Fandom Imagines/Preferences

Hidden Talents

{Same character as a previous Steve one. You used to be an Imp, one of the best called Shadow. Natasha and Clint got you out and you killed the leader as you left.}
{No relationship status, everyone's just friends}

You cursed under your breath as gunfire rained down around you, running in a straight line through a warehouse with no room to move. You felt one, two, three bullets hit you, two in the arm, one in a leg, but you didn't stop. You couldn't.

"Help," you managed to say, lifting a finger to your ear before you spoke, alerting your team of your predicament with the one word.

"Coming!" You faintly heard a voice answer but your brain was too full of adrenaline to recognize it. You ran faster and took a sharp right at an intersection, pausing briefly to catch your breath.

Natasha appeared suddenly beside you and you almost punched her, but she caught your hand. She looked you over really fast and frowned. "What on earth happened to you?"

"We all need to leave now," you panted, eyes wild. "Maelstrom's here."

Natasha gave you an odd look before alerting the team of your statement. Then, as a woman in a stormy grey catsuit and a looped chain turned the corner, Natasha helped you up and together you ran, or, limped out of the warehouse.

The two of you limped onto the plane right as it was about to leave and you pushed Natasha away so you could walk over to where your stuff was, oblivious to your bleeding wounds. Almost frantically, you rummaged through your bag until you found it.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you slumped to the ground and put in one ear bud before starting your music. Your teammates gave you an odd look, thinking you were just listening to a book but you ignored them and started to close your eyes.

"Y/n!" Bruce yelled and your eyes snapped open and you went to stand but a searing pain in your leg stopped you. Gritting your teeth you looked up at the doctor who was frowning down at you. "We need to look at that," he stated firmly, gesturing to the bullet wound. You glanced at it then at him. "Be my guest," you groaned, leaning your head back. You started to close your eyes again but someone slapped your nondamaged leg.

"Don't close your eyes." "Yes, Mom," you muttered in response, gritting your teeth in pain as Bruce began to get the bullet out of your leg. You refused to be given any drugs previously so he hadn't bothered to offer them this time.

You turned your music up and focused on the ringing lyrics, on the beat, on anything that wasn't the heat of pain your whole body was feeling and the numbness in your brain from it all.

*Time Skip*

Bruce refused to let you go on the next mission and for once, much to everyone's surprise, you agreed with him.

The tower was empty except for you and Jarvis so you knew that now was as good of a time as any to enter your locked room.

Tony had given each Avenger a wing in the tower, letting them do whatever they wanted to to it. You had opted for simplicity, the bare minimum, a normality to you and an atrocity to Tony. Not that you really cared. But there was one room that you had decorated, that you had put more than the bare minimum in. And Tony couldn't get into it.

You walked up to the door and rapped lightly on it with one finger, alerting Jarvis to your presence outside of it. "Jarvis, please be a dear and let me in." "Of course, Miss." The door unlocked and you slipped inside, letting the door fall close behind you and leaving you in darkness. Soon, a light turned on and you allowed a small smile to grace your face as you looked around.

The room was filled with instruments. There was a guitar, a harp, a trumpet, trombone, French horn, violin, viola, cello, bass, tuba, clairnet, baritone saxophone, tenor sax, alto sax, soprano sax, bassoon, oboe, baritone, flute, piano, drum kit, any instrument you could think of, it was there. It was your one hidden hobby.