#unknowningly repeat them

[vampires-official]

official vampire post

I say again: your landlord might be the person in your life who's actually sucking you dry, but if you've ever heard someone say "god I just feel like a leech" then they probably Weren't a landlord, and I think these two divergent paths of vampiric metaphor are equally worth exploring

[wendichester]

Drunk Anon is back again. Might start using this emoji (🍸) to let you know who I am

Apparently, when I get drunk, my face goes full on resting bitch face without me realizing it. My friends swear I give them this intense, soul-piercing stare like I'm silently judging their life choices. Meanwhile, I’m just vibing thinking I look completely normal. It’s gotten to the point where they refuse to tease me because they’re either convinced I’m seconds away from throwing hands or just too intimidated to risk it.

I desperately need this for a drunk!reader drabble with either Dean or Sam, or both. It's up to you who you think fits better for this. Thank you in advance and have fun❤️❤️

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧ vibe check: failed,

summary. you have the most terrifying resting-bitch-face the winchesters have ever seen and they don't know how to deal

pairing. sam + dean winchester x drunk!reader genre. kinda crack

wordcount. 736

notes / warnings. hi again babes!! you can totally go with the 🍸 emoji 😙 // mild language, ridiculously bad communication, protective dean, shitting-his-pants sam, fluffy ending, you're tipsy and unknowningly terrifying

You don't remember when the tequila started tasting like apple juice. But at some point, you blinked and everything was warm and wobbly and vaguely glittery. Which is fine. You're good. You're great. You’re a cool drunk. Chill. Relaxed. Soft girl hours.

So why is Dean looking at you like you just threatened to stab the perfect leather seats of his Baby?

You're slouched on the couch in your motel room, nursing a half-melted cocktail with one leg tucked under the other, swaying slightly to the beat of the old rock song humming from the radio. You’re feeling yourself. A little buzzed, a little cozy. And the Winchesters are here. What could possibly be wrong?

“Dude,” Dean whispers, nudging Sam with his elbow. “She’s doing it again.”

Sam frowns. “Doing what?”

Dean discreetly jerks his chin toward you.

Sam turns. Freezes. “Oh. Shit.”

Because there you are, giving them the most intense, deadpan, soul-excavating stare either of them has ever received. It’s the kind of look a judge gives someone who just pleaded “not guilty” after being caught on seventeen security cameras.

“Do you think she’s mad?” Dean whispers.

“I don’t know,” Sam hisses back. “I haven’t blinked in a full minute. She hasn’t moved.”

You, meanwhile, are sitting there vibing. Thinking about how pretty the motel light looks through your glass. Absolutely no thoughts of murder or judgment—just the vague inner monologue of “I should get fries” playing on repeat.

Dean clears his throat. Carefully. “Hey, sweetheart… uh… everything okay over there?”

You blink once. Slowly. And say nothing.

Dean’s grip tightens on his beer like he’s preparing for impact.

Sam shifts nervously. “You, uh… you feeling alright?”

You tilt your head. Still silent. Still blinking like a lizard on a warm rock.

Dean leans toward Sam. “She hates us right now. I know that look.”

“She looked at me like that once when I forgot her coffee order,” Sam mutters.

“I thought she was gonna knock my teeth out.”

“I still have nightmares about it.”

You finally speak, voice calm and syrupy. “Why are you both whispering like I’m about to snap?”

Sam nearly drops his drink. Dean chokes on his beer.

“What?” you ask, frowning. “I’m just sitting here.”

Dean stares. Sam stares. You blink again.

“Babe,” Dean says slowly, “you are sitting there like you’ve got a hit list and we’re both on it.”

You squint at him. “I am not.”

“You so are,” Sam says, nodding frantically. “You’ve been staring us down for fifteen minutes like we’re on trial for crimes against your whole blood lineage, specifically.”

You stare. Again. They flinch.

Dean raises both hands in surrender. “Okay! Just—tell us what we did.”

“What you—?” You sit up. “Oh my God, I’m just vibing. I didn’t say anything because I was mentally dancing to Fleetwood Mac and thinking about how much I love you two idiots.”

