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novamariestark · 1 year ago

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Echoes, Fragments & Puzzle Pieces [B.B] [1/?]

Summary: You are a young woman, trying to live your life after captivity. You live in the shadows after escaping from an organisation known as The Syndicate, desperate to copy Hydra's work. You were to be their Winter Soldier but with added "bonuses". But, when opportunity knocks, will you answer it?

Warnings: none (I don't think), maybe indication of abuse. (Instead of Y/N I've put Lia, simply just to make it flow a bit better, but of course you can replace it with your name.)

Word count: 3256 (This one is longer than I intended so it'll be a mini-series)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: eventual Bucky x reader

Part 2, Part 3,

The city's museum was usually a chill place to kill an afternoon—lots of old stuff, quiet corners, and enough space that nobody paid you much mind. You liked it that way. You were just another face in the crowd, easy to miss, easier to forget.

Wandering through an exhibit on ancient Greece, you stopped in front of a vase that showed a bunch of tiny warriors doing their battle thing. There was something about it that felt... loud. Like it was yelling at you through a megaphone, begging to be noticed.

Without thinking, you reached out and touched it. Bad idea.

Suddenly, the air fizzled like someone had cranked up the voltage, and the room got all twisty. The vase’s scene went high-def, the warriors popping out and doing their fighting dance right there in the middle of the museum. People around you gasped, their phones out, probably thinking this was some kind of flash mob deal.

But then, as quick as it started, the show stopped. The warriors went back to being boring old paint on pottery. Everyone was buzzing, looking around, trying to figure out what had just happened and who’d flipped the switch.

That's when your weird gift—or curse—kicked in and suddenly, you were about as noticeable as a piece of gum stuck under a park bench. You slipped through the crowd, who were too busy arguing about what they’d seen to remember the girl who’d started it all.

You were out in the cold air before the guards even made it to the empty spot where you had been standing a second ago. Your heart was doing the samba in your chest, and your head was full of questions with no answers. What the hell did I just do? I can’t believe it happened again.

After ducking out of the museum, your quick steps turned into a jog, then a full-blown sprint the moment your feet hit the pavement. The city was a living beast around you, and you melted into it, just another face in the late afternoon rush.

You didn’t stop until you reached your current hideout—a tiny, forgotten storage room above an old laundromat. The place smelt like fabric softener and rotten wood, but it was perfect.

You fumbled with the keys, your fingers still trembling. Inside, the room was just as you left it: small, cluttered with thrift store finds, and walls covered with a collage of drawings and photos—none of which were yours. You had hoped they’d trigger something, anything, about who you were. Who you used to be. So far, no luck.

You slumped onto the bed and let out a breath you didn't realize you’d been holding. The room was quiet, but your mind was loud.

Just as you were about to chalk up the day's craziness to yet another episode you’d rather forget, a knock came at the door. Three sharp taps, like the punchline to a joke you weren’t in on.

You froze. Nobody knocked in this place, mostly because nobody knew you were here. Slowly, you crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

On the other side stood a guy in a sharp suit with a face that screamed government agent or maybe vacuum cleaner salesman. Next to him, a woman with red hair and a look that said she could dropkick you without breaking a sweat. Definitely not salespeople.

You opened the door a crack, enough to be heard, not enough to be grabbed. "Can I help you?"

The man smiled, and it was a practiced thing, like he’d done it in front of a mirror. "Lia?" he asked, his voice smooth like a radio host's. "We need to talk."

The woman chimed in, her voice just as calm but carrying a weight that made you listen. "It's about what happened at the museum today. And it's about you."

Everything in you told you to slam the door, to run and never stop running. But something else, something tired of running and hiding, wanted to stay. Maybe they had answers. Maybe they could tell you who you really were.

So, you opened the door wider, stepped back, and let them walk in.

