In which a young girl, Elenora, finds her father. And a curly-haired boy with a totally rockin' suit.
disclaimer : i don't own marvel
STEVE X OC!DAUGHTER
BUCKY X OC!DAUGHTER
elenora, Connor, Bridget, jade, Beatrice, Marley are my characters. plots...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"MORE FORCE," BUCKY PUSHED as Elenora sent another set of harsh punches to his boxing gloves; they were leather, and thick with stuffing, and Elenora threw her punches harder not only because Bucky asked, but to make sure he'd feel it.
He didn't.
"Harder and quicker. Keep a steady pace."
In her defense, Elenora was going harder and quicker, but her arms were near giving up, and she tried her best to keep a rhythm, but it was hard.
Before this, she had trained for three hours. Not that she was alone, or anything - the entire group was practicing. But at some point, around half an hour ago, the gym starting emptying, and one by one the participants leaving the room.
But she was left.
In the last week, Elenora had taught herself not to mind this sort of thing; she wanted to be a leader of the group. So it wasn't the staying after thing she had a problem with, it was what she was missing because of it.
Forget dinner. Forget quality bonding time with her friends - even though that is very important, and Elenora takes it very seriously, today was the one day she could not be late getting out of practice.
She had a date.
She'd say she had a hotdate, but Peter had probably cooled off with the rest of the team like twenty minutes ago.
"Focus," Bucky called out, and the sound of his voice caught Elenora off guard, giving a harsh punch - harsher than before - and then reeling her arm back in embarrassment.
Her hit wasn't that strong, but Bucky fumbled back a few inches just for a show.
She closed her eyes to help her recompose, her fingers flying to her temple and her defensive arm dropping to her side.
"You alright?" was Bucky's response, his arms relaxing in their outstretched position.
Elenora nodded. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine," she excused, holding up her arms in the stance that Bucky had shown her that day, rethinking everything she had to do ; tighten core, shift feet, adjust her weight placement - the list went on and on.
"Look," Bucky called, and Elenora let her sore arms drop to her sides again. Her dad's eyes held that mild look of concern that they often did during long practices. For the most part, he tried to hide it from Elenora, but it was clear he couldn't now. "I know you're tired," he told her, losing his hold on Elenora's eyes as she tugged her ponytail tighter. "But you've got to keep going."
She said nothing - she wasn't going to disagree with him ; this could honestly, at one point, become a life or death situation. This practice could be what saved her and others' lives.