Sam’s mouth opens. Closes. “That’s… not what your face was saying.”

“I thought I looked normal!”

“You looked like a Bond villain about to order someone’s execution,” Dean says flatly.

You stare again, eyes wide in mock-offense. “Do I have a resting bitch face?!”

Both brothers immediately go silent.

You narrow your eyes. “So that’s a yes.”

Dean winces. “It’s more like a… resting powerful woman who scares me in a sexy way face.”

“Dean.”

“Okay, murderous judgmental angel face, that’s the best I’ve got.”

Sam coughs. “You genuinely scared me. I almost texted Cas for backup.”

You throw a couch pillow at him, which lands with a soft thud against his massive chest.

Dean watches it all, then crosses the room, kneels in front of you, and rests his big warm hands on your knees.

“I don’t care how scary your face gets,” he says gently, teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m still gonna kiss it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Even if I glare at you like I’m plotting your demise?”

He grins. “Especially then.”

You melt. Just a little. “Fine. But if you ever flinch again, I will glare on purpose.”

Dean leans in. “Kinky.”

Sam groans into his beer. “I’m leaving. You guys are unwell.”

You’re still drunk. Still kinda glowing. But now you’re curled in Dean’s lap with his arms wrapped around you, face nuzzled into your hair like you’re not terrifying at all.

You hum to yourself, finally speaking the sacred truth: “I told you I was just vibing.”

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[indoraptorgirlwind]

THE FOX AT BASKIN ROBINS

Relationship: Platonical Fuchsbau!Scott Lang & Grimm!female reader

Summary: in an alternate universe where wesen exist, the reader decides to get something at Baskin Robins. Unknowningly to her, the man attending her holds a secret that could change her whole life, and she is revealed to be part of a lineage that can see the true nature of creatures scattered all around the world disguised as humans, not perceived at simple gaze.

You were holding your hands inside your hoodie as you walked through the streets of San Francisco. You've always felt different, a weirdo to everyone, as they would never pay attention to you, often ignoring your trace, but that day... was different.

As you got out from (school/work), you decided to get a treat and search something fresh to eat. Luckily, there was a Baskin Robins near, and you had already got an eye for the mango.

You pushed the door, where that little bell sounded, and you watched as some people was sitting on the tables, while others decided to just take their desserts and eats them in the way, pretty much what you would do after getting your order.

It was weird, to say the least. Today you've been feeling boosted or something. Things around you sounded slightly louder than normal, and you felt somehow stronger, as if you were more keen on your surroundi-

"Welcome to Baskin Robins, would you like to try our Mango Fruit Blast?" The worker snapped you out of your thoughts.

He had a ridiculous pink uniform, and a easygoing nature. His smile looked genuine, perhaps he did like his job.

"Oh uh, what?" You said, brushing your hair behind your ear in embarassment. You were so lost in your thoughts that you totally forgot it was your turn.

"Uhh, welcome to Baskin Robins? What can i do for you?" The man repeated, with an amused smile, did he think it was funny?

"Oh sorry i just... uh, got distracted! Let's see..." You examinated the flavors panel, rushed since you certainly did not want to upset the worker, he was just doing his job after all and you wouldn't make him wait by your mistake.

"Uh, i wanna try the mango fruit blast, yeah!" You said, totally ignoring the panel and just ordering what the worker had suggested you

"Good choice, buddy!" He said with an unexpected charm, and inmediatly took the blender. However, to his surprise, it wasn't working properly, and in many attempts to fix it, he was eventually growing frustrated.

Then something you wouldn't have expected to happen, happened.

In his distress the man's contorted and shifted, with orange fur on his arms. You couldn't see his face since he was turned to the other side, but that didn't stop you from being freaked out.

"Oh man, that's unfortunate, but don't worry, i'll get you one for su-"

He said, still transformed, as he turned to look at you. His face has shifted as well, with the same orange fur, and certain hints of white and black, his ears elongated and his whole appeareance resembling a fox. What in the world was happening?