You moved towards the window; your body tensed for flight if it turned out these people were here to hurt you. As the quiet of your room settled back in around you, you studied your unexpected guests. Agent Coulson was giving you a kind of half-smile that seemed meant to reassure you, while Natasha looked like someone who didn't do much without a reason.

Natasha took a step forward, her eyes not just seeing you, but reading you, "We've been tracking incidents like the one at the museum for a while now," she said. "Unexplained phenomena. Memories made real. They've happened in cities across the globe—Paris, Cairo, Bangkok,”

Your heart skipped. You’d never thought much about how you ended up in those places. You just... went where you felt you needed to be, slipping onto planes and boats, always just out of sight, never questioned. No tickets, no passport, no problem. It was as if the world itself had forgotten you needed those things.

Coulson chimed in, "Your... talent, it's quite extraordinary. And it's brought you to our attention for a reason. We think you can be more than just a ghost moving through the crowds."

The words hit you harder than expected. A ghost—that's exactly what you’d felt like. A nobody. A nothing. Just someone on the run. Someone who didn’t have a home or a family at least not one you could remember. But these people—these Avengers? They were offering you a chance to be something more. What should you do?

Go or stay?

"We can help you," Natasha said, and it wasn't a question. "Help you control it, use it. You've been surviving, but you could be living. With us."

You looked between them, the offer hanging heavy in the air. You had spent so long hiding in plain sight, a part of you was screaming to keep it that way. Safe. Invisible. But another part—a part you’d buried deep long ago—wanted to step into the light, to be seen, to be somebody. To be loved.

Finally, you nodded. "I want... I want to understand," you said, the words a whisper but clear. "I want to remember."

Coulson’s smile turned genuine this time, and Natasha’s posture relaxed just a fraction. "Good," Natasha replied. "Because we start tomorrow. We'll teach you, train you. And maybe along the way, we'll find out where you've really come from."

Coulson reached out his hand, a card tucked between his fingers and you immediately recoiled. Natasha took the card from his hand and placed it on the table.

“It has the address on it,” she told you, keeping her distance from you, “Time too. Don’t be late,” she added walking out, Coulson following behind. He shot you a small, apologetic smile as he left.

***

After a night of tossing and turning, the dawn finally broke free and it was time to head out. Was this the start of your new life? Should you get your hopes up? Probably not. If you don’t, at least you won’t be disappointed.

After navigating the busy sidewalks and dodging psychotic cab drivers, you found yourself gazing up at the Avengers Tower, its glass facade reflecting the bustling city life below. It was massive, stretching up into the clouds like Jack’s beanstalk.

Taking a shaky breath, you stepped through the sliding doors. Your sneakers scuffed the gleaming floor of the Avengers Tower as you entered, your eyes darting up to the dizzying heights of the lobby's ceiling. The place was like a slice of the future, dropped right in the middle of New York City, all shiny metal and cool blue light.

You stood there for a second, feeling small and insignificant in the buzz of the place. People were everywhere, striding by, talking into earpieces, and tapping on tablets. Your heart thumped a nervous rhythm, but you squared your shoulders and took a step forward. No more hiding.

A man with a badge and a tie approached you with a business-like smile. "Lia?" His voice was smooth, practiced. He gestured toward the elevators with a sweep of his hand. "Right this way."

You rode up in silence, focusing on the numbers on the elevator panel climbing trying to distract yourself from the proximity of the stranger and the fact there was no escape. You felt the weight of the building above you, full of heroes and stories and now, maybe, a place for you too.

No. don’t get your hopes up. You told yourself.

The training floor was like stepping onto another planet. You hadn’t seen this much technology in an electronic store. It was all open space and moving parts, with areas marked out for fighting, climbing, and things you couldn't even hazard a guess at. High above, screens showed maps and data flickering past too fast for you to read.

Soon your gaze fell on Natasha, looking every inch the hero, you had seen on TV, but realer, somehow. "Glad you could make it," she said, and there was a thread of something like pride in her voice. You just nodded, forcing a small polite smile, “We’re gonna do some hand-to-hand combat, see what you can do. You okay with that?”

