#Brother!Reader

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Keeping Quiet (Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Sherlock & Mycroft X Deaf!Brother!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Severe bullying, injuries, turf burn, mention of violence

Request: Hi, can I request?, a Holmes brother fic, where reader is their youngest brother who is in high school/university getting bullied bc their disability(mute/deaf) and how their deal with that situation, I kinda want reader to be a ball of sunshine who always smile but are sad inside and although they can see through his smile, they struggle to find a way to help them. 🥺

Your life from the get go has always been a little harder than other kids your age. For one, you were the youngest Holmes, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, though when you were born your eldest brother had already graduated university, and your other brother was a teenager not far from leaving school. With their own unique personalities, they struggled to connect you immediately, and you didn’t see them much as a young child. However, since starting Secondary school, they had become a bit more involved, especially since you had moved in with your eldest brother so you could attend a good school that was closer to him, however, you were still mostly by yourself, especially since how work driven both your brother’s were. Oh yeah, and the other thing that made your life a little harder- you were deaf. 

A silent world was all you had known since birth, and because of that, you didn’t have to adjust to any change, instead you just learned to do things differently, like when trying to cross a road on a corner, you’d look at those around you to see if they were going to cross, knowing that if the road was clear and they didn’t move, they could hear a car coming. You never had speech therapy growing up, and since when growing up your parents and brothers always communicated with you with sign language, you never used your voice. To you, your hands were your voice, and the thing in your throat that let you make noises was only for dire emergencies to get immediate attention. 

Right now, you were convinced this wasn’t an emergency, but you had the overwhelming urge to just scream as hard as you can. You wanted so badly to be heard, but feared backlash, either from your peers of your issues being perceived as fake or not nowhere near as bad as you felt they were, or backlash from the people who were making you feel like this. 

You’d just gotten home from school, and you entered as quietly as you could, closing the door briskly and looking around, not sure if Mycroft was home, and you didn’t want to see him right now. You closed the front door, looking at the empty coat hook where you’d usually place your coat, except you didn’t have it with you, so instead you just kicked off your shoes and tried to head to your bedroom with your school bag. However, for obvious reasons, you hadn’t heard Mycroft and Sherlock bickering in the other room, or that they had promptly stopped when the front door shut loudly from how quickly you had shut, followed by your footsteps through the house at an accelerated rate to your bedroom, and the noise of your door being shut just as quickly as the front door. The two brothers stood in silence, staring in the direction of the noises before turning to face each other. “Something’s wrong.” Sherlock spoke up. 

“I’m aware of that.” Mycroft scoffed, before they began to walk to go up the stairs. Sherlock stopped at the bottom though, though Mycroft continued up. Sherlock checked the entrance of the house, noticing your lack of coat, either meaning you were still wearing it or didn’t have it, and the droplets of water on the floor, as well as your school shoes being shiny and darker than usual, told him it was the latter. It hadn’t rained in the last hour. He finally followed after Myrcoft, who was already trying your door, though it was locked. He turned to Sherlock, and Sherlock’s eyes followed the wet droplet stains in the carpet to your door. “He’s locked himself inside.” Mycroft pointed out.

“Give me your credit card.” Sherlock demanded. Mycroft went into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet and going through it to hand him a card, before Sherlock shoved him out of the way, sliding the card through the door, pushing the lock out, and when it clicked open, he turned the handle opened the door enough to stick his hand in, reaching for the light switch, flicking the lights on and off in your room to get your attention. He didn’t get a reaction from you. No multiple knocks to signify he could enter, and not a singular knock for him not to come in. He waited another moment, before looking at Mycroft who at this point looked worried, fist pressed to his mouth. Sherlock opened the door further.

They didn’t see you when they first stepped into the room, but Sherlock noticed your school bag- wet through, soaking the carpet, dirty, the zip busted, a strap broken, several school books looking ready to fall out after being crammed in that were soggy and ruined. With that, he knew where you were- the small bathroom attached to your room. He walked to the shut door, trying the door, finding this one unlocked, and he slowly stepped in, looking down and to the side, seeing you sat on the floor, legs pulled to your chest, head resting on your knees. 

“Mycroft, go make tea.” Sherlock said monotone, not taking his eyes away from you. Mcroft, who had noticed your bag and was trying to find anything to salvage, stood up straight, processing the situation, before turning and leaving the room. Sherlock slowly entered the bathroom, kneeling down before sitting on the floor beside you, carefully reaching out, lightly tugging on your soaked and dirty school jumper to get your attention. You peeked up, making eye contact, your eyes red and as wet as your uniform. Sherlock didn’t need to ask what happened, and you didn’t need him going on a revenge campaign in your honour, at least not yet. Instead, he signed ‘I’ll run you a hot bath, and you get undressed. Are you hurt?” You sniffed, signing a yes, before you started to take off your jumper, pulling it over your head, and Sherlock’s eyes immediately took notice of the wet white material that had stains of red on your arms, and as he looked closer, he saw your hands, and presumably your forearms as well were scraped up and red raw. Sherlock took your jumper from you, standing up, before signing to you again. “Drop them just outside the door when you’re done.” He said, turning to the bath, plugging the drain, and turning on the taps, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Mycroft arrived shortly after with a tray, cup of tea and snacks as well, placing it on your bedside table. “What happened?” Mycroft asked. 

“He’s been bullied. I’m not sure what happened, maybe he tried to bring up what was happening or tried to stand up for himself, but it escalated outside of school- his uniform needs to be cleaned and died- where’s your first aid, he’s scraped up as well.” Sherlock listed. Mycroft’s mouth open and closed repeatedly, before he spoke. 

“I-I didn’t know.” He stuttered. “He never… he never told me he was having issues at school. I had no idea.” He explained, and Sherlock frowned. 

“I didn’t know either.” Sherlock added. It wasn’t a lot to say, but it made Mycroft feel so much better. If Sherlock didn’t notice something was wrong until now, then there was practically no way for Mycroft to see either. You hid it, and you hid it well. You hid it from the best. 

“I’ll call the school administration and organise a meeting with them. I’ll find out who did this.” Mycroft decided, reaching out and taking the jumper from Sherlock. “I’ll also get the first aid” he commented, turning and leaving the room again. Sherlock stood in your room, not moving, and he waited until he heard the bath water turn off, the door open, your clothes hit the floor and the door shut again before he turned and went and grabbed the clothes, taking them to be washed with your jumper. Sherlock heard Mycroft on the other side of the house, yelling on the phone about repercussions, demanding a meeting tomorrow, even if it’s the weekend, before his voice became louder, him walking into the same room with Sherlock, wordlessly giving him the first aid before leaving again to continue his argument, and Sherlock headed back upstairs to your room. 

