Stucky's daughter

62

I stepped back, surrendering to the weight of my emotions. Rainwater cascaded down our faces as we exchanged a smile, the droplets mingling with our tears. Shivering uncontrollably, he offered me his jacket, a small gesture of warmth amidst the storm. Together, we made our way back into the house, seeking solace within its walls.

Ascending the stairs, I couldn't help but notice the gravity etched upon my father's face. We shared a glance, a silent agreement that it was time for us to have a serious conversation. They followed me upstairs, and as I began to stammer out an apology, my fathers enveloped me in a much-needed embrace.

Steve, my voice wavering, uttered, "Don't ever put yourself in danger like that again, okay?"

I nodded, my remorse palpable, and we made our way downstairs. But before I descended the stairs, Bucky's voice cut through the air, inquiring about Peter, our dear friend. I turned to face him, trying to mask my inner turmoil, and replied with a stammer, "Oh, um, yeah... I... I don't know. We're... we're good again!"

A soft chuckle escaped their lips as I proceeded downstairs. Laura, always attuned to our needs, handed me a warm cup of tea, a comforting gesture that I gratefully accepted. Settling into a chair, I offered a grateful smile before taking a sip.

Morgan, with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, caught my attention. "Y/n," she began, her voice tinged with curiosity, "wanna go outside?"

I responded eagerly, my desire for a change of scenery evident. "Of course!"

However, Tony, swaying unsteadily from the effects of alcohol, interjected, "Nope, it's raining, young ladies!"

Recognizing his intoxicated state, I gently took Morgan's hand, impulsively seizing the opportunity for an adventure. We darted outside, the rain-soaked grass beneath us as we settled down. She perched on my lap, and with childlike wonder, she pointed to my pocket, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

I glanced down and discovered the gun. Trying to downplay its significance, I assured her, "Morgan, it's nothing important, okay?"

She nodded, accepting my explanation, just as Tony appeared outside, raindrops clinging to his disheveled appearance. "Go inside, it's cold!" he called out, his voice a mix of concern and inebriation.

Heeding his advice, we raced upstairs, changing into more weather-appropriate attire. I slipped into a mini skirt, pairing it with a crop top, while Morgan donned a t-shirt to complete her outfit. As we descended the stairs once again, our unconventional attires drew puzzled looks from everyone present.

"Y/n, we told you not to wear... this," my fathers reproached, their disappointment evident.

"Dad, it's not that bad," I pleaded, attempting to defend my choice.

Steve interjected gently, "Come on, go change."

With a resigned sigh, I ascended the stairs once more. Upon my return, clad in more conventional attire, Steve smiled approvingly, bringing a sense of relief to my troubled heart. Just as I was about to sit down, Tony's voice shattered the fragile peace, demanding to inspect our pockets and belongings.

Confused and taken aback, I stammered, "What... w-why?"

Tony persisted, his intoxicated accusatory tone revealing Morgan's revelation, "Show me!"

Summoning the courage to protect my privacy, I stood my ground, retorting, "No!"

Bucky, never one to tolerate such hostility, confronted Tony, his voice laced with anger, "What the hell is your problem?"

Unbeknownst to me, Morgan had shared her discovery, exposing the presence of the gun. Overwhelmed by the revelation, I found myself uttering, "What?..."