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mintyys-blog · 2 months ago

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avengers X reader: past

WARNINGS: mention of murder

You were trying your best to be calm and collected, but you could already feel that creeping excitement bubbling under the surface. You took a deep breath as you approached the gym.

Inside, you found Natasha doing pull-ups with ease, and Clint was sharpening a few arrows in the corner. You knew they had a strong partnership, but seeing them in action was a whole different experience.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual, leaning against the doorframe. “How’s the workout going?”

Natasha didn’t even break a sweat as she dropped down from the pull-up bar. “Same as usual,” she said, catching your eye with a hint of amusement. “What about you? You settling in?”

“I’m… getting there,” you said with a smile, forcing yourself to look around and not just stare at Natasha’s perfect form. You had studied her combat techniques—how she moved with precision, her adaptability in any situation—but seeing her in action, seeing her in person, was a whole other level of impressive. “I just wanted to check in and make sure I wasn’t missing any training or… anything else I should be doing.”

“Well, when you’re ready,” Clint said, looking up from his arrows, “we could use a sparring partner. I’m sure you’ve got some moves.”

You chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “Oh, I mean, I’m definitely more of a… support person. I’m good with strategy and research. I’ve done some hand-to-hand, but, uh… maybe not against you two.”

Natasha grinned. “Don’t worry. We won’t go too hard on you.”

You smiled back, but your mind was racing. I can’t believe I’m here, talking to them. To Natasha and Clint. I read about every mission they’ve ever been on. Every fight. Every move. And here they are, right in front of me.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi. Maybe I’ll stop by the next training session, get in some practice.”

“You’re always welcome to join,” Clint said, giving you a quick smile. “Just don’t expect us to go easy on you forever.”

You laughed, nodding. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As you turned to leave, you nearly bumped into Thor, who was walking down the hallway with his usual boisterous energy. “Ah, Y/N!” he boomed, his voice echoing off the walls. “It is good to see you, my friend!”

“Thor!” you said, smiling widely despite yourself. “Uh, good to see you too. How’s it going?”

Thor slapped you on the back with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of you, but you kept your balance, grinning. “It goes well! I was just speaking with Banner. We were discussing the best ways to improve my hammer’s impact, but I must confess that it requires more testing than I originally anticipated.”

You blinked at him, trying not to be too obvious about how much you were enjoying this conversation. “Testing? You’ve been… testing it?”

“Aye!” Thor said enthusiastically. “I have thrown Mjolnir at a few trees to see how it fares against different kinds of wood. I find it most amusing.”

You laughed, despite yourself. “That’s… uh, definitely a very Thor way to go about it.”

Thor grinned. “You are wise, Y/N. Few could see the logic in my ways so quickly. It pleases me to know you are as resourceful as the others.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” you said, trying not to get too overwhelmed by his praise. “I mean, it’s just that I read—uh, well, I mean, studied a lot of… your past battles. And, you know, if you’re ever looking for a, uh, sparring partner or just someone to, you know, discuss the details of the… battles you’ve fought, I’m totally up for it.”

Thor looked down at you with an amused, almost fatherly expression. “I see. You have done much studying of my victories, yes? Very well, if ever you wish to learn the ways of Asgardian combat, I shall teach you the art of the hammer!”

You tried to play it cool. “I mean, I’m more of a… quick thinker than a brawler, but sure, I’ll take a lesson in Asgardian combat. That sounds amazing.”

Thor laughed, clearly delighted by your enthusiasm. “I look forward to it. You shall be a worthy warrior yet!”

You watched as he walked off, the excitement buzzing beneath your skin again. Did you hear that? Thor said you’d be a worthy warrior. A worthy warrior. This is real. This is happening. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Just stay cool.

Shaking your head, you tried to refocus, but before you could get far, you found yourself in the elevator with none other than Tony Stark. He was tinkering with something on his phone, his eyes barely glancing up as you stepped inside.

“You’re awfully quiet for a new recruit,” Tony said, breaking the silence.

“I’m… just trying to absorb everything,” you said, trying to sound calm. “You know, process everything I’m learning. It’s kind of a lot all at once.”

Tony finally looked up, his signature smirk appearing. “You’re not just a fan, are you?”

