⚠️under 18, DNI⚠️ In the wake of SHIELD's collapse and Hydra's exposure, a former agent finds herself adrift in a world that once gave her purpose. Quietly taken under Tony Stark's wing, she undergoes years of intensive training, honing her skills i...
As we finally pull up to the compound, I let out a silent sigh of relief. The outing with the girls had been fun, but my social battery was dangerously low, and the prospect of retreating to the solitude of my suite was like a beacon of comfort.
"Thanks for today, guys," I say to the girls as I step out of the car, mustering up a smile. They wave goodbye, understanding my need for some alone time, and I make my way up to my room.
Once inside, I waste no time in kicking off my chucks and flopping onto my bed with a grateful groan. The silence envelops me like a warm blanket, easing the tension in my shoulders. But as I turn my head, my eyes heavy with exhaustion, something catches my attention.
*Those books... they weren't here when I left.*
With a furrowed brow, I roll off the bed and approach my desk, where a small stack of three familiar books sits, accompanied by a note.
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I can't help but let out a sigh as I pick up the books, feeling a mix of surprise and hesitation. These are my favorites, the ones I was actually able to read through. Over and over again.
Setting the note aside for a moment, I run my fingers over the covers, a sense of comfort washing over me.
*god damnit Loki...*
I set the rest of the books down, feeling the familiar weight of each one as I arrange them neatly on the desk. White Oleander catches my eye first, its cover drawing me in with its stark beauty. I thumb through the pages, feeling the weight of the words, getting lost in the haunting prose.
I don't know exactly how long I stand there reading, the world outside the book fading away until a soft knock at my door breaks my concentration. "Come in," I call out, my voice barely audible over the whisper of the pages turning.
I don't even hear him walk in. It's not until he's standing right next to me that I realize Bucky is there, his presence pulling me back to reality. "Hey... you okay?" he asks, his touch gentle as he rubs my arm.
"Yeah," I smile, finally pulling myself out of the book and meeting his gaze. "Sorry. I was... distracted."
"I see that," he grins, his eyes warm with understanding. "What are you reading?"
I close the book and hand it to him, feeling a pang of vulnerability as he inspects the cover. "I thought you liked audiobooks?" he remarks quietly, taking the book from my hands.
"I do. Mostly. This is one of my favorites. One I actually sat down and read. Over and over. Along with these," I smile, pointing at the other two books on the desk.
"White Oleander, The Lovely Bones, Virgin Suicides?"
"Mmhm," I reply, nodding. "All very... dark. And filled with trauma," I laugh quietly, trying to lighten the heaviness of the moment.
