She's Bucky Barnes' daughter. She just doesn't know it yet. Vera has the meaning of faith... she just doesn't have it.
Marvel but add a little ✨spice✨
A Bucky Barnes Daughter Story!
Vera Zola-Barnes has only gone by one name.
Shadow Hunter
Her past...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(A/N my sad puppy)
AROUND 3:30AM is when the party fully died down. Cups and balloons all over the floor. The air stenched with alcohol.
Everyone left except for the team. We all are just scattered around the room, talking amongst ourselves. Peter had to go home though. His aunt didn't want him out too late.
"And I was like," Scott pauses to yawn. "Dude, don't do that. And he didn't stop, so I punched him in the face."
"What was the purpose of the story?" Wanda questions the exhausted man.
"I don't really know anymore."
I guide my attention away from the two to locate my father. I see him in a deep conversation with Natasha. I'll talk to him later, it can wait.
"Alright, I'm heading home see you all later!" Clint shouts to everyone, saying his goodbyes.
I give Clint a hug. "I'm serious about my offer earlier, about coming by."
"Sure. I'll have to talk with my father and work out a day."
"Do you always at like this? Like a... well, grownup? 'Cause I sure ain't one."
"I know, Uncle Clint. We all know," I laugh out.
"It was nice meeting you."
"You too. Bye!" I wave to him as he gets in the elevator.
I sigh before going to my Uncle Tony.
"Hey T, how ya doin'."
He grumbles something I can't understand. "Good talk. Let's get you to bed, how's that sound?" I ask since everyone is either really tired or drunk.
I pull him up, taking an arm and wrapping it around me. We trudge to the now vacant elevator. I let him fall to the ground. The doors are about to when an arm sticks in between them.
"Got room for two more?" Uncle Steve asks, carrying a wasted Sam Wilson over his shoulder.
"Come on in. I don't mind," I wave to all the extra room.
"Are you okay?" He asks out of the blue. I turn to look over at him. He's leaning against the railing, staring at me with careful eyes.
"Fine," I reply simply.
"I'm asking because when your father came home from that place, he wasn't okay. It was rough. It still is rough, but it has gotten so much better ever since you came back into his life. He's happier, brighter than I've seen him in a long time."
"It's just," I try to find a way to word it. "It's hard to put in words. I used to dream that someone would get me out of that place. No one came, so I gave up and let the demons win."
