Stucky's daughter

55

Awakening at 5 a.m., I found myself unable to find solace in slumber. Descending the stairs, I encountered Loki and Thor, their presence hinting at their own sleepless nights. Thor posed the question, his voice laden with concern, "Can't you sleep?"

With a wearied shake of my head, I replied, "No..."

Loki, ever perceptive, inquired about my nightmares. Though skeptical of their claim, I chose not to challenge them, opting instead to maintain a semblance of peace. Thor, offering comfort, invited me to settle on his lap, cradling me in his arms. Succumbing to exhaustion, I surrendered to the safety they provided, slipping into a troubled slumber.

My next recollection was Bucky's arrival, discovering me in a drowsy state. He carried me back upstairs, his presence providing a sense of security. Yet the details of the intervening moments remained shrouded in the haze of sleep.

As the morning light filtered through the windows, Steve roused me from my restless dreams. Groggy and disoriented, I mustered a feeble response, mustering the strength to toss a pillow in his direction. His voice tinged with concern, Steve called out my name once more, only to be met with a startled scream as I tumbled to the floor.

Worriedly, he inquired about my well-being, his voice laced with genuine concern. I replied with a simple "hm," remaining seated on the floor. Observing my predicament, Steve, ever the gentle caregiver, carefully lifted me back to my feet. Yet, rather than stand, I repeatedly lowered myself to the ground, an unexpected response that puzzled both of us.

Realizing my inability to rise, Steve rushed out of the room, seeking assistance from Bucky. Moments later, he returned with my steadfast companion. Bucky's voice filled the room, his words laced with affection and worry as he attempted to coax me back to my feet. "Dolly, you must stand up," he urged gently.

Protesting with fatigue, I insisted, "But I'm tired!" However, Bucky's resolve prevailed, and he guided me back onto my feet. I relented, changing into suitable attire, preparing to face the day that awaited me.

As I descended the stairs, my phone vibrated with a message from an unexpected sender—Lukas. The mere mention of his name stirred a mixture of resentment and unease within me. His insistent tone and manipulative demands prompted a hesitant reply, begrudgingly accepting his invitation. Threats of arson against Stark Tower loomed ominously in the background, leaving me with little choice.

Caught up in the web of Lukas's manipulation, I found myself engrossed in a text conversation while my dads and Tony watched with growing concern. Attempting to intervene, Steve requested my attention, unaware of the gravity of the situation that held me captive. My response, dismissive and nonchalant, failed to quell their apprehension.

Annoyed, I retreated upstairs, seeking solace in the confines of my room. Seated on the floor, I continued my conversation, desperately grasping for a semblance of control. My dads and Tony soon followed, their presence a reminder of the growing rift between us.

Bucky, his voice tinged with frustration and worry, implored me to put my phone away. My instinctual resistance flared, but his plea prevailed, and I reluctantly complied. Seating myself once more, tension thickened the air as we prepared to address the pressing concerns that plagued us.

Their words struck a nerve, resonating with an intensity that overwhelmed me. The prospect of relinquishing my newfound power filled me with a stubborn resolve, unwilling to succumb to their desires. The frustration between us mounted, culminating in my defiant proclamation that they leave me alone.

Silence hung heavy in the room as they retreated, their footsteps fading into the distance. Alone with my thoughts, I sought refuge in the familiarity of my room, slamming the door behind me. Bucky's persistent knocking reverberated through the door, echoing my own internal turmoil.

Unable to ignore their pleas any longer, I allowed myself to be swayed by their words, reluctantly opening the door. Tears streamed down my face as Bucky's embrace enveloped me, his warmth a stark contrast to the emotional storm brewing within. Attempting to push him away, I fought against the vulnerability threatening to consume me, but his grip remained steadfast.

Desperate cries spilled forth from my trembling lips, as if to counter the heart-wrenching truth that Bucky was about to share. The weight of his words crashed upon me like an unyielding wave—Mia, my best friend, was no longer alive. I stared at him, my eyes filled with tears, as I retreated into my room, the door slamming shut behind me.

Outside, Bucky and Steve pleaded for me to open the door, their voices strained with worry. Yet, I remained curled up on the floor, my ears covered, tears streaming down my face as I repeated the words like a broken mantra, "Mia isn't dead... Mia isn't dead..."

Minutes stretched into eternity as they persisted, their pleas a muffled symphony beyond the confines of my safe haven. Finally, Steve's frustration got the best of him, and he forcefully kicked down the door. They witnessed my broken state, curled up in anguish, as the weight of reality bore down upon me.

Bucky, his voice filled with sorrow and tenderness, pulled me into his arms, offering solace amidst the storm of emotions. Though I attempted to resist, his steadfast hold refused to waver, and I found solace in the refuge he provided. Tears stained his chest as I succumbed to exhaustion, finding solace in the oblivion of sleep once more.