Stucky's daughter

22

In that haunting moment, confusion and fear gripped me tightly as I questioned Steve's command. "What?" I stammered, my voice trembling with disbelief. Steve's expression grew stern, his voice laced with an unwavering determination. "No! You're not going anywhere. Stay here," he insisted, his words ringing with an urgency I couldn't comprehend. I searched his face, desperately seeking answers, but overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation, I looked away.

A mixture of fear and uncertainty coursed through my veins as Steve's grip on my arm loosened, allowing Peter to gently guide me to the couch. His presence was a soothing balm amidst the chaos that enveloped us. We resumed our movie-watching, the tragic tale of Titanic unfolding before our eyes.

As the credits rolled, a wave of frustration washed over me, and I couldn't contain my thoughts any longer. "Why do we watch this shit every time? It's like... I don't know," I muttered, my voice trailing off. Peter's laughter erupted, filling the room with a momentary respite from the tension. Yet, my gaze remained fixed on him, my mind awash with unspoken words and hidden emotions.

In a gentle gesture, Peter brought me ice, and we immersed ourselves in a spirited game of Wii, with him diligently feeding me in between rounds. Eventually, boredom settled in, prompting me to seek solace upstairs with a book in hand. However, my solitude was short-lived, as my fathers burst into the room, their exasperation palpable. "Really? We told you not to come up here!" they scolded.

Rolling my eyes and feeling the weight of frustration bearing down upon me, I allowed myself to fall back onto the bed, a silent act of defiance. "You should knock before you enter my room," I retorted, my words laced with a rebellious edge. But as the realization of my defiance washed over me, leaving me momentarily stunned, Bucky's firm grip pulled me away, leading me to a time-out bench. Anger simmered beneath the surface, fueled by a weariness that seemed to consume me. "Really? Come on, I'm tired and have a fever," I protested wearily, my voice laden with exhaustion.

Bucky knelt down, his eyes filled with genuine concern, his voice gentle yet resolute. "If you were truly tired, you would have fallen asleep. And I don't believe you have a fever anymore," he asserted, his words tinged with a mix of care and authority. With those words hanging in the air, they walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Sighing heavily, frustration still bubbling within me, I hastily ascended the stairs, clutching my book tightly, seeking solace within its pages.

Time slipped away, merging into fleeting moments, and the heaviness of exhaustion began to weigh upon me. My eyes grew heavy, and before I knew it, sleep enveloped me, granting me a temporary respite from the torment that plagued my waking hours.

Abruptly, the tranquility shattered, disrupted by Steve and Bucky's sudden entrance, their hurried steps resonating through the room. Panic tinged their voices as they urgently shook me, their words pleading for my awakening. In a daze, my eyes fluttered open, met with Steve's worried expression. He tenderly attempted to place a cold, wet towel on my forehead, a feeble attempt to quell the fever that raged within.

Instinctively, I recoiled, my weakened body struggling to escape his gentle touch. "Shhh, honey, you have a fever. Shhh," Steve whispered softly, his voice filled with tenderness that seeped into the depths of my troubled soul. I met his gaze, a swirl of confusion, trust, and weariness reflecting in my eyes. Fatigue threatened to overwhelm me once more, but not before Bruce and Bucky burst into the room, their concerned presence a reminder of the severity of my condition.

Summoning every ounce of strength I could muster, I tried to stand, my voice wavering as I declared, "I'm fine, thanks." Yet, my efforts were in vain as dizziness washed over me, causing me to sway unsteadily. Just in time, Steve caught me, easing me back onto the bed. Bruce offered me pills and placed two cold towels on my forehead, their soothing touch providing respite from the feverish heat that consumed me.

The room buzzed with urgency as Bruce approached with an injection in hand. In an attempt to assuage my fears, he murmured, "Okay, Y/n, this won't hurt." Skepticism tinged my voice as I mustered a defiant response. "I may have a fever, but I'm not dumb." Vulnerability and defiance clashed within me as I sought solace, wrapping my arms tightly around Steve's waist, finding comfort in his steadfast presence.

Suddenly, Thor appeared in the room, his presence an unwelcome intrusion. Panic surged through me as he grabbed my arm, his grip unyielding, trapping me within his grasp. Tears welled in my eyes, my body wracked with sobs as I futilely struggled against his hold, my pleas for release echoing through the room. Powerless to break free, I succumbed to my fears, my tears a testament to the pain that consumed me.

Finally, the ordeal came to an end, and I succumbed to exhaustion once more, sleep claiming me like a soothing balm for my weary soul. In the depths of slumber, a nightmare took hold—a chilling encounter with darkness and despair. A blood-curdling scream escaped my lips, my breaths ragged and heavy as I awoke, consumed by distress.

Peter, ever attentive, rushed to my side, providing solace in our embrace. He held me close, offering comfort and understanding in the face of my turmoil. As my fathers appeared in the doorway, their worried expressions softened as they witnessed a rare smile gracing my lips in the midst of my slumber