You froze for a moment before laughing it off. “No! No, definitely not. I mean, yeah, I’ve read about your tech—probably more than I should have—but I’m here for a reason. I’m good at what I do.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So you’re not just here to collect autographs and take selfies with me?”

You shook your head, trying to look serious, though you felt the giggle bubbling up inside you. “No, I’m here to help. If you need research, strategy—anything technical—I’ve got you covered. I just want to contribute to the team.”

Tony studied you for a moment before smiling, his usual cocky grin returning. “Alright. I like you, kid. Just don’t get too attached to my tech. I don’t hand out souvenirs.”

You nodded eagerly, trying not to show how absolutely thrilled you were to be having a conversation with Tony Stark. “I promise, no souvenir hunting. Just… here to help however I can.”

As you exited the elevator, Tony called after you. “You know, we’ve got a mission briefing in a bit. I’m sure you’ve read about all of our past ones, so… feel free to jump in with any tips.”

You gave a small chuckle. “I’d love to, but I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“I’m sure you’ll find your place,” Tony said with a wink. “Eventually.”

You stepped into the training room, intent on just observing the team at work. It wasn’t that you were afraid to train—you’d spent years preparing for something like this—but jumping into a fight with the Avengers? That was a whole different level of pressure.

Clint was currently sparring with a training dummy, moving fluidly between attacks, each hit landing with precision. His footwork was sharp, and his reflexes were quick, but you could already see the patterns in his movements. The way he shifted his weight before a strike, the slight tilt of his head when he planned to feint—it was all familiar. You had studied him for years.

And apparently, you weren’t being subtle about it.

“You analyzing me, rookie?” Clint called out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked. “What?”

He smirked, wiping some sweat off his brow. “You’re staring pretty hard. Don’t worry, I know I look good when I fight.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was just… observing.”

“Uh-huh.” He grabbed a towel and slung it over his shoulder, then turned toward you. “Alright then. Since you seem to know so much, how about you hop in?”

You glanced around, half-expecting him to be talking to someone else. When no one else reacted, you blinked at him. “Wait… me?”

Clint grinned. “Yeah, you. C’mon, don’t tell me you just plan on standing around all day.”

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “I—uh—are you sure?”

Natasha, who had been stretching nearby, smirked as she leaned against the wall. “I’d like to see this.”

Clint motioned toward the mat. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that you knew Clint’s fighting style inside and out. You had studied his techniques, memorized his movements, and, in theory, you knew exactly how to counter him. The question was—could you actually do it?

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

You and Clint took your positions, circling each other on the mat. He was loose and relaxed, clearly confident that he could take you down without breaking a sweat. You, on the other hand, were running through every sparring match you’d ever seen him do, predicting his next moves before he even made them.

Then he struck.

A quick jab, testing your reflexes. You dodged easily, stepping back before shifting to the side. Another move—this time a feint to the left before trying to sweep your legs. But you saw it coming.

You pivoted at just the right moment, sidestepping his attack. Clint’s expression flickered with surprise, but he covered it up quickly, going for another strike. You dodged again.

And again.

Natasha hummed from the sidelines. “Huh.”

Clint frowned, adjusting his stance. “Alright, you have been watching me.”

You gave him an innocent smile. “Not in a creepy way.”

That was enough to throw him off for just a second. And that was all you needed.

As he moved in again, you ducked low, sweeping your leg out underneath him and catching him off guard. Before he could react, you followed through, knocking his legs out from under him completely.

Clint hit the mat with a surprised grunt, staring up at the ceiling.

You gasped, stepping back quickly. “Oh my God, I am so sorry—”

He propped himself up on his elbows, blinking at you like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “Did you just—?”

Natasha, still leaning against the wall, started clapping. “Wow. That was fast.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you stepped back, offering Clint a hand. “I—I didn’t mean to actually take you down—”

Clint took your hand, still looking stunned. “You—” He shook his head, a grin forming. “You really have been watching me.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Not in a creepy way.”

Natasha smirked. “That’s the second time she’s said that. Starting to think it is a little creepy.”

You groaned. “Okay, I study people, alright? Strategy is kind of my thing.”

Clint let out a breath, still amused. “Well, damn. I didn’t even land a hit.”