"y-you... you're a.... Oh my God, please... don't hurt me!" He pleaded, suddenly shifting back to his human appeareance, backing away until he hit the wall

"What in the? What are you! Explain yourself!"

You said with no idea of what more to say, standing against your side of the wall as well. You were confused. A man that was just attending you suddenly turned into a fox monster and now feared you? You should be the one to fear him.

"No! You're a Grimm and you're gonna kill me!"

A what? What was this man saying? Were you going crazy? Was he going crazy? Or were both of you going crazy?

"What in the world is that?" You responded, holding your hands against a table, gripping it to feel safe

"Y-you're telling me you don't know what a Grimm is while being one?" He stopped, his tone of voice softening and becoming calmer

"Should i even know that?" You said, your sarcasm starting to shine through.

The man just looked at the confused people and realized he couldn't keep talking in public with you. With no words, he aproached the workers door, opened it, and hesitantly held his hand for you to follow him.

Confused and still processing the bizarre events, you cautiously followed him into a back room, away from the prying eyes of the Baskin Robins patrons.

"Okay, look, I know this is a lot to take in," the man began, nervously running a hand through his hair. "But you're a Grimm, and I'm a Wesen, specifically a Fuchsbau. We're part of a hidden world, creatures living among humans, and your kind can see our true nature."

Your eyes widened, and you took a step back, trying to make sense of what he just said. Grimm? Wesen? Fuchsbau? It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he continued, earnestly. "But there are things you need to know, and I can help you navigate this new reality."

"But why were you so scared of me?" You asked, running your hands through your face

The man bit his lip, before proceeding.

"Because you guys burned our houses and killed us. You pursuited us mercilessly" he sighed

You blinked, a mix of confusion and guilt settling in. "I never did anything like that. I didn't even know about any of this until a few minutes ago."

He met your gaze, with a glimmer of pain in his eyes. "I know, not all Grimms are the same, but history hasn't been kind to our kind. There's a lot of fear and mistrust on both sides. It's a cycle that's hard to break."

He continued, "You are different, i see now. You, as a Grimm, have the power to exterminate us, but, you also have it to understand us."

As you absorbed the gravity of the situation, a realization dawned on you. "So, what now? What does this mean for me?"

He suddenly offered a small, reassuring smile. "Well, i'll try to help you understand your abilities, and you must promise me you'll use them for good" he then offered a hand "I'm Scott by the way, Scott Lang"

"Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N" you answered, bringing your own hand to him. "Can you do it again?" You said, curious.

Scott just chuckled softly and gave you a warm smile. Your path just began, and you knew it wouldn't be easy, but maybe having him by your side would be a good start.

[captainsimagines]

Kill ‘Em With Kindness - PART ONE

Bucky Barnes x Reader

You had been detected.  You were now on their radar.  You were recruited for one mission only.  You‘re trained and put to the test.  With your background, everyone realizes it was a mistake recruiting a college student who would soon be faced with the thing that drove her to kill in the first place. 

Warnings: violence, mentions of sexual assault

Word Count: 996

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen... I want to ruin you.”

“You’re too late.”

PART ONE

     Your hand wrote as quickly as it could.  The professor switched slides, the sound of sighs emitting throughout the crowded lecture hall.  The professor apologized and proceeded to please her students by switching back to the previous slide.  You rolled your eyes- you had already copied down every word from the next slide.

     You put your pen down and stretched out your hand.  Leaning back in the chair, you studied the backs of the ones in front of you.  With your face blank and emotionless, you chipped at your red nail polish and flicked the paint to your lap.  The guy next to you had been eyeing you since the beginning of class.  He watched you write impossibly fast, copying your notes instead of the professor’s.  He watched you full your red lip between your teeth while in concentration.  He even watched as you picked up your backpack and grabbed a bottle of nail polish remover and more red nail polish.

     You never sat next to the same person twice.  The guy next to you was known- he lived down your hall.  In this class specifically, you were widely known as well.  You were the “chick” who chipped her perfectly done manicure only to re-do it in the middle of class.  So, the guy next to you scoffed and shook his head.

     “You have to do that here?”