He peeked into your room, seeing you had gotten out, dried off and dressed into your pyjamas, sitting on the edge of your bed. He flashed the lights again to get your attention before stepping in, coming and sitting down on your bedside, carefully taking your hands, rolling up the sleeves to properly see the scrapes and turf burn, which made him wince, imagining the pain in the bath, even though you didn’t make a peep. You didn’t make sound despite the pain, and that really, really bothered him. He wordlessly cleaned them and bandaged them, before signing to you “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You nodded, crawling deeper into the bed so your legs were rested on it, and Sherlock pulled your pant legs up to your knees, seeing even more turf burns, and he copied what he did with your hands, pulling the legs back down when he was done, before he pushed the medical equipment away from him, and waited in front of you till you looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He signed to you, speaking the words along with it. All he got was a shrug, which Sherlock was not going to accept. “Did they threaten you?” He added. You looked away, before finally signing. 

“It wasn’t too bad. I could handle it, I didn’t want to worry you. But I think someone else reported what they saw and they thought it was me.” You explained to him. 

“So if it wasn’t reported, you hadn’t planned to tell us?” Sherlock questioned. 

“It wasn’t a big deal.” You signed, clearly frustrated, which was paralleled by Sherlock. 

“Well it is now. We’re your brothers, your family. If something bothers you, you tell us, even if you’re annoyed at the way light reflects through a window, or how they’ve changed the packaging on a product in the shops, you tell us. Even if you think it’s harmless or not a big deal, we’d rather you told us about little things instead of hiding things until they become huge things. This is huge now, and we’re going to deal with it.” His signing firm and almost exaggerated. You’d never seen someone yell via sign language, yet here Sherlock was, somehow finding a way to do it, and it was pretty effective. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You quickly apologised to try and calm him down, which seemed to work. 

“How long has this been going on? How many of them are there, and what are their names? Tell me everything.” 

A few minutes later, Mycroft finally got off the phone, pacing for a minute to plan his next actions- deciding if he needed to call someone else, or go and check on you, but then Sherlock came into the room, and handed him a piece of paper, with names, examples of what each person did and their role in the attack, and how long it had been going on with a short timeline of other incidents. “I trust this is enough to start with?” Sherlock asked, watching as Mycroft skimmed over it. 

“This has been going on since he started secondary school?” Mycroft questioned, Sherlock briskly nodded, before tapping the paper to make him focus again. “Yes. This is enough. I’ll locate their parents and addresses, gather more information, I’ll have people look into CCTV to see if we can catch any footage of them following, chasing or… attacking him.” Mycroft explained, folding the paper up, before tucking it into his pocket. “How is he?” 

“He’s going to be sore for a while, keep an eye on his injuries- maybe take him to the doctor just to have it on record. He’s not very talkative at the moment, but we really need to get him to start talking to us more about things happening to him. If he’s ever quiet around you, try and engage him and ask about what he’s thinking about, get him out of the habit of keeping everything locked up. Leave the addresses to me. I’ll personally make sure they get the letters about the police investigation when you have it ready.” Sherlock said, walking to the entrance of the house, Mycroft followed him, watching his younger brother grab his coat, swing it around him and put it on. 

“Sherlock, do not threaten them- it’ll not be good for the investigation.” 

“I have no intention of threatening children, Mycroft. But I will make sure the point is put across that those parents have done an awful job and that they shouldn’t have messed with Y/N.” Sherlock promised, before promptly leaving. Mycroft huffed after the door shut, glancing up the stairs, before deciding to make a fresh hot drink for you to get started with a conversation with you.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter@keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[reveseke]

Jack & bro!Reader finding a stray cat in mild condition and bringing it home to nurse back to health and feed it. Later on when they let it out again because Hotch did not in fact want a cat, only to himself walk to the apartment building and see the same cat with her kittens. :D

[supernaturalscribe67]

In Plain Sight

Words: 6,968

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, fear of rejection, brothers keeping secrets, Dean being a teasing asshole as always, Supportive family, The Reader's boyfriend is a total himbo

Summary: The reader has been keeping a secret from his brothers his entire life. The reader is gay, and it was something that he had always kept from Sam and Dean in fear of their reaction. What happens when Sam and Dean stumble upon a moment between the reader and his boyfriend? How will they react?

Request:

Hi! Don’t know if your doing requests or not, BUT if you are can you do one where Dean and Sam have an Older brother who is gay and has a boyfriend but hides it because he doesn’t think that Sam and Dean would approve that he like guys and has a boyfriend, and one night where Sam and Dean go out on a hunt and their supposed to be gone for a week but come back early and find their older brother with his boyfriend passed out on the couch with a movie playing

@hpxmcusworld

A/N: Words cannot even begin to describe how sorry I am for taking over a month to get this out. So much has been going on in my life, specifically at work. I could write a twelve-book series about all the drama that has been going on at work. You guys can't even BEGIN to imagine, especially everything that has been happening in the last week. I mean, it's baffling. Regardless, here's the story, finally! I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this!

~ Much love!

(Y/N) laid on the couch in the Men of Letters bunker. A blanket was draped over his body loosely, and the corner of the fabric lay limply on the floor. A box of Kleenex sat on the floor next to the sofa, crumpled-up tissues tossed here and there in a small waste bin placed next to (Y/N)’s head. There was some cheesy medical drama show playing in the background on the television that he was barely paying attention to. 

As the show went to commercial break, the sound of a pair of footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching the open door. (Y/N) glanced up as Sam and Dean appeared in the doorway, their duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Dean peered in and eyed him. 

“Hey, man, how’re you feeling?” He asked. 

(Y/N) cleared his throat and brought the blanket further up his body, placing it directly under his chin. “Still feel kinda shitty,” he replied, his voice low and scratchy. 

“That sucks,” Dean shook his head. “I’m surprised Sammy and I haven’t got anything from you, yet,” 

“Honestly, me too,” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with staying here while we go on the hunt?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah, it’s a simple salt ‘n burn. At least that’s what Garth says. You guys will be alright.” 

They both nodded. “Well, we’ll call you when we get there.” Dean gave a brief wave.

(Y/N) smiled softly. “Alright, see you guys later,” he waved at them. 

“See ya’.” They spoke in unison as they walked out of the room. 

(Y/N) turned his head back to the television, but didn’t listen to the line delivery. Rather, he listened to their steps. He listened as they slowly faded in the distance, followed by the heavy sound of the bunker door opening and closing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiety and anticipation. Even with how far he was from the garage, he could still hear the roar of the Impala’s engine. He waited as it gradually softened before disappearing from the vicinity. 

When all he could hear was the sound from the medical drama, he broke out into a smile and threw the blanket off of his body, sitting up quicker than he ever had before. He rapidly took out his phone from his pocket and went to his contact list. He dialed the number marked Quinn (Hunter/Cincinnati) and called. 