You gave a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry?”

Clint just chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I like a challenge.”

Natasha crossed her arms, looking at you with interest. “You should train with me next.”

You gulped. “Uh—maybe later?”

She smirked. “We’ll see.”

Deciding you had tested your luck enough for one day, you quickly excused yourself.

After leaving the training room, you decided to explore the compound a little more. You still hadn’t met everyone yet, and you were bound to run into someone sooner or later.

Sure enough, as you wandered into the kitchen, you found Wanda and Vision standing by the counter. Wanda was stirring something in a mug, while Vision stood beside her, looking contemplative.

“—I still do not fully grasp the purpose of putting marshmallows into hot chocolate,” Vision was saying.

Wanda sighed. “It’s not about logic, Vis. It just tastes good.”

You grinned as you stepped inside. “She’s right, you know. It’s a crucial part of the experience.”

Wanda turned to you, smiling warmly. “Y/N! How’s your first day?”

You shrugged. “So far, I’ve managed to embarrass myself only a little, so I’d say it’s going well.”

Vision tilted his head. “Statistically speaking, that is an impressive feat, considering you are surrounded by such formidable individuals.”

You blinked. “I… think that was a compliment?”

Wanda chuckled. “It was.”

You smiled, watching as Wanda plopped another marshmallow into her drink. Vision observed with quiet curiosity, then, after a moment, used his powers to levitate one into his own cup.

You shook your head, amused. “This place is wild.”

As you left the kitchen, you nearly bumped into someone in the hallway. You looked up and immediately tensed when you saw him.

Bucky Barnes.

Unlike the others, Bucky didn’t greet you with a smile or a teasing remark. He simply gave you a brief, unreadable glance before continuing down the hall.

You swallowed, feeling a chill run down your spine. Bucky was the only one on the team you hadn’t figured out yet.

And from the way he looked at you—like he was trying to place you—it was clear that he hadn’t figured you out either.

Deciding not to push your luck, you kept walking, eager to see who else you’d run into.

One thing was for sure—this was going to be interesting.

After your run-in with Bucky, you decided to keep wandering, making a mental map of the compound as you went. The place was massive, and despite all the research you’d done, actually being here was different. You still couldn’t believe you were living at the Avengers Compound.

As you rounded a corner, you heard a familiar voice—one that immediately made you smile.

“Man, I know I had a sandwich in here,” Sam Wilson muttered from inside the common room.

You peered inside, spotting Sam standing in front of an open fridge, arms crossed as he surveyed the nearly empty shelves.

“Someone steal your lunch?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Sam turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, hey, newbie. Yeah, someone’s got sticky fingers around here.”

You smirked. “It was probably Scott.”

Sam blinked. “Wait, what?”

You shrugged. “Scott Lang. He steals food all the time. Especially sandwiches. He did it to Hank Pym once, and let’s just say… it didn’t go well.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

You hesitated for half a second before casually saying, “I read his files.”

Which wasn’t technically a lie. You had read his files. You just also had gone through every single interview, news clip, and debriefing he’d ever done.

Sam studied you for a long moment before shaking his head. “Okay, that’s mildly concerning.”

“Not in a creepy way,” you said quickly.

“That’s exactly what a creepy person would say.”

Before you could defend yourself, another voice chimed in from the doorway.

“Oh, hey! Are we talking about how weirdly much Y/N knows about us?”

You turned to see Peter Parker, still in his hoodie and backpack, grinning as he walked in.

“Peter!” you said, smiling. “I thought you weren’t coming by until next week.”

Peter blinked. “Uh… yeah? How did you know that?”

Sam turned back to you with a smirk. “Yeah, Y/N, how did you know that?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. “…I just keep up with things.”

Peter gave you a curious look but didn’t push it further. Instead, he dropped his bag on the couch and stretched. “Well, I’m here now! And I’m starving.”

Sam scoffed. “Good luck. Someone already stole my food.”

Peter winced. “Oof. Rookie mistake. Never leave your food unattended in a place full of superhumans.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “This is my life now.”

You chuckled before turning back to Peter. “Oh, by the way, congrats on your chemistry grade. I know you were struggling with that.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wait—how do you—” He paused, then groaned. “Oh my God. You read my interviews, didn’t you?”