Not really, you thought, the last time you fought was for survival. Kill or be killed. You’d rather not have taken another life, but he left you no choice. But at least he deserved to die. There were others that didn’t. Others that died at your hand.

“Okay,” she murmured, the word barely making it out before being swallowed by the expanse of the room. It was a lie wrapped in a whisper.

Natasha nodded, sensing the tremor in your voice, the shadow of understanding passed over her eyes. "We'll take it slow," she assured, though you both knew that in combat, there's no such thing.

As you squared off, you could feel the ghosts of your past rising up, specters waiting to see if you’d fall back into your old patterns. But this was a new day, a new place, with rules you were still trying to understand. Here, you weren’t a weapon, but a lost soul seeking redemption—one carefully controlled move at a time.

Your practice session was in full swing when the heavy thud of boots drew your attention to the entrance, where you found the Avengers.

A tall blonde man led the pack, his presence commanding yet genial. He approached you with an easy stride, a congenial smile playing on his lips. "Hi, Lia. I'm Steve Rogers," he said, extending his hand in greeting.

The gesture, meant to be friendly, was a trigger. Your instincts, honed by too many betrayals and battles, kicked in. Your muscles tensed, your stance shifted, ready to move, to defend. You didn't see Captain America, the symbol of trust and bravery; you saw a potential threat, another combatant in the long line you had faced.

You recoiled sharply, stepping back and away from the offered hand. Steve's hand hung in the air. His smile faltered into a look of concern, and he slowly lowered his arm, taking a step back to respect your space. The reaction reminded him of what Bucky was like when he first arrived. The room filled with a tense silence, each Avenger processing the scene, recalibrating their approach.

"I... I'm sorry," You stammered, the words escaping you in a rush, "I didn't mean—"

Steve shook his head gently, cutting you off. "No need to apologize," he reassured you.

The other Avengers exchanged glances, their initial assessments of you now tinged with a new understanding. They saw not just a potential ally with valuable skills, but a person still grappling with the shadows of their past, still fighting a war within yourself that hadn't yet ended.

With the tension still hanging in the air like a thick fog. They didn't advance any further, but they continued their introductions, each mindful of your space.

Tony Stark, with his hands safely tucked away, gave a little wave from a distance. "Tony," he said simply, opting for a nod instead of his usual flamboyant welcome.

Bruce Banner offered a warm, empathetic smile, his hands clasped in front of him. "Bruce here. I know a thing or two about keeping a lid on it," he said with a gentle chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

Clint Barton remained where he was, leaning against the wall with a friendly grin. "Clint."

Thor’s voice, always filled with a regal boom, softened slightly out of respect for you, "Thor of Asgard," he introduced himself with a small bow of his head rather than his usual enthusiastic handshake.

Bucky Barnes watched you with an understanding that came from shared experiences. He simply nodded, his introduction a quiet murmur. "Bucky."

As the Avengers took their places along the edge of the training area, Natasha turned back to you, her expression both understanding and focused. "Ready to keep going?" she asked, her tone suggesting you could stop at any moment if you felt uncomfortable.

You nodded, your breath steadying as you found your footing again. The session resumed with Natasha guiding you through a series of defensive moves, demonstrating and then watching as you mimicked them. Your movements were precise, almost too perfect, each one carried out with a fluidity that spoke of muscle memory ingrained from countless battles.

After the session, they gathered to discuss privately, leaving you to reflect on your performance and your past. Each member had an opinion about you, Steve voiced his impression first, noting your skill and potential. Natasha spoke of your control and focus. Tony, ever the skeptic, remained quiet, observing and calculating. Bruce empathized with your struggle for control, and Clint expressed his belief in your abilities. Thor saw a warrior's spirit, and Bucky, he saw a reflection of his own path to redemption.Top of Form

"I know what it's like to be on the outside, to not know if you can control what you've become. She needs this. We might be the only ones who can help her." Bucky added, his voice steady and sure.