Quinn was a fellow hunter that he, Sam, and Dean had met when they were on the road a little over two years ago after they got wind of a Wendigo in Ohio. What started as a typical hunting partnership turned into a celebration at the bar, which later turned into a night of (Y/N) and Quinn sharing the same bed. Since then, the two of them would text and call each other, asking each other for advice on hunts, getting to know one another, and, on occasion, scheduling a time and place for them to meet up if they were close enough. It was evident months after the two of them began communicating that they started to develop feelings. It wasn’t just casual sex to let out pent-up frustration, there were emotions behind the act, and both of them knew it. Quinn was the one who spoke up first. When prompted with the idea of making their relationship official, (Y/N) was hesitant, but he couldn’t deny the feeling that welled deep inside of him and accepted. Under one condition;

Sam and Dean couldn’t know. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brothers, or feared they wouldn’t like Quinn. Quite the contrary, he knew they would like him. Quinn’s personality was the perfect mixture of Sam and Dean. A badass flirt with the heart of a big nerd. He would fit right into their group. But there was one big secret that he had been keeping from his brothers his entire life, and he wasn’t yet prepared to make it public. 

Sam and Dean didn’t know he was gay. 

True, he never outwardly told them he was straight, but he also never attempted to flirt with anyone at the bar in front of them. Whenever they would question him about it (more specifically Dean), he would always brush him off and tell him how tired he was after the hunt. He never lied to them. He was always tired after hunts. Yet he knew, deep down, that wasn’t the only reason why. He would trick himself into thinking he didn’t know the reason behind his hesitancy, but he knew. 

He couldn’t blame it on any event in particular, but he understood that his upbringing had a lot to do with his reluctance. With the lack of acceptance he saw from his father on a variety of topics and how influential their father was on Sam and Dean’s views - despite what Sam would say - he was anxious about the way his brothers would react if he came out to them. The worst-case scenario always popped into mind when he considered coming out to them. The idea that they wouldn’t accept him, that they would turn their backs on him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He would rather keep himself closeted for the rest of his life than risk it. 

That was why he decided to feign his illness to spend quality time with his boyfriend. He planned to have Quinn spend a couple of days with him, going out with him on different dates, and doing various activities together, and, the day before Sam and Dean would get back, Quinn would head out and be back on the road while (Y/N) would go back to pretending he was in recovery. It was a foolproof plan. 

He was sure of it.

 

*~*

Quinn arrived three hours after Sam and Dean had left. (Y/N) was quick to open the bunker door as soon as the knocking echoed throughout the halls. Quinn had a bright smile on his face. Clad in a loose-fitting plaid shirt, jeans, and combat boots, Quinn stood a couple of inches taller than (Y/N). His black hair was slicked back neatly, just like it was on their first official date, and his beard appeared to have been trimmed recently. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Quinn greeted in his heavy Midwestern accent. 

“Hey, glad you made it,” (Y/N) reached a hand up and cupped his cheek gently. 

Quinn pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “Had to drive around once or twice because I couldn’t find that little makeshift driveway y’all made, but other than that…” Quinn wrapped his arms around his waist. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s supposed to be hidden.”

Quinn smirked. “And you did a damn good job hiding it,” He mumbled before he leaned down, connecting their lips. 

(Y/N) chuckled into the kiss, his eyes closing. His heart never failed to flutter every time Quinn kissed him. In a sense, (Y/N) felt the same as he did when he was in high school and had a crush on a boy in his class. Whenever Quinn was near him, holding his hand, and kissing him, he could feel the swarm of butterflies flying around in his gut. It was refreshing to his aging mind to feel as young as he did when he was around his boyfriend. 

Quinn was the first to pull away, the smile never leaving his lips as he stared lovingly into (Y/N)’s eyes. He pressed their foreheads together. “So, it’s just gonna be us?” 

“Just us for the whole week.” 

Quinn hummed and kissed his cheek before he stood up straight. “Why don’t you show me around then? I’ve heard some stories about the Men of Letters here and there, but nothing much. I’m kind of excited to see what they have hidden down here.” Quinn stepped past the threshold and into the bunker. 

“God, you sound just like my brother.” (Y/N) mumbled as he shut the door. “Always excited to research everything you find interesting.” 

“Sounds like someone I’d get along with then. I’d love to meet him again someday.” Quinn hinted with a raised brow. 

“Yeah…some day.” 

(Y/N) gestured toward the stairs and began to walk down, Quinn a couple of steps behind him. 

“So, you haven’t told them yet.” It was phrased more like a statement than a question. “I thought you would have told them by now.” 

(Y/N) sighed as he got to the bottom of the stairs and turned back toward Quinn. “I was going to tell them…at some point. It just…never came up.” 

“And, what, this wasn’t a time when it could have been brought up?” 

“You know how I feel about telling them, Quinn.” 

“I know, darlin’, I know. But we’ve been together for almost two years now. It was fun sneaking around in the beginning, but…” Quinn trailed. “(Y/N), I love you, and I see myself wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it will be, but I don’t want it to be in secret.” Quinn slowly took a couple of steps towards (Y/N) and grasped his hands in his. “I want you to be proud of our relationship,” 

“I am proud of us,” 

“Proud enough to tell your brothers?” 

(Y/N) opened his mouth to reply, but he found it nearly impossible to lie to him. He wanted to say that he was confident enough to tell Sam and Dean. Confident enough to finally tell them what he had been hiding from them for years. Yet there was still that voice in the back of his head convincing him otherwise. 

Quinn sighed after (Y/N) failed to answer. “Tell you what? We can talk about it before I leave, okay? How about we use this time to enjoy ourselves?” 

(Y/N) glanced down at their hands for a moment. “You won’t be upset if we don’t talk about it right now?” 

“No, sweetheart, I won’t. I promise,” he smiled. “I love you too much to stay mad at you for long.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. 

Quinn chuckled. “Now, why don’t you show me around?”

 

*~*

After giving a brief tour of the bunker, accompanied by some oohs and awes from Quinn, (Y/N) helped him get set up in their shared bedroom. It was exciting. Even though Quinn was only staying for a couple of days, it would be the longest that the two of them had spent together consecutively, and that meant the world to (Y/N). He considered it his first taste of normalcy. A view of the ‘apple pie life’ as his brother called it. 

Some would argue that the discovery of the bunker should be considered his first experience with a normal life. He permanently had a roof over his head, a place to call home. But it’s difficult to consider the bunker a ‘home’ in terms of ‘normal’ when his job was hunting. He was surrounded by his job, day in and day out, haunted by the spirits of the men who hunted before him. No, home to him was a two-story colonial, painted blue, with a white picket fence surrounding the front and back yards. Sure, the bunker was safe, and kept the dangers away while they had a chance to relax, but it wasn’t a home. It never felt like a home, not truly. At least, (Y/N) didn’t think that’s what a home should feel like. 

Regardless, he had a feeling that, with Quinn by his side for the week, he would get a small glimpse into the reality he could have. A reality where hunting wasn’t a part of his life, where he wasn’t put in harm's way on a day-to-day basis with minimal pay - if you considered credit card fraud and hustling a paycheck. And the mere idea of experiencing such a life, even for a brief moment, sent a level of excitement through him and made him more anxious about the days to come. 

For most of the day, Quinn explored the bunker, asking questions about various artifacts placed on display and getting less-than-satisfactory answers from his partner. His main level of interest was focused on the library, and the variety of research material scattered around the aged shelves. (Y/N) thought it was cute how excited he was, and he didn’t mind that his boyfriend’s attention was mainly attached to the bunker and not him. He had Quinn with him for a whole week, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself just by being in the same room as him. 

