaze filled with love and empathy, and without hesitation, they enveloped me in a warm embrace. Steve's voice broke the silence, filled with a protective edge, "I will take care of this boy."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I pleaded with Steve to let it go, to refrain from retaliating against Peter. Despite my protests, Steve's determination was unwavering, and he swiftly left the room, his intent clear.

Bucky held me tightly, his arms providing solace amidst the chaos. Flinching with each passing moment of commotion, I found it difficult to calm my racing heart. However, when Peter's audacity led him to strike my dad, a surge of anger coursed through my veins, overriding any fear or hesitation. The strength of my emotions broke me free from Bucky's grip, propelling me towards Peter with an unwavering resolve.

A fierce battle ensued, fueled by a mix of rage and protective instinct. Blow after blow was exchanged between us, the intensity of our clash escalating. In a moment of audacity, Peter slapped me, an act that ignited an uncontrollable fury within me. Unyielding, I continued to pummel him, refusing to relent until justice was served. Steve and Bucky attempted to intervene, to restrain me, but my determination knew no bounds.

Bloodied and bruised, Peter lay defeated beneath me, a testament to the consequences of his hurtful actions. As the Avengers rushed to tend to his injuries, Natasha remained by my side, offering a reassuring presence. In the midst of my tears, a sense of vulnerability took hold. "I'm scared of my dads. They'll be mad," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha's laughter caught me off guard, her amusement ringing through the room. "Maybe, but you just defended your dad," she pointed out, a hint of admiration in her eyes. Her words sparked a smile within me, a glimmer of pride for standing up for what was right.

But Peter, refusing to accept defeat, sought to inflict one last blow, mocking me with his words. Determination burned within me as I retorted, my voice laced with unwavering strength, "You may call me names, but at least I have the courage to confront you face-to-face. Unlike you, who can only hide behind hurtful messages. So, save your insults; they hold no power over me."

Turning away from his stunned expression, I joined in Natasha's laughter, a collective celebration of my resilience. As we walked away, my dads approached me, their voices filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "Did you really break his nose?" they shouted, their disappointment palpable.

Meeting their gaze, I offered a quiet apology, my voice tinged with remorse. "I'm sorry," I murmured, my words barely audible amidst the weight of regret. Peter attempted to provoke me once more, his words a desperate attempt to regain control. Ignoring him, I stammered, "I just wanted to help him."

My dads' silence spoke volumes as they turned away, leaving me with a lingering sense of guilt. Lost in my thoughts, I stood there, grappling with a mix of emotions—regret, defiance, and a yearning for understanding. Peter's mocking voice pierced the air, his taunts aimed at my vulnerability. However, I refused to let his words dictate my self-worth. Gathering my courage, I locked eyes with him and delivered a final retort, my voice steady and firm.

"You know what, Peter? You're right. I may be scared of my dads, but at least I have the strength to face them. I'm not afraid to stand up for what's right and protect the people I care about. So, call me what you want, but I'll always choose integrity over your cowardly behavior."

With those words lingering in the air, I turned away, no longer willing to engage in his toxic game. Natasha's laughter resonated beside me, a testament to the strength and resilience we both possessed. We walked away, leaving Peter behind, his power diminished by our unwavering spirit.