Stucky's daughter

34

In the piercing silence that followed, all eyes remained fixed on our confrontation. Confusion etched across their faces as I mustered the courage to ask, "Um...what?"

Avoiding my gaze, they averted their eyes, and Morgan, always perceptive, approached me cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is Peter your boyfriend?"

A burst of laughter escaped my lips as I denied the possibility. "No, Morgan, he's not."

She giggled and skipped away, leaving me to grapple with my tangled emotions.

A week elapsed, and I found myself alone in the vast expanse of the compound. I had intended to go shopping with my father figures, but a sudden wave of discomfort washed over me, forcing me to retreat to the comfort of the downstairs couch.

Peter had also ventured out, his whereabouts unknown to me. Then, in a sudden rush, the door swung open, and I witnessed a sight that shattered my heart. Peter stood at the threshold, entangled in a passionate kiss with another girl, intending to bring her to the couch, oblivious to my presence.

In that moment, as if summoned by the turmoil, the Avengers returned, their presence only intensifying the agony pulsating within me. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my voice quivered as I unleashed my anguished cry. "What the fuck, Peter? Really?!"

Natasha moved towards me, a comforting gesture in her eyes, but Peter's words cut through the air before she could reach me. "I thought you weren't here!"

"And if I weren't here, you...you can't just kiss another girl!" I spat back, my voice laced with betrayal.

Peter's voice grew defensive, his words hitting me like daggers. "What's your problem? You're not even my girlfriend, so what?"

The pain seared through me, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. "But last week, you said you loved me!"

His gaze met mine, filled with a mix of confusion and a dismissive coldness. "She's not just a girl; that's MJ. She's perfect, okay? And that happened a week ago."

"Really, Peter? Really?" I screamed, my voice shaking with fury and anguish. "You know what? Because of you, my best friend is dead! Because of you, I suffered from depression! Because of you, I wanted to end my own life! Because of you, I couldn't even eat! And because of you, Flash beat me up! I hate you, Peter Parker. I hate you so fucking much! Just fuck off! I never want to see you again! Fuck off!"

He stared at me, the weight of my words sinking in. In a moment of sheer desperation, I slapped him, the sound echoing in the room. Fueled by a mix of rage and heartbreak, I punched him twice, each blow a testament to the pain raging within me. Tears blurred my vision as I stared into his eyes, my entire being consumed by an indescribable sorrow.

Unable to bear the weight of the moment any longer, I turned and ran from the compound, fleeing from the echoes of shattered trust and shattered dreams.

For an hour, I ran, my legs carrying me until exhaustion claimed my body. Collapsing into the grass, I wept, the tears mingling with the blades beneath me. And then, as if through a fog, I heard voices calling my name.

Struggling to stand, my vision blurred by the tears that refused to cease, I braced myself. But before I could take another step, strong arms encircled me, catching me as I surrendered to the embrace of sleep.

When consciousness found me once again, I discovered myself in the familiarity of my room. With a mixture of resignation and defiance, I changed into a red crop top and tight blue jeans, summoning a semblance of strength. As I descended the stairs, all eyes fixated on my disheveled appearance, including Peter, whose gaze seemed to burn into my soul.

But Bucky, ever the protector, stepped forward with a stern command. "Y/N Barnes Rogers, change your outfit immediately!"

I glanced at him defiantly, poised to escape their clutches, only to have my arm seized by Steve. His gaze pleaded with me, silently begging for my cooperation. Reluctantly, I ascended the stairs, opting to drape a leather jacket over my chosen attire.

Returning downstairs, I was met with Bucky's simmering anger, his concern palpable. "Do you want to get raped? What were you thinking?"

I nodded, my anger mingling with resignation, my desire for independence at odds with their protectiveness. Clint joined in, gripping my arm, his intentions fueled by worry. Steve intervened, attempting to restore a sense of order to the chaos.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice firm yet laced with concern.

I rolled my eyes, my emotions running raw and unfiltered. Steve's grip tightened, his determination unwavering, and he guided me into the confines of my room. Bucky trailed behind, his face etched with a mix of worry and confusion.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked softly, searching for answers.

Steve, his voice steady, implored me to share everything, to lay bare the depths of my anguish. But in that moment, overcome by the weight of my pain, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Exasperated, I exclaimed, "It's none of your fucking business! Just leave me alone!"

Their eyes remained fixed upon me, a silent testament to their concern. Defiantly, I stood, ready to storm out, but Steve grasped my arm, a final attempt to rein me in. Dragging me to the time-out bench, he seated me, forcing a momentary pause.

In the midst of this tumultuous confrontation, Peter arrived, his presence both infuriating and heartbreaking. A chuckle escaped his lips, a callous response to the turmoil he had caused. Fuelled by rage, I sprang from the bench, unleashing another blow upon him, a slap resonating with the weight of my shattered trust.

Steve and Tony intervened, their attempts to restrain me met with fierce resistance. They separated us, locking me in the confines of a cell, the cold walls serving as a tangible reminder of my isolation.

My fists pounded relentlessly against the unyielding door, my desperation and frustration mingling with the pain that coursed through my veins. Hours passed as I continued to assault the impenetrable barrier, my hands growing raw and bloody, the blood staining the walls as a testament to my anguish.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door swung open, granting me freedom from my self-imposed prison. But my anger still burned bright, and I stormed past them, the room spinning around me. Dizziness consumed me, and I collapsed, my body threatening to surrender to the overwhelming weight of my emotions.

In that moment, Bucky caught me, his arms a lifeline. He whisked me away to the safety of the lab, where consciousness slipped away once more. When I awoke, disoriented and battered, I attempted to rise, but my father figures held me in a gentle yet firm grip.

Resigned to my fate, I laid back down, the battle within me intensifying with every passing second