You coughed awkwardly. “Maybe.”

Peter pointed at you. “Okay, that’s low-key terrifying.”

Sam nodded. “Told you.”

You sighed dramatically. “Look, I swear it’s not weird. I just like to be informed.”

Peter shook his head, but he was grinning. “I’m watching you, Y/N.”

Sam snorted. “Welcome to the club, kid.”

Later that day, you found yourself in one of the conference rooms, flipping through files on the latest mission details. You were so focused that you didn’t even notice someone walking in until they cleared their throat.

You looked up and immediately straightened.

James Rhodes.

War Machine himself.

He gave you a polite but scrutinizing look as he set down a tablet. “You must be Y/N.”

You stood up, offering your hand. “Yep. Nice to meet you, Colonel Rhodes.”

Rhodey shook your hand, still eyeing you curiously. “Heard a lot about you.”

You tilted your head. “Good things, I hope?”

Rhodey smirked. “Well, that depends. Sam and Peter are convinced you know way too much about all of us.”

You groaned. “Seriously? I told them, it’s not weird—”

Rhodey chuckled. “Relax, kid. I’m just messing with you.”

You sighed in relief, then hesitated before saying, “For the record, I do know a lot about you, but only because I admire your work.”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

You nodded. “Your aerial combat strategies are genius, and your ability to adapt mid-battle is one of the best I’ve seen. Not to mention, you personally helped coordinate the clean-up efforts after Sokovia and Wakanda, which—by the way—was extremely impressive given the scale of both situations.”

Rhodey blinked.

Then blinked again.

“Well, damn,” he muttered. “You really did your homework.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I like to be prepared.”

Rhodey let out a low whistle. “Alright, I gotta admit—that’s kind of impressive.”

“Not in a creepy way,” you added quickly.

Rhodey just chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that.”

Over the next few days, it became increasingly obvious to the team just how much you knew about them.

You casually reminded Bruce of a lecture he gave years ago—one he barely remembered himself.

You knew the exact number of missions Natasha had completed (which she had to double-check because she wasn’t even sure if you were right—you were).

You corrected Tony on a detail about one of his past inventions, which led to a five-minute argument before he begrudgingly admitted you were right.

Even Steve, who usually kept his distance, raised an eyebrow when you asked about a mission he’d done before he was Captain America.

And then there was Bucky.

Unlike the others, he didn’t laugh or tease when he noticed how much you knew. He just watched. Quiet. Observant.

You weren’t sure if that was a good thing.

But one thing was certain—at this rate, the whole team was starting to realize that you weren’t just another recruit.

You were a fan—a very well-informed, slightly terrifyingly prepared fan.

And there was no hiding it now.

After a week of increasingly suspicious encounters, the team finally decided they needed answers.

It started with Tony.

“She’s gotta have a paper trail,” he muttered, typing rapidly on one of his holographic screens. “No one just appears out of nowhere.”

Bruce, standing behind him, frowned. “You sound paranoid.”

“Paranoid? No, no, Banner—paranoid would be if I thought she was a spy,” Tony said, then paused. “Wait. Do we think she’s a spy?”

Sam, arms crossed, leaned against the table. “If she is, she’s either the worst or best one I’ve ever seen. Who just casually tells people they know every detail about them?”

Natasha smirked. “Maybe she’s just a really dedicated fangirl.”

“Or an alien,” Peter suggested, eyes wide. “What if she’s, like, a super-advanced AI?”

Tony scoffed. “Please, if she were an AI, I’d know.”

Steve, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “We should at least look into it. Just in case.”

So they did.

And what they found—or rather, didn’t find—made things worse.

There were barely any records on you. No birth certificate, no school records, no medical history. It was like you hadn’t existed until a few years ago.

Tony scrolled through the limited data they could pull. “This is weird. According to this, she just… popped into existence.”

Rhodey frowned. “How is that possible?”

Natasha leaned closer. “Her earliest records are only a few years old—basic stuff, nothing detailed. No family listed, no addresses before that time. It’s like she just started her life then.”

Bucky, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “That’s not normal.”

Steve nodded. “No, it’s not.”

Clint let out a slow whistle. “Alright. That’s officially unsettling.”