They cooked dinner together that night, a basic pasta recipe one of them found online. Something was satisfying and romantic about the entire experience. In a way, they felt like newlyweds, having their first dinner in the very first house they bought together. It truly was as if they were staring through a lens at a reality they could have, and it was peaceful. 

After dinner, the two of them sat in the living room - Dean’s ‘Man Cave’ as he likes to call it - with a movie cued up on the television, blankets covering their bodies, and pillows behind their backs for support. Quinn leaned back against the couch, one leg elevated on the rest of the couch, and one arm wrapped around (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N)’s head rested on Quinn’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around his back, as they watched the movie. A bowl of popcorn sat on Quinn’s lap and the two of them snacked on it occasionally. 

Well, more than occasionally. 

Quinn reached his hand into the bowl but stopped when his fingertips scraped along the buttery plastic bottom. He looked down and noticed the bowl was empty. The movie was only a quarter of the way over, and he knew that the two of them would need more snacks if they were going to make it the rest of the way. 

“Hey, go ahead and pause it. I’m going to go get us some more popcorn.” Quinn gestured towards the TV. 

(Y/N) sat up, grabbed the remote, and paused the movie. Quinn grunted as he stood up and stretched his back. A faint pop could be heard. Quinn let out a satisfied sigh as he looked down at his boyfriend. 

“Do you want anything? Snacks or a drink?” 

(Y/N) hummed. “I put some M&Ms on the top shelf in the glass cabinet. If you wouldn’t mind getting those, that would be great.” 

Quinn furrowed his brows. “The glass cabinet? Why the hell did you put them there?” 

“Trust me, if you know Dean Winchester, that man can snack,” (Y/N) rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I tried hiding my snacks everywhere in my room, but he always managed to find them. I’m waiting for him to find this stash.” 

Quinn chuckled. “Okay, now I know I’ll get along with your brothers.” He turned and began to walk out of the room. 

(Y/N) narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “If you tell Dean about my stash, I’ll kill you.” 

Quinn pushed his bottom lip out, held up his free hand in surrender, and wordlessly walked out of the room. 

When Quinn left, (Y/N) let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Even when he wasn’t in the room, knowing his boyfriend was in the same building as him made his heart flutter. A smile spread across his lips as he lowered himself onto the couch, lying on his side where Quinn had been sitting. He pulled the blanket closer to his body and let out a surprising giggle. A part of him felt pathetic for acting as such, but the other part adored it. Loved the way that Quinn made him feel. It only made the connection between them stronger, and that made (Y/N) look forward to their time together even more. 

It didn’t take long for Quinn to return, the scent of fresh popcorn wafting into the living room. Quinn stopped as he passed through the door. He stared at (Y/N) for a moment before he walked in front of the couch. He held the bowl of popcorn in one hand and (Y/N)’s M&Ms in the other. He gestured down at him. 

“I was sitting there,” he smirked. 

(Y/N) raised a brow and glanced down at the couch. “Oh, were you?” He questioned, his smirk placed on his face as he snuggled deeper into the cushion. 

Quinn deadpanned, head tilted to the side. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, he silently nodded, set the bowl of popcorn and package of M&Ms on the ground next to the couch, and began to climb on top of (Y/N). 

“What are you doing!?” (Y/N) exclaimed with an amused, yet startled tone. 

“Laying down,” Quinn couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face. 

Quinn laid down on (Y/N), blanketing his body with his. (Y/N) groaned. 

“You’re so heavy!” He whined. 

Quinn laughed. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of (Y/N)’s neck and adjusted himself on top of him. “But you’re so comfy,” 

(Y/N) let out a sigh and looked down at Quinn with raised brows. Quinn glanced up at him and gave him a bright, white smile. (Y/N) smirked. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said as he reached his hand up and began to rake his fingers through Quinn’s soft hair. 

“I know,” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, here,” he mumbled as he shifted under Quinn’s weight. He adjusted himself so his legs were placed on either side of Quinn’s body, and Quinn was lying comfortably across (Y/N)’s chest and stomach. (Y/N) let out a breath of relief. “There, better. Now you’re not so heavy,” he teased.

Quinn glared at him and stuck his tongue out. He then laid his head on his chest gently, eyes cast towards the television. (Y/N) chuckled, his chest rumbling. He reached down, grabbed the remote, and, before he pressed ‘play’, pressed a kiss to Quinn’s temple. 

“I love you,” he spoke softly. 

Quinn glanced up at him, as if studying him, for a brief moment before a smile crept across his lips. “I love you, too, baby,” 

*~*

The hunt was a bust. What started as a potential salt and burn turned out to be some ghost-hunting TV personality wannabe who wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. The whole thing was a hoax. A waste of time, and a waste of gas. Dean wasn’t too happy about it, but a part of him was glad that he was able to get back to his bed sooner, rather than have his back stabbed by some cheap boxspring. His memory foam mattress sure had him spoiled. Sam, on the other hand, was excited to get back to the bunker to check in on their brother. They hadn’t called him since they left, and he was anxious to see if he was feeling any better. Granted, he didn’t know how well someone could feel in less than twenty-four hours, but he hoped that he would feel even slightly like his normal self. 

He had been sick for over a week, after all. 

They pulled into the bunker around four in the morning, no doubt thinking the rumbling of the Impala’s engine would wake their brother. Even in the deepest parts of the bunker, it was nearly impossible to miss the sound of the Impala approaching, and Dean thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. 

“I’m going to have Garth pay me back for all that gas I just wasted,” Dean grumbled as he climbed out of the Impala. 

“Don’t,” Sam mumbled. “He didn’t know the hunt was going to be bogus.” 

“The article was a week old, Sam, you said so yourself. You would think that he would do a bit more digging before sending us on a wild goose chase,” Dean opened up the trunk and grabbed his duffel bag. 

“Dean,” 

“And another thing! Do you know how many times I had to stop and get gas?” 

Sam sighed, his movements sluggish, showing his evident exhaustion. “Yes, Dean, I know, I was there. Remember?” 

“Twice! Garth owes me a hundred and twenty bucks for having to fill up that much because he didn’t give a shit enough to look more into the hunt.” 

Sam reached a hand up and ran his thumb and forefinger against his heavy eyelids. “Dean, we’re home, okay? Let’s just go in, check on (Y/N), and go to bed.” 

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but closed it, instead, letting his shoulders slump. He found he was too tired to argue. “Fine,” he grumbled, tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder, and wrapped his thumb around the strap. 

The two ventured into the bunker, the familiarity, safety, and comfort of it all causing the exhaustion to double down on them. Sam let out a deep yawn as they stumbled down the stairs with heavy steps. 

“Where do you think (Y/N) is?” Dean asked, the corner of his mouth opening as he yawned as well. 

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Probably his room. Probably asleep for the night,” 

“Alright, I’ll check in on him. Make sure he’s not dying.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine,” he grumbled. 

