Hack Attack (Avengers+Reader)"Ha! Guess who just got 160.7k on Instagram?" Clint bragged.Londynengland21
"Hmmm... I'm guessing... you?" You asked, looking up at him from your phone. You were currently laying on the couch, your head propped up on Clint 's lap and your feet on Natasha. The rest of the Avengers were all on their phones as well, sitting around in the living room.
"I bet I have more followers than you," Nat smirked, not taking her eyes off of her screen.
"Doubt it," Clint responded, his eyes also glued to his phone.
"Please, I probably have more followers than all of you combined," Tony spoke up cockily, holding
his phone with none other than an iron man case on it.
"Why is it so important to have 'followers'?" Thor asked, confused. He'd didn't understand why social media was such a big deal.
Steve decided to answer, wanting to test his own knowledge on technology. "It's a popularity thing. Basically if you have more followers than another person, you're more popular than them and are 'better'," Steve met your eyes,
The Convention (ThorxReader)“Okay, so this is Comic Con.” Clint explained outside. “In there, you are going to see people dressed like you. Men and women. These are our biggest fans. So no turning them into cats, Loki.”teamfreewillangel
“It was one time.” Loki scoffed.
“Or crushing their skulls with your thighs, Nat.” She rolled her eyes. “Or anything that will make us look like bigger idiots then we are. Got it?” Everyone nodded. “Good, let’s go in.” They made their way into the hall.
“How does Clint know so much about conventions like this?” Steve asked Bruce.
“Because he’s a major geek.” Bruce said casually. Steve thought about it.
“Oh, okay.” Steve said, adjusting his shield on his arm and following them in. Clint had insisted they all go in their costumes so they didn’t stand out.
They were supposed to stay together, but Tony found a beautiful, fully functional Iron Man costume and went his own w
Fate. Steve x Readerpeachkuma
WARNING: One curse word, but I know you lot are not that innocent.
Another ordinary day for (Name) to do laundry. It would be an ordinary day for (Name) to do laundry if she her own washing machine. Alas, she does not have one, rather it was broken the following day she just bought it. Her only way to get clean clothing is to drop by the local laundromat.
She cringed at the thought. That was why she bought a machine in the first place.
It's not like it's the worst place to get your laundry done. The place can be the next bloody battle over the next dryer by just a deadly gaze at each other once that timer ring. Oh, don't get me wrong, only in some days the laundromat seems figuratively deadly.
There was really no bloodbath involve, just in the imagination of (Name) and fellow fidgety washers.
On most days, the place is peaceful. Most of the washers are either their noses buried in their books
Your Call (Steve x Former Sniper!Reader)Wulferious
How did you end up like this? On the roof of a building, screwing your favorite silencer onto your mint-condition sniper rifle. The scope of the rifle seemed to taunt you, daring you to look through it to see your target running by for his daily morning jog.
Something had come over you, like it had in the past. You didn't want to fall for it again, but habit had its persuasive way of getting you back into routine. The worst part was, you were still conscious.
You knew what you had to do.
From your jacket pocket, you pulled out a picture. It was small, a square shape despite the foxed edges of the paper; the red, white and blue colors of the photo made you smile.
The man in the picture was a friend of yours. Or, at least, he was at one point. But now, he wasn't. He was your enemy.
He was the man you were supposed to plant a bullet in. You stared at the picture, the smile leaving your face, a frown replacing it. You knew you had time before the man left to run, and so you took that
Similarity (Bucky X Reader) one-shotWarning/ Spoiler Alert! This story mentions violence, torture, and rape. Don't like it don't read it.popofcolor123
"I had a meltdown again."
"What do you think triggered it this time? What happened?"
You laughed and lifted your bandaged hand. "I was just curling (Or straightening) my hair, as usual, when I accidentally picked up the iron by the wrong end. I guess I wasn't paying attention. . . Anyway. . . Just as soon as I picked it up I dropped it, yelling at the pain."
"Why were you distracted? What was on your mind?"
You shrugged. "The real question is, what wasn't on my mind?" Knowing that wasn't a sufficient answer you sighed and kept talking. "I was thinking about it again. . . The mission. I know I shouldn't be, but I was. It just kind of creeps up on me when I'm least expecting it. When I wake up in the morning or before I go to sleep. Sometimes when I'm in the grocery store deciding what laundry detergent to choose or when I'm at the nail salon getting french tips. I can't help it.