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...
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Wanda stands in front of the sweet- smelling ingredients. She wants me to help her make breakfast for dinner. I can't cook. I've been trying to nail that in her head, but she just doesn't seem to get it.
"Just crack the eggs on the edge, like this." She demonstrates what she wants me to do.
"You make it look easy!" I insist, putting my hair in a quick bun and washing my hands.
"That's because it is easy. Just don't get any shells in it, wouldn't want to be tasting that while eating pancakes."
"Reassuring." I joke about what she said.
Wanda rolls her eyes, having enough with my sarcasm. "Just break the dang eggs!"
A faint "language" is heard from the living room from my favorite uncle.
I turn to my task. Shouldn't be too hard, right?
Nope, hard. Very, very hard. I nearly got every piece of shell in the bowl, got flower in my hair and all over the kitchen, burnt the pancakes, and to top it all off, everyone is laughing at my failure.
"Guys, not funny!"
"So-," Sam gasps in a breath. "Funny, so so funny!"
I glare playfully at the group the world classifies as the Avengers.
"I'm going to call pizza in, it doesn't look like pancakes are on the menu anymore." Tony jokes furthermore.
He makes the call, and wait for food to arrive. We eat the Italian cheesiness quickly.
"Want to go play baseball out in the front yard?" Steve suggests.
"I actually know how to play! HYDRA gave me a mission to assassinate a guy at a baseball game, I watched some while I there."
Eerie silence settles in the room. Natasha thankfully breaks it.
"Sounds great, Steve, you boys go get the equipment."
We all make it onto the newly made field. Splitting in teams. Wanda, Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Nat are on one team. Bucky, Steve, Sam, and I are on another team. They aren't equally split, but with the people who are athletic, it makes it fair.
We're up to bat first, quickly forming a line.
"I'm third!"
"No, I'm third!" Sam argues with my father.
"Here, why doesn't Sam be second, Papa third, and I'll be last. I will run you all home." I break the bickering with an easy solution.
They nod in agreement, getting the order I gave them without complaint.
Steve, Sam, and Bucky easily load the bases for me. I strut up to bat, swinging the baseball bat around like a pro.
"Don't mess this up!" Sam pressures.
"When am I ever known to mess something up... don't answer that!"
I send the ball out of the field, grandslamming and jogging all the bases off.
"Told ya!"
Author's Note: I will post when I have published a part of the second book, farewell for now! - J.S.