They walked down the hallway to their respective rooms. Sam wandered into his room, leaving the door open as Dean walked down to his. Sam turned on the lamp from his nightstand and winced slightly at the harsh yellow light. He placed his bag at the corner of his bed and made his way over to the dresser. He was at least thankful for the fact he didn’t use any of the clothes he had packed. Less laundry he would have to do. He kicked off his boots and moved them over to the side of his dresser before he unzipped his duffel bag and began to place all of the clothes he had packed back into their designated spots. 

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice echoed through the hall. “He’s not in his room!” 

Sam furrowed his brows and glanced towards the open door. “Did you check the bathroom?” 

It was silent for a couple of seconds as Sam finished organizing his dresser. Soon, footsteps approached, which caused him to turn back to the door. Dean stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He gestured with his thumb down the hallway. 

“He’s not in the bathroom either.” He said. 

Sam furrowed his brows and hummed. He ran his hand tiredly through his hair. “He was on the couch when we left. Maybe he’s there.” 

“Right, right, I’ll go check.” 

Dean pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked away. Sam could practically feel the exhaustion starting to overwhelm him. He was used to staying up for hours on end, especially when it came to necessary research for a hunt. However, with all the driving they did that day, Dean’s constant bickering, and the endless classic rock songs, the day took a lot out of him. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had any caffeine either. He hoped that Dean would be able to find their brother so he could crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity. 

As soon as Dean left, Sam took his empty duffel bag and placed it on the floor next to his shoes. He then walked over to his door, closed it gently, and wandered back over to his dresser, where he proceeded to change into his nightwear. Once the jeans and flannel were off his body, he felt a sense of relaxation, and even more tired than he had been before. 

Just as he pulled on his sweats, his door swung open. He jumped and turned around, eyes wide. Dean stood in the doorway, a massive grin spread across his lips. 

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “I was changing.” 

“Sorry,” Dean waved him off and shook his head. “Sammy…you gotta come see this.” 

Sam walked over to him. “What’s up? Is (Y/N) okay?” 

Dean snorted. “Oh, he is more than okay. Now, come on,” he gestured towards himself. “But you gotta be quiet.” 

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, brows furrowed, before Dean turned and began to head back down the hallway. Sam followed, the two of them walking silently. Now and then, Dean would glance back at his brother, a child-like glimmer in his eye, the look only causing further confusion. 

“Stop looking at me like that, you’re creeping me out,” Sam said with an unsteady tone. 

Dean shushed him, placing his index finger against his lips, as they stopped in front of the open living room door. Carefully, Dean took a step into the room and pointed to the couch. 

“Look,” he whispered. 

Sam stared at Dean before he, too, stepped into the room, peering inside. His eyes landed on the sofa. At the sight before him, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. 

When he first saw the look of giddiness in his brother’s eyes, he didn’t know what he was expecting to find. He was too tired to come up with any type of logical explanation at that point. The last thing he would have predicted, though, something that wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, was the image placed directly in front of him. He would have never guessed he would find his oldest brother with a man lying on his chest, peacefully asleep on the couch. 

It took Sam a bit to realize his shocked expression was still on his face. He corrected it and crossed his arms as he slowly edged his way into the room, his footsteps light and quiet. Dean followed after him, his grin never wavering. 

“So, I guess he wasn’t sick,” Sam whispered, leaning his body closer to Dean. 

“Nope,” Dean whispered a little louder right back. “And you owe me twenty bucks,” 

“For what?” 

“Remember that bet we made?” 

“Which one?” 

“The one when we were at the bar in Illinois.” 

“What? Six years ago?” 

“Yeah! I told you that I bet he was gay.” 

“This doesn’t mean he’s gay. He could be bisexual for all we know.” Sam shrugged. 

Dean deadpanned. “Sammy, have you ever seen him pick up chicks?” 

“Well, no, but-” 

“The entire time we’ve known him, have you ever heard about him having a girlfriend?” 

“No, but he could just be a private person.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “Well, I know I’m right.” 

“How’re you so sure?” 

“I’m his brother, I know him.” 

“I’m his brother, too, dumbass.” 

“Yeah, but you’re the baby. I’ve known him longer.” 

Sam scoffed and shook his head. Dean threw his hands up dramatically. 

“Why don’t we just ask him?” Dean asked as he walked closer to the couch.

“Dude, he’s sleeping,” Sam hissed between clenched teeth.

“And? It’s almost five o’clock. He needs to wake his ass up and introduce us to his boyfriend,” 

Sam opened his mouth to say something else but found it difficult in his drained state. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as he watched Dean move to the end of the couch where (Y/N)’s head rested. Dean went to say something but stopped himself. He quickly reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and took a picture of (Y/N) and his mystery man. Dean chuckled deeply, chest rumbling. 

“Real mature,” Sam mumbled. 

“Oh, come on, I need it for blackmail later,” Dean replied, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Dean leaned back down, placing his hands on his knees, as he got closer to (Y/N)’s face. “(Y/N),” Dean said in a quiet singsong voice. “(Y/N),” he sang a little louder. 

(Y/N) hummed. 

“Time to get up, buddy,” Dean couldn’t resist the smirk that appeared. 

“Five more minutes,” (Y/N) grumbled and turned his head away from his brother. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean exclaimed, loud enough for his voice to reverberate off the walls. 

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide open, staring directly at Dean and Sam, filled with weariness and confusion. Dean stood up and backed away from him. He gave a small wave while Sam shot him a sympathetic look. (Y/N)’s gaze quickly shifted between his brothers as he blinked rapidly to wake himself up. He tried to sit up but remembered the heavy weight on his chest. He looked down at Quinn’s sleeping form. For a hunter, (Y/N) had to admit, Quinn was a heavy sleeper. He slapped Quinn on the shoulder.

“Quinn,” he said. 

Quinn whined. 

“Quinn,” he hissed. 

“Couple more minutes, babe,” 

(Y/N) closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly, trying to will away the red tinge that fought its way onto his cheeks. He slapped Quinn’s shoulder again, a little harder that time. 

“Get up!” 

Quinn groaned and opened his eyes. “What?” He looked up at (Y/N). 

(Y/N) looked at him and gestured towards his brothers. Quinn turned his head and, immediately, his brows shot up, and he appeared more alert than ever. He sat up from his position on top of his boyfriend and scrambled to sit on the couch next to him. 

“Oh, um,” Quinn cleared his throat as he situated himself on the couch, forearms resting on his knees, hands folded together. 

(Y/N) sat up slowly, his body still riddled with sleep but progressively gaining a new feeling of anxiety. Of fear. He felt like a child that was caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Despite the looks on his brothers’ faces, which preached the opposite of how he was feeling, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the worst-case scenario. He was convinced, at that moment with his brain fogged with interrupted slumber, that he had just spent his last night in the bunker. 

“So…” Dean trailed before he gestured to Quinn. “Who’s this?” 