Sam looked around. “So… what do we do?”

There was a beat of silence before Tony leaned back in his chair.

“We ask her.”

You were sitting on the common room couch when you realized something was up.

For one, everyone was acting weird. Tony kept sneaking glances at you, Steve was watching you with that Captain America Serious Expression™, and Sam had been whispering with Bucky for the last five minutes.

Finally, Natasha sat down next to you and smiled.

“So,” she said casually. “How’s your day going?”

You squinted. “Fine…?”

Clint plopped onto the couch across from you. “Great, great. Quick question—who are you?”

You blinked. “Uh. Y/N?”

Tony leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Right. And would you say you’re good at hiding secrets? Or just, like, freakishly good at wiping your own past?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh,” you said slowly. “So that’s what this is about.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound surprised.”

You sighed, leaning back. “I figured you’d look me up eventually.”

Steve folded his arms. “And?”

You shrugged. “And you didn’t find much, did you?”

Peter, who had been silent until now, waved his arms. “That’s the problem! You barely exist before a few years ago! That’s weird, Y/N!”

You hesitated. “It’s… complicated.”

Bucky, who had been watching you closely, finally spoke. “Explain it.”

You glanced around, taking in the expectant—and slightly suspicious—looks on their faces.

Then you sighed.

“Okay. But promise not to freak out.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “That is absolutely the worst thing you could’ve said right now.”

You took a deep breath.

Time to tell them the truth.

Dancing Around the Truth

You could feel the weight of their stares, the tension thick in the air as they waited for an answer.

You tapped your fingers against your thigh, considering your words carefully.

“Well,” you said finally, “it’s not that I don’t have a past. It’s just… not one I like to talk about.”

Natasha tilted her head. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

You sighed. “Look, I get why you’re all wary. I would be, too. But I promise I’m not some spy or sleeper agent or whatever theory you’re cooking up.”

Tony leaned forward. “Okay. So what are you?”

You hesitated just a second too long.

“Someone who ended up here. That’s all,” you said vaguely.

Steve frowned. “That’s not much of an answer.”

“It’s all you’re getting,” you said with a small smile.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “That’s convenient.”

You met his gaze, steady and unwavering. “Not everything has a neat little explanation, Barnes.”

Sam huffed. “Alright, but come on. You know things about us that even we don’t remember. And somehow, your entire existence only started a few years ago? That doesn’t just happen.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I’m just really good at research.”

Peter threw his hands up. “How do you know about my chemistry grade, Y/N? That was never in an interview.”

You winced. “Uh. Lucky guess?”

Peter groaned, flopping back onto the couch.

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. “Okay, this is going nowhere. Let’s try something simpler. Where are you from?”

You smiled. “Around.”

“What does that mean?”

You waved a hand vaguely. “You know. Here. There. Places.”

Clint blinked. “That was the most non-answer I’ve ever heard.”

Natasha studied you carefully. “You’re dodging.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

Rhodey crossed his arms. “Yes.”

Bucky’s expression was unreadable. “Why?”

You hesitated again, but this time, the teasing edge in your voice faded.

“Because some things are better left alone,” you said simply.

That made them pause.

Steve, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. “Is something dangerous being left alone?”

You gave him a small, unreadable smile. “That depends.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “On what?”

You stood up, stretching. “On whether or not you keep pushing.”

The team exchanged glances, and you could feel their frustration. But instead of saying anything else, you turned toward the door.

“This has been fun,” you said lightly. “But I think I’ll let you all sit with your theories for a while.”

As you walked out, you could still feel their eyes on you.

Let them wonder.

You weren’t ready to tell them the truth.

Not yet.

The mission was supposed to be routine. Infiltrate a rogue facility, gather intel, and leave. But as always, things rarely went as planned for the Avengers.

The team had infiltrated an abandoned underground base—once a hub for secretive, high-risk research—and were making their way through the dimly lit corridors. As they explored, they encountered traces of activity from a shadowy organization, one that had somehow stayed off the radar for years. They were cautious, knowing that any wrong step could lead to a trap.

It wasn’t until they reached the final room, a small storage unit with reinforced walls, that things took a turn.