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. She's special, mysterious, but we're not a charity. We can't keep picking up strays." He added, he looked over to Bucky, “No offence, Robo-Cop,”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “I think we should give her a chance,” There were nods and a few "hmms" of agreement.

Tony was still on the fence and Nat rolled her eyes, “You can afford it,”

Tony shot her a mock glare, but the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I suppose the Tower can house one more," he conceded, a begrudging warmth seeping into his voice, “There’s a spare room beside Wanda,”

Natasha found you where they'd left you, still on the training mat, now sitting you’re your knees pulled up to your chest, lost in thought. You looked up as Natasha approached, your guard visibly rising again.

Natasha didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You're in," she said, her voice carrying a firmness that left no room for doubt. "Welcome to the Avengers."

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with promise and uncertainty. Your face remained guarded, but a flicker of something—relief, perhaps, or cautious hope—passed over your features, "Thank you," you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Natasha gestured for you to follow. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

You walked in silence as she led you to a room not far from the main living area. "This will be your space," she said, opening the door to a room that was simple and clean, with a bed, a desk, and a window that looked out over the city, “I know it’s bare but you can decorate it how you want,”

You stepped inside tentatively, your eyes taking in every detail of the room. It was more than you’d expected, a place of your own within this fortress of heroes. "It's perfect," you said, allowing yourself a small smile as you ran your fingers over the smooth fabric of the bedspread.

Natasha leaned against the doorframe as your eyes floated around the room, she spoke up softly as not to startle you, “Dinner is in an hour, it’s pizza night, any preference?”

“Cheese is okay,” you replied, not wanting to be awkward and order something too extra.

“Okay, we usually eat all together but I can bring it up and you can eat in here if you prefer,” she offered, you nodded, but something in her face showed that she already knew what your decision would be. She gave you a nod and a smile before closing the door to give you privacy.

Your eyes left the closed door and started scanning the room again. The walls were a soft shade of cream, bare and waiting for a personal touch. You weren’t sure you had. It had a bed, neatly made with crisp white linens and a sturdy desk sat patiently against one wall.

But the big window was what really caught her eye. It was huge, like a giant TV screen showing the live bustle of the city below. She could see the tiny cars and people moving down there, all busy and rushing around, unaware of the girl who watched from above.

You went up to the window and pressed your hands against it. It felt cool and a little bit thrilling to see everything from up so high.

This room was a new start, a blank page. But even with the excitement, you couldn't shake off the jitters in your belly. You were scared of getting hurt again, scared of someone turning on you. Scared of turning into the thing you hated most. The killer that was planted within you. This place was safe, they said, but you’d heard that before.

Hugging yourself, you tried to imagine being part of all that life below. The room felt like a cozy nest, but you were like a bird that wasn't sure how to fly yet. One who had forgotten how to.

As the sun started to set, the sky turned all kinds of pretty colors, and lights began twinkling on in the buildings and streets. Maybe one day, you thought, one of those lights would feel like home to you.

For tonight, you were just a girl with a new room, looking out at the city and feeling a mix of hope and worry. Tomorrow you’d start figuring out how to fit into this new life. But right now, you were okay just watching and waiting, high above the quiet city that was slowly going to sleep.

An hour later, there was a soft knock on your door. You opened it to see Natasha, who remained on the other side of the threshold, a respectful distance away, holding a pizza box. The aroma of melted cheese hinted at the contents, “Here's your cheese pizza,”

You took the box, feeling the warmth from the bottom seep into your hands. “Thanks,” she replied, her stomach rumbling in response.

Natasha gave you a quick nod. “Enjoy,” she said, and then she was gone, leaving you alone with your pizza and the view of the city lights below.

[A/N] the song I listened to writing this 😂

#reader insert #female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers #avengers x reader #Spotify

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