(Y/N) looked over at Quinn before he cast his eyes down to the ground. “Um…” he paused, his mind racing, trying to think of an excuse. Trying to think of a lie that would sound convincing. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, nothing he thought of would work. His brothers would see right through it. 

Quinn watched (Y/N) and noticed how much he struggled with getting the words out. He licked his lips and sat up. “I’m Quinn, I’m his-” 

“He’s my boyfriend.” 

“I mean, I would hope he’s your boyfriend. I think the way you guys were practically sleeping inside each other was a bit too much for just friends,” Dean replied and chuckled. 

Sam sighed. “Dean, don’t be an ass.” 

“I’m just saying,” Dean shrugged. 

(Y/N) huffed before he slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “You know what, it’s too early for this. If you’re going to yell, go ahead and yell. Just get it out of your system. I’ll just go ahead and start packing,” (Y/N) turned to leave the room. Quinn was quick to stand. 

The smile vanished from Dean’s face for the first time since he discovered the two. “Hey, hey, hey, woah, woah,” Dean rushed over and gently grasped his brother’s arm to stop him. “Packing? Why?” 

(Y/N) halted and turned to his brother. “I just…I figured-” 

“What? That we would kick you out?” 

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and looked down. Dean’s frown deepened as Sam padded closer to them. 

“(Y/N),” Sam began. “We would never kick you out because of that. All because you have a boyfriend?” 

“Wait, so…” (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he fully turned his body so he was facing Sam and Dean. “You guys don’t care that I’m gay?” 

Dean immediately smacked Sam’s shoulder. “See? Told you! You owe me!” 

“Okay, okay, hold on,” (Y/N) ran his hands down his face and shook his head. He suddenly felt a strong, warm arm wrap across his shoulders. He glanced up to see Quinn standing by his side, holding onto him. A comforting smile was on his face. (Y/N) then looked back at his brothers. “You bet on me being gay?” 

“I said that you were gay. Sammy over here didn’t believe it for a minute.” Dean said smugly. 

“It’s not that I didn’t believe it. We just didn’t have anything to go off of.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“I knew from the moment he turned that hot blonde down at the first bar we went to,” Dean nodded. 

“Yeah, right,” 

“I did! She was hot! He would have been stupid to turn him down if he was straight, which he isn’t.” 

“He could have also had a type Dean.” 

“Type my ass, that girl was everyone’s type,” 

While his brothers bickered in front of him, (Y/N) watched them, mouth agape. Next to him, Quinn chuckled. He pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. 

“How’re you feeling?” He whispered in his ear. 

(Y/N) looked at him for a second before he stared back at his brothers, mouth still open, words seemingly unable to form. He was too in shock to think of anything to say. He was so busy convincing himself that his brothers would negatively view him after he came out to them that he never took into consideration the possibility of them being supportive. It was then he began to think of all the things they had supported him in through the years. They were always with him, always had his back, and he always had theirs. Sure, they had their fights, they had their moments, but they always came back together. They always talked it through. 

In the end, he felt like a fool for thinking they would kick him out. 

“Look, I need to ask something,” Sam chimed up, his attention now turned towards his eldest brother. 

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered up at him. He closed his mouth, feeling that it had gone dry. 

“(Y/N), what did we do to ever make you think we would kick you out? And, whatever it is, I’m sorry that we came across that way.” Sam continued.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we never meant to do anything that made you think you couldn’t tell us.” 

(Y/N) hesitated. “No, no, you guys, you guys didn’t do anything, um…it’s just…I…” Again, he was struggling to find the words to describe his thought process. 

“He was projecting his own insecurity onto the situation,” Quinn said, nodding. 

(Y/N) ran his tongue over his teeth and pursed his lips. He looked up at Quinn and gave him a tight smile. “You know, Quinn, that couch was pretty comfy, right?” 

Quinn furrowed his brows at the statement. “Uh, yeah, I guess it was?” 

“Would you like to sleep on it for the rest of your visit?” 

Dean snorted and Sam pressed his lips into a thin line to hide the grin he was holding back.

“Uh, nope, no, I’m okay,” 

“That’s what I thought,” (Y/N) shook his head and turned to his brothers. “No, guys, you didn’t do anything wrong. I guess…I don’t know, with the way that Dad was with us growing up, a part of me was afraid that that part of him would have rubbed off on you guys. I was severely overthinking it and I let the fear of what Dad would think overshadow how you guys truly are.” (Y/N) then looked back up at Quinn. “Was that a good way to describe it? Since it seems like you’re my shrink now?” 

“That was wonderfully put, babe,” Quinn grinned widely. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. 

Sam chuckled. “Hey, I get it, okay?” Sam smiled comfortingly. “I wish that you would have told us sooner, but I’m glad we know now. Just know that we still love you, (Y/N), no matter who you date.” 

“Unless you were dating a demon,” Dean interjected. “Or Crowley. Crowley is off limits.” 

“Crowley isn’t my type anyway, so you don’t have to worry about that,” (Y/N) chuckled. “My type is more of a Midwest-Country hunter.” (Y/N) wrapped an arm around Quinn’s middle. 

Quinn looked down at him with a small smile on his face. A couple of seconds ticked by before a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh! You mean me!” 

(Y/N) deadpanned. “A Midwest-Country hunter who’s also an idiot at times.” 

“But I’m your idiot.” 

“Unfortunately,” 

“Hey!” 

“You guys are so cute,” Dean paused. “Makes me want to throw up.” He grimaced. 

“So, wait, you’re a hunter?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah! We met two years ago. I joined you guys on a hunt in Ohio. Columbus?” 

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they both shook their heads. 

“Sorry, man,” Dean said. “We see a lot of hunters while we’re out, and two years is a long time.” 

Quinn waved him off. “I get it, don’t worry.” 

“Only gives us more of a reason to get to know you,” Sam mumbled before a yawn erupted from his mouth. “But not tonight. How long are you staying for?” 

“About a week,” Quinn shrugged. “If that’s alright, of course.” 

“Yeah, yeah, no worries man. As long as you stay the Hell out of my room,” Dean fought back his yawn. 

“Noted.” Quinn chuckled. 

“Alright, well, it was nice meeting you, again, but we’re hitting the hay. The drive back was brutal.” 

“Why are you guys back so early anyway? You never said anything.” (Y/N) asked. 

“Well, you see, Garth-” Dean began. 

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, pushing him towards the door. “We’ll explain when we get up. We need to get to bed and I don’t need to hear him complain anymore tonight. He’s been doing it all night.” 

“Hey, I have not complained all night.” 

“All night he has done nothing but complain.” 

“I have not!” 

Sam and Dean squabbled as they shuffled out of the room, their voices echoing down the hall. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as he listened. 

“Goodnight!” He hollered once their voices started to soften. 

There was a pause before both brothers simultaneously shouted, “Goodnight!” back. 

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head. Suddenly, he felt Quinn wrap an arm around his waist, pulling his body close. (Y/N) turned and tilted his head to look up at him. Quinn rested his forehead against (Y/N)’s, their noses brushing against one another. 