Clint, always the first to find hidden entrances, spotted a small panel in the corner of the room. “This doesn’t look right,” he muttered, prying open a hidden compartment. Inside, he found a sealed metal case. His fingers worked quickly, revealing the contents: a series of files, all stamped with a logo none of them recognized.

“What is this?” Natasha asked, moving closer to inspect the strange documents.

Tony, who had been scanning the room with his tech, raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a symbol I’ve seen before.”

Sam frowned. “It looks like an old agency logo, but… different.”

Peter, bouncing on his heels, leaned in. “What’s in the files?”

Clint flipped open the top folder, revealing a thick stack of documents. As he skimmed through them, his expression shifted from confusion to something darker.

“This…” Clint began, his voice faltering. “This isn’t just some random intel. This looks like… it’s about someone specific.”

The team crowded around him as he read the file aloud, piecing together fragments of unsettling information. The documents were explicit, detailing a history that had been erased. A woman, born into an unknown organization, raised and trained from an early age to be a weapon—one whose past had been wiped clean, just like the empty pages between the lines of the document.

The files didn’t just mention the woman. They spoke about her—about you.

“Y/N,” Tony muttered, recognizing the name in a line of blacked-out text. “This is… Y/N.”

The Avengers froze.

They had been following the trail for hours, never expecting it to lead them back to you. The file detailed your transformation: your entire life had been shaped, manipulated, and erased by an unknown organization, one that had molded you into something—someone—else.

Clint’s hands shook as he turned the pages. “This is… insane. She was trained to be an agent. A soldier. There’s nothing in here about a normal life—nothing that says she was ever her own person.”

Rhodey stepped closer, his voice careful. “Wait. So… she was never just… Y/N?”

The room felt like it was closing in. The realization hit them all at once, as if they were looking at you through a whole new lens. But it was too much—too much to process all at once.

Steve’s voice was low, hesitant. “Is this true?”

Bucky’s gaze was locked on the document, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. “What is this?”

Clint spoke, “I thought she was a fan girl… but this is next level, trained to be a weapon since birth,” Natasha crossed her arms, looking at Bucky with a knowing glance. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t.

“Well, at least this explains why she didn’t tell us— I mean, I wouldn’t want to say anything if I was her.” Peter said, staring at the details of the files. “Kid, not now.” Tony removed the folder from Peters hand.

“So, what do we do?” Clint asked. “Have a very uncomfortable conversation with her.” Tony replied glancing at the documents in his hand. It was a stark contrast to how you acted, detailing a cold and calculated killer.

The Avengers tried to act like everything was normal after the discovery. But the silence that settled over the team was anything but. They knew too much now, things they hadn’t expected to learn, things they hadn’t been prepared for. And the more they sat with the knowledge, the more they felt the weight of it press down on them.

But none of them dared to confront you—not yet.

You, on the other hand, acted as though nothing had changed. You slipped in and out of missions, training sessions, casual team interactions, with the same professionalism. It was like nothing ever happened.

Still, they couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you had shifted, something far colder than before. It was as if you knew what they did. And the subtle tension between you and the team grew.

It wasn’t until a few days later, after another mission, when the team couldn’t take it anymore. They had to know the truth—the full truth.

They gathered in the conference room, all of them sitting in a tense silence. Clint, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Tony, Rhodey, and Bucky. All of them aware of what they’d discovered but uncertain of how to confront you.

Finally, Steve spoke, his voice steady but heavy. “We can’t keep avoiding this.”

Bucky, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, nodded, his expression unreadable. “She deserves to know we know. Maybe she’ll explain.”

Tony rubbed his temples, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t think that is going to be a fun conversation.”

“We have to at least give her the chance to tell us herself,” Sam said. “Otherwise, we’re just letting her keep running from it.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted to Steve. “But if she doesn’t want to talk, do we force it out of her?”

When you entered, the room fell into a heavy stillness. You were as calm as ever, but there was something different about you—something colder. The team had no idea how much they’d stirred up by digging into your past, but they were about to find out.

Steve stepped forward first, his voice steady but strained. “Y/N, we need to talk about your past. About what we found.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in a defensive posture. “Found? You mean you went digging into my life? Into my past, without my consent?” Your voice was icy, and the anger in it barely contained. “You had no right to do that.”

