Stucky's daughter

31

Peter approached me with concern in his eyes. "Come on, tell me what's wrong. What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

I stared out of the window, my gaze fixed on nothing in particular, and replied in a soft voice, "Nothing."

Disappointed, Peter left, and as dinner was being prepared, I could hear everyone calling my name, their voices echoing through the house. But I ignored them, my heart heavy with a burden I couldn't bring myself to share.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching the stairs, and a desperate idea sparked in my mind. I quickly pretended to be asleep, hoping to avoid any further questions or concerns. The door creaked open, and in walked Steve, Bucky, Thor, and Tony.

They shook me gently, trying to rouse me from my slumber. But I remained still, pretending to be lost in dreams. Thor, sensing my act, scooped me up effortlessly and carried me downstairs, his strong arms cradling me like a fragile bird.

I continued my pretense, keeping my eyes shut tightly as Wanda noticed my deception. She mischievously decided to tickle me, hoping to coax me out of my facade. I reluctantly opened my eyes, and she relented, realizing that my pain ran deeper than a mere game.

I sat up, my hands nervously toying with strands of my hair. Sensing my unease, Bucky reached out and gently took hold of my hair, deftly braiding it with tender care. Anxious, I bit the inside of my mouth, feeling the sharp pain as my teeth pierced the delicate flesh. A metallic taste filled my mouth as a trickle of blood ran down my cheeks and onto my tongue.

Determined to maintain a façade of normalcy, I mustered the strength to stand up. But before I could make a move, Thor gently guided me to a chair at the table, concern etched across his face. I looked away, attempting to steady my breathing and act as though everything was fine, as if the weight on my soul was but a fleeting shadow.

Steve spoke up, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and worry. "Alright, you won't eat? Must we feed you like a little kid?"

I met his gaze briefly and shook my head, silently refusing their attempts to care for me. Their collective eyes remained fixed on me, waiting for a sign of surrender. But I couldn't bring myself to eat, to partake in the simple act of sustenance.

I mustered the courage to rise from my seat, only to have Clint grab hold of me, firmly anchoring me in place. In an unexpected turn, Bucky claimed my chair, and I reluctantly found myself seated on his lap. I struggled against his grip, yearning to break free, but he held me tight, his intentions veiled in a desire to nurture me. Despite my resistance, he attempted to feed me, but I stubbornly refused to open my mouth.

With a mix of desperation and determination, Bucky covered my nose, forcing me to gasp for air, and in that vulnerable moment, he slipped the food into my mouth. My tear-filled eyes reflected my torment as I fought against his grasp. Finally, I managed to escape his hold, and in a state of distress, I fled upstairs, seeking solace within the confines of the bathroom.

Behind the locked door, I swiftly cleaned up the mess I had made, the traces of my anguish hidden from prying eyes. I hesitantly opened the door when someone knocked, revealing Clint standing before me. I tugged at his grip, attempting to break free, but he lifted me effortlessly and led me downstairs.

As I resisted, striking out at him, Bucky eventually guided me to a chair, his grip unwavering. In a whisper, Morgan approached me, her innocent eyes filled with concern. "Come on, we'll eat together. It's really good," she urged, oblivious to the pain etched on my face.

With tear-streaked cheeks, I gazed at her and whispered, "I know, but I'm not hungry, sweetie."

She regarded me with a mix of confusion and worry, her innocence unable to comprehend the depths of my struggle. Tony chimed in, his frustration evident in his voice. "If you won't eat, we will feed you!"