“Is it too late to say ‘I told you so’?” Quinn asked in a quiet, low voice. 

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Well, it’s not too late for you to still sleep on the couch.” 

Quinn snorted, his chest rumbling with his chuckle. “You love me too much to do that.” 

“I guess,” 

“You guess?” Quinn asked, his hands moving from (Y/N)’s back to his stomach. “You guess?” 

(Y/N) tried to jerk away, but found that Quinn had a strong grasp on him. “Quinn,” he warned. 

“You guess?” Quinn repeated before his fingers began to dance over (Y/N)’s stomach. 

(Y/N) tried to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up inside his throat, but it was all to no avail. His attempts to move away from Quinn were futile as the laughs echoed in the room. Quinn had a goofy grin on his face.  

“Quinn, stop!” 

“Do you love me?” 

“Yes!” 

“Say it!” 

“Dammit! I love you, you idiot!” 

As soon as (Y/N) spoke, the tickling seized. The laughter died down and Quinn wrapped his arms around (Y/N), pulling him into a tight embrace. He began to litter (Y/N)’s face with kisses. 

(Y/N) grimaced. “Stop it!” He whined, smiling. 

Quinn let out a content sigh, pressing a final kiss to his temple. “I’m proud of you, you know that?” 

“What?” 

“I’m proud of you.” 

“For what?” 

Quinn pulled back so that he was able to look his boyfriend in his eyes. “For telling your brothers. For letting yourself be vulnerable like that. Now that’s the man I want to be with. The strong, badass, sometimes vulnerable hunter that is confident in himself. I can already see a change in you as soon as they told you they accepted you.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

(Y/N) tilted his head to the side and looked up deep into Quinn’s eyes with much love and adoration. He leaned up and gently pressed a kiss against his lips. Quinn closed his eyes and kissed him back immediately. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt sparks as they kissed, as if they were kissing for the first time all over again. It made his chest flutter and his stomach stir with butterflies. It reinforced the idea that Quinn loved him, and he loved Quinn. They were with each other through thick and thin. Quinn was, indeed, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

As they parted, they stared longingly into each other’s eyes, the passion never waning as Quinn reached a hand up to caress (Y/N)’s cheek. 

“What do you say we go back to your room and cuddle? It’s still pretty early,” Quinn suggested. 

“I like that idea. But no more sleeping on top of me.” 

“Aw, come on, but you’re so comfy. How about we take turns? Now you can sleep on top of me.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “It’s a deal.” 

[ymmpily]

Masterlist | The Cullens Series

Summary: Vincent Black Rothschild was born on June 15th, 1989 to a wonderful family. They were not only well-off but also kind and generous. Vincent grew up with plenty of love. As Vincent grew each day so did the roughness in which he played, this resulted in plenty of hospital visits. This was how the family eventually became acquainted with Dr. Carlisle Cullen. In 1997 only a year after meeting Carlisle a group of newborn vampires terrorized the Rothschild home, luckily enough Alice had a vision; though this did not save Vincent B. Rothschilds' parents it did save him. In the end Carlisle being a compassionate man he is, he decided he would not leave the child in the hands of a foster system, this resulted with him adopting the child to become one of his own. The other members in the coven did not agree with this and told him it was dangerous, warning him of the possible outcomes. Instead of agreeing with his coven family he headed their warnings and invited the child with open arms; Esme soon followed.

↳ The Cullens x Adopted!Male Reader

Word Count: n/a

Chapters: Unknown

Status: Currently a work in progress.

Taglist: I wanted to make this an option so just let me know if you'd like to be added!

Character Pt.1 | Character Pt.2 | Character Pt.3

Life Before The Twilight Franchise.

Prologue

Twilight.

New Moon.

Eclipse.

Breaking Dawn Pt.1 + 2.

🏷️

[katzu919]

hii! i was wondering if you could write something about the reader coming out as trans (ftm) to his older brother ayato <3

coming out as trans to your older brother ayato

(note- d/n means dead name (it’s used once))

You were nervous. I mean who wouldn’t be. You finally decided you would tell your brother Ayato, THE Yashiro Commissioner, you were trans. You took a deep breath before knocking on his bedroom door.

“Come in.” He replied to your knock. As you slid open the door he was currently sitting at his desk, always doing work. “oh D/N is something wrong?” You took another deep breath.

“I- uh… I need to tell you something.” You took another deep breath. Ayato looked up at you. Giving you his full attention. ‘Just get it over with.’ you told yourself. “I.. I’m not a girl.” Ayato doesn’t say anything so you continue. “I don’t feel like one… and I just feel like a boy and I-I know it might sound stupid or-or-“ Before you could continue Ayato brought you into a hug. You were so fixated on trying to justify yourself that you didn’t hear or notice him walk up to you.

“Shhh it’s okay.” He soothed. “You don’t have to justify what you’re feeling right now, Just breathe.” You took deep breath. “That’s better, now could you explain a little bit more for me?” You nodded.

“I feel like a boy.” You tell him. Gripping onto him like he is your last life line. “I know I’m a boy and I don’t want to be called D/N anymore. I really like the name… Y/N.” You exhale, feeling better getting it off your chest.

“Alright, would you like me to inform the rest of the commission about this?” He asks, pulling back a bit to look at your face. You shake your head.

“Maybe later.. I don’t know if i can handle that many people knowing.”

“That’s alright.” He smiles at you. “We’ll go at your pace Y/N.”

Ah i hope you like this :). As always sorry for any spelling mistakes

[babyjackdaniels]

[thebaileybugle]

Proud

Pairing: Mateo Chavez x older brother!reader (platonic)

Warning(s): Past self-doubt, mention of fire, language, stress, reader has been in San Antonio way longer than Mateo and adapted some of the…lango (as always, let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: No idea where the idea came from to write this but I hope y’all enjoy, Merry Christmas Eve

——————————

You march over to your brother, still recovering from being scared of shit.

“The hell was that Matteo?” he couldn’t see it- hell no one could see it, but you were shaking. Never in your life as a first responder have you been as thrown off and absolutely mortified like you had in the few minutes Matteo was in the building.

Mateo’s face was covered in ash, small tears from the inhalation smoke, rimmed his eyes. You weren’t the only one scared to death for those five minutes he was inside. 126 was right there next to you at the rebel the entry of the crumbling building waiting for Matteo to be spotted again.

Sure, you face these kinds of situations almost every day, but the feeling of worry is different when family is involved…

And that’s what your fellow first responders thought about when the two of you collided in an embrace.

Everyone was on the edge of their seat for the younger cruise to reach them once again, the 126, especially.

-

“The hell do you mean they’re used to be a coal mine under here?” You rushed over to Judd, a wave of something foreign washing over you as you took in his words.

“County closed it down decades ago but-” You cut him off.

“The air pockets could still be down there.” The 126 and your station went into a silence as the information sunk in.

“How long does he have?” Strand asked running a hand through his hair from the rising stress of the situation. “ yesWe half to get him out, no matter the time, but still how long?” They all turn to face Judd.