Tony frowned, his arms crossed as he tried to defuse the situation. “We had to know. We were just trying to understand who you really are. The files—”

“The files were mine to keep, not yours!” you snapped, stepping forward, your voice rising. “What gives you the right to dig into my life? My history? You knew nothing about me, and you took it upon yourselves to expose everything I’ve worked so hard to bury. You had no right to do that!”

The room was silent, but your words hung in the air, sharper than any of them expected.

“You didn’t need to hide this from us, we would have understood. We know that your past made you, but you’re not that person anymore.” Natasha said, her voice firm.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Made me? Funny, coming from someone who was trained to be a killer for the Red Room, a place that stole your childhood, your humanity. What’s the difference between you and me?” You sneered.

The question echoed in the room, each member of the team taken aback. Natasha’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. You’d hit a nerve, and they all knew it.

“You were raised in a place where you were taught to kill, trained to be a weapon, and so was I,” you continued, stepping a little closer. “You don’t get to stand there, telling me about running from my past. We’re all just the same, aren’t we? Bucky was turned into the Winter Soldier. He was a weapon too.”

The room grew even quieter, your words hanging in the air. Everyone’s attention turned to Bucky, who stood frozen, his eyes locked on you.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Steve’s voice cut through the tension. “Y/N, we’re trying to understand. Trying to help you.”

“Help me?” you scoffed, voice cold. “You can’t help me. I don’t need help.” Your gaze swept across the room, meeting each of their eyes.

There was no trace of emotion on your face—only cold detachment. But beneath that calm, your words were cutting, and the team could feel the truth in them.

“I wasn’t the only one who went through this. I’m not the only one who’s been broken and remade. So don’t stand there judging me. We’re all just pieces of the same messed-up puzzle.”

You took a slow breath, finally looking away. “You all think you’re so different. So much better than the people who trained us, but you were all part of the same system. You were all made into what you are by others—whether it was the Red Room, Hydra, or whoever else.”

The silence was deafening. No one knew how to respond, and they realized you were right. In some twisted way, all of them had been shaped by their pasts, made into the people they were today by forces beyond their control.

Bucky’s voice was barely a whisper. “We’re not the same.”

You met his eyes, the icy mask you wore never faltering. “We’re not as different as you think.”

Another pause followed, but this time, the tension wasn’t just about the past—it was about what came next. The team wanted answers, but the answers they were getting weren’t the ones they expected.

“Just remember, none of us are heroes. We’re all just survivors. And maybe that’s the only truth that matters.”

Without another word, you turned and walked toward the door. The last thing you said before leaving the room hung in the air like a sharp, bitter truth.

Days had passed since the confrontation, and the team had gradually adjusted to the new dynamic. They knew they had overstepped, and although they couldn’t undo their actions, they were doing their best to regain your trust. They’d learned to tread carefully, but that didn’t mean things were entirely back to normal. You were different now—your guard higher, your presence colder—but at least you were still part of the team.

However, as the days went on, they started to realize that things weren’t quite the same. There was still a distance between you and them, but it wasn’t as pronounced as it had been immediately after the discovery. You were participating in team activities again, but you still had that quiet air of knowing far more than you let on. And it wasn’t just the usual knowing. You had your own way of pushing boundaries in subtle ways, often asking questions that made the Avengers squirm.

It started innocently enough. You were in the kitchen with Steve, both of you preparing a late-night snack after a long day of training. The conversation had started out casual, but you always had a way of steering things to more personal topics. Steve was focused on the stove, so he didn’t immediately catch the slyness in your voice when you asked, “Steve, do you ever regret not having a normal life? I mean, do you wish you could just be… a regular guy, like everyone else?”

Steve’s hand froze over the pan, his eyes flicking to you with a momentary flash of surprise before he cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “I’ve learned to live with it. Some things are out of your control. But why are you asking?”

“Oh, just curious,” you replied lightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at your lips as you reached for some utensils. “You know, you do so much for everyone. But I bet sometimes you wish you could walk away from all of this, huh?”

Steve paused, his usual warmth replaced by a slight discomfort. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Y/N. I can’t change the past, and I’ve accepted that.”