     Finishing up the last finger, your left middle finger, you raised it to his face.  His eyes only slightly widened, the gesture obviously unexpected. 

     When the class ended, you dusted the red paint chips to the ground and made for the exit.  With your face still blank and unamused, you made your way through the crowd of college students, taking precaution of your newly polished nails.

     That night you stood in front of your mirror, dressed in your suit, knives safely tucked in any available piece of cloth.  You adjusted your lipstick, flipped your hair to the side, and left your apartment. 

     So, there you were- stabbing a man in the chest after he sexually assaulted a woman you were too late to rescue.  Tears pricked your eyes but you swallowed them, holding the woman upright and helping her walk around the block.

     CRIME NUMBER ONE: MURDER.

     You guided her to the entrance of the E.R. and made sure she got the best care they offered.  After letting her clutch your hand throughout the exam, you left your phone number in her small, curled up fist while she slept.  Before you left, you passed on your very own insurance information so she didn’t have to pay.  No questioned you, the look on your face telling them you were in no mood to explain yourself. 

     CRIME NUMBER TWO: INSURANCE FRAUD. 

     Walking down dark alleys two hours later, you finally rested.  For the first time today, your face moved.  You sighed, leaned against the wall, and drew your fist back.  You collided with the brick  wall and your eyebrows scrunched up further.  You let out a blood-curling scream and punched the wall once more before pushing off the wall and returning to your natural state. 

     For the next few hours, you almost killed three more people.

     Well, he shouldn’t have cat-called.

     Well, she shouldn’t have beat her husband.

     Well, he shouldn’t have stolen that wallet. 

     Now, you were sitting on a roof-top, admiring the view of NYC.

    CRIME NUMBER THREE: ASSAULT.

     CRIME NUMBER FOUR: TRESPASSING.

     Sighing deeply, you made your way down the fire escape and smoothed down your suit.

     “Who gave you that?”

     You whipped your head around and put your fists up in defense.  Red and blue tights: Spider-Man.

     “Who gave you the suit?” he repeated.  He was too engrossed in your little costume so you took that as an opportunity to whip your left leg around and smash your foot on his temple.  He stumbled back but quickly regained his balance. 

     “Oh, you want to play dirty, huh?” Spider-Man chanted.  “Guess you’re up for a fight.”

     You raised your eyebrow at this, stepping closer to him and swaying your hips seductively.

     “U-uh, I thought we were fighting,” he stuttered.  Your lips raised into a smirk and you placed your hand on his chest, burying your face into his neck. 

     “Oh, n-no,” he cleared his throat and tried to push you off, but you resisted.  You lowered your hands to his hips and with that, you pushed him off the thirty-story building. 

     Thinking your job here was done, you dusted off your hands and began to leave. 

     CRIME NUMBER FIVE: UNKNOWNINGLY SEXUALLY HARRASSING A 15 YEAR OLD.

     CRIME NUMBER SIX: ATTEMPTED MURDER.

     The sound of a “rocket” snapped you out of your thoughts.  In a matter of seconds, Spider-Man was safely placed back on the roof by none other than Iron Man himself.  You gulped, your facial features never revealing your confused/scared demeanor that was threatening to show.

     “Now, why would anyone pick a fight with your ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’?”

     Iron Man lifted his mask and stared at you, awaiting an answer.  When you didn’t reply, spandex raised his voice.

     “I had that handled, Mr. Stark.  How did you know I was in somewhat trouble?” he scrambled.

     “Your heart rate was incredibly high, kid.  I was making sure you weren’t about to go into cardiac arrest.”

     You sniggered at that.

    “Yo- I- um, nevermind,” he stuttered once more.

     You took this opportunity to fling yourself off the side of the roof, grabbing clothing lines to make your way down.  However, before you could make a touchdown, your hands were tangled with webs and you fell to the ground beneath you.  You groaned and rolled over, coming face to face with the two superheroes.  You grunted and sat up.

     “They’re going to love you back at the compound.  You don’t mind heights, right?”

     Before you could resist verbally, Iron Man’s mask closed off his identity and he picked you up bridal style.

     “Wrap up her legs as well, Parker.”