You didn’t push him further, but the way you looked at him told him that you knew everything about his internal battle with his identity, with his place in the world after being frozen for decades. You didn’t need to say more; the question alone was enough to make him uneasy, knowing that you understood his struggles even without asking for specifics.

Next, it was Tony. You had gotten used to his sarcastic demeanor, but today, you decided to push his buttons, in a very different way.

You found him in his lab, tinkering with some new piece of technology. You leaned against the doorframe, observing quietly before you finally spoke up.

“Tony, do you ever think about what might have happened if you hadn’t built the Iron Man suit? If you’d never become a hero, just stayed in your little world of tech and wealth?” You asked, your voice casual, but your eyes sharp.

Tony looked up from his work, raising an eyebrow. “You asking if I’d still be a billionaire playboy? Probably. But then again, I wouldn’t have met you guys. I’d still be living my easy life, no one to answer to. Probably not the healthiest choice.”

You let the silence hang for a moment, your eyes narrowing in curiosity. “But did you ever feel like you lost yourself in all of this? Do you ever miss just… being Tony Stark, without the responsibilities and the guilt?”

Tony blinked, momentarily taken aback by your directness. “I—yeah, sometimes. But it’s not that simple, Y/N. You can’t un-ring a bell once it’s been rung. I’ve made my choices.”

You knew what he was hiding behind his bravado—the guilt over his role in creating Ultron, the constant struggle to balance being a hero and his own personal demons. But you didn’t push him. You left it at that, the weight of your words lingering in the air, making him shift uncomfortably.

Clint and Sam were in the gym, sparring as usual. You decided to observe them, a quiet presence in the background. You could tell Clint was having a bit of an off day, and it gave you the perfect opportunity to ask one of your signature questions.

“You ever wonder if you missed out on something, Clint?” you asked out of nowhere, your voice carrying through the quiet clinks of weights. “I mean, you’ve been an agent for so long, but if you’d stayed with your family, do you think you would’ve been happy? Just… being a regular guy?”

Clint paused mid-swing, giving you a look that bordered on amused and uncomfortable. “I don’t think that’s something you can just wonder about, Y/N. I made my choice. I chose this life.”

“But is it a choice anymore?” you pressed, tilting your head slightly. “Or is it just the life you know now? I bet it’s hard to even imagine anything else.”

Clint raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. He threw a half-hearted punch your way, which you dodged effortlessly. “You’re getting a little too deep, kid. If you’re here for a sparring session, let’s get to it.”

Sam, who had been standing nearby, chimed in with a playful tone, though his eyes were wary. “Clint’s right. You keep asking people stuff like that, and someone might start thinking you’ve got an agenda.”

You shrugged casually, but there was something calculating in the way you looked at them. “Just trying to understand,” you said, though your tone made it clear you weren’t really searching for answers—just testing their boundaries.

Over time, the Avengers grew used to your probing questions, even as they continued to make them uncomfortable. They were starting to notice the subtle shift in you. While your inquiries still had the sharpness of someone who wanted to uncover hidden things, the intensity seemed to lessen. You were no longer relentlessly pushing for secrets. You were still asking the questions—just not as often, and never as pointed.

They began to feel the weight of your knowledge, though. Every conversation with you was a reminder that you knew everything about them—perhaps more than they even knew about themselves. But your approach had changed. It was like you were testing them now, watching how they reacted rather than forcing them to confront things they weren’t ready to face.

One evening, Natasha approached you while you were alone in the common room, flipping through a book. She sat down beside you, watching you quietly for a while.

“You’ve been a little quieter lately,” she said softly.

You glanced at her, offering a small smile. “I’m giving them space. They’ve learned their lesson.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in her eyes. “And you? Have you?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Natasha agreed, her gaze steady. “But you don’t have to keep pushing people. They care about you, Y/N. You don’t have to test them anymore.”

You looked down at the book in your hands, your fingers tracing the edges. “Maybe. But they need to prove it to themselves, not just to me.”

As the days passed, you found a balance. You still knew everything about the team. You still held the power of knowledge over them, but now, you were less inclined to flaunt it. You didn’t need to prove anything anymore. Instead, you allowed things to flow more naturally, letting the team earn your trust in their own time, while still maintaining your own distance.

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