He released of breath and smooth hand over his face.

“No more than 10 minutes.”

-

You squeezed your brother tight in your arms, to make sure he’s really there, to make sure he’s really alive.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” Mateo muttered out in a stutter, guilt in pain evident in the cracking of his voice.

“Just don’t put something like that again.” You felt him nod and you kissed tone crown of your baby brother’s head as a comfort for both you and him.

-

You are one step away from being seated in the fire engine when you noticed your brother running back toward the building. Pausing in your place you yelled over to him.

“Junior! What, you drop something?”

“There’s someone else in there!” Healed reply, without looking back. You went to follow him, but was held back by Strand and one of your guys.

“Let go, let me go in there, let me-” you granted out as you struggled against their combined strength.

“We were lucky to make it out on scratch.” Strand explained, while they both added more strength to keep you back. panics bike inside you from his words.

“Then why the hell is he going in?” You questioned, finally giving up and pushing their hands off of you.

“He ran off before we could stop. If we could've, we would've.”

-

The 126 was settling into the fire engine but all paused as they heard the last of your conversation with your brother.

“I’m ecstatic you got that guy out but don’t you ever do that shit again.” You pulled apart from a second embrace you engulfed your brother into.

“I just wanted to be like you… make you proud.” His gaze went from your eyes to the cemented ground. You grimaced at his explanation and shook your head. You pinched the bridge of your nose and squeezed you eyes tightly closed.

“Is this because of the award ceremony from last month?” You asked Mateo, opening your eyes again to find him still looking sheepishly at the ground. He nodded his head and with the same sheepish look brought his gaze back up to meet yours. “Jesus Mateo… you don’t need to run into overly fatal fires to be like me especially to make me proud.”

“But-” Mateo tried to argue but you cut him off putting a hand on the side of his head.

“Baby brother, I've been proud of you since you made your way into the world twenty five years ago. Since I held your tiny little baby body in my arms when you first came home, and I’ve been proud of you through every single big and small accomplishment and mistake you went through in both our lives. I love you so damn much Mateo, you hear me?” You brought your hand to his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze then shoved him just a bit.

“I love you too, big bro” Mateo replied, a single tear slipped from his eye.

————

Ending A/N: 🥹 Mateo deserves so much love

[imaginemalereader]

Hi! Could I please request an enola Holmes headcannons for enloa helping her brother with his depression, please?

Headcanons: Enola helping you, her brother, with depression

Of your siblings, Enola is by far the best at supporting you. Sherlock’s not terrible some of the time, but Mycroft is just plain awful at it

If you have the energy, she’ll get you to practice jiujitsu with her. You would never have guessed having your sister flip you onto a mat would make you feel better, but sometimes that was just the reset you needed to knock you out of your funk

You never just let her win though so sometimes you won which also felt good

Sometimes though, she’s really good for just talking

If you need to talk, she’ll listen to you (actually listen) and sit with you while you verbally process everything

If you ask for advice, she’ll give it. She doesn’t always give very good advice, but it’s nice that she tries and sometimes her “advice” is actually pretty funny

Other times, you just need to be with someone else and hear them talking and if there’s one thing Enola’s good at, it’s talking your ear off. She’ll talk about flowers, about cases, about Tewkesbury, about your siblings or your mother. It doesn’t really matter to you but it helps pull you out of your head

She’ll take you on strolls on the streets of London or in the park. These might be your favorite since you get to see the world and get reminded that it’s all so much bigger and richer than you sometimes can remember. 

She makes a regular check in with you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself

Usually you two go out to eat since you both know she should not be allowed in the kitchen

Sometimes she’ll invite Sherlock along, for any number of reasons

Either you need your brother’s pragmatism or she knows that he needs more socializing

No matter what, it’s fun to be with both your siblings, especially this version of Sherlock that has really come out since Enola came back into his life

Your family has never been very touchy feely, but damn if Enola doesn’t give good hugs when you need them

Enola knows you pretty well it seems. She can tell if you need mental stimulation like helping her with a case or the emotional support your brothers tend to lack for as well

You credit her a lot with helping you out of your bad days and making sure you remember there are good things in the world and people who care about you

[darless]

A Final Dance

Req - After reader fight with his sister's he continued to be a fatui harbinger years later jean heard tragic news from the traveler about her brother ( in this reader takes signora's place in inazuma archon quest)

Part 2 of Harbinger!Reader !

CW - reader dies, reader replaces Signora. Traveler is Aether because I play him :)

You hopped out of the way of the traveler’s blade, hissing out as you two circled each other. Your body ached from cuts and bruises, though you could see the tiredness starting to sag in his body. This traveler was indeed quite good, as you had heard stories from others- including Childe, boasting about how tight the battle was.

You eyed an opening, figuring with a final blow you could defeat this boy and finish the business in Inazuma. As you went for it, a rather strong gust of electro from the traveler had you stumbling back, gasping out as you fell and clutched your side, growling out in pain.

The traveler stepped back quickly, already on defense mode as the Raiden Shogun entered. You felt a small bit of hope that quickly dwindled as she stepped past him, the little fairy creature watching with big frightened eyes. Still, your pride had you believe that this woman- even as an archon, wouldn’t dare hurt a Harbinger. You stumbled to your feet; shouting orders at her to stop.

A burst of panic wound around your heart, squeezing it until every bit of pride and dignity fled your body, leaving you pleading for mercy as you stumbled back from the blade “Please..! I’ll leave Inazuma for good, I swear on the Tsaritsa!”

You fell away as she continued to approach, eyes cold, and you eyed the Traveler behind her as you gripped the two charms in your pocket- one of the only things left you had of your sisters. Little charms of a music note for Barbara, and a dandelion for Jean. You took a deep, shuddering breath as everything slowed down, the blade mere inches away. The charms left your hand as they left with what little strength you had, and you watched the traveler instinctively catch them with a startled expression, your eyes shutting as the blade swung down with a single thought left;

‘Jean, Barbara, I’m so sorry.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aether walked slowly across the bridge into Mondstat, still holding the little charms as his head spun. He hadn’t figured it out until much later with everything happening, but that was definitely the brother Barbara mentioned so fondly. Paimon flew next to him, quiet for once as they paused at the gates, breathing in the familiar air.

Barbara ran up to the two, smiling brightly “Traveler! You’re back! How was everything?” His heartbeat quickened in guilt, looking down at the floor “Hi, Barbara.. erm, I actually need to speak to you and Jean. Preferably in her office..?” The girl smiled brightly and nodded, leading him there.

She continued talking about the church and how everything else had been going, though Aether barely caught the words until they reached Jean’s door, the woman’s voice flowing through in a familiarity that made him want to cry.

The Acting Grant Master smiled warmly at the three of them, Barbara sitting as they turned to look at Aether. He swallowed back the lump growing in his throat, holding out the charms.

The office was quiet for what felt like hours to him, before Barbara’s wail broke through the silence, sobs overtaking the girl. He stared at the ground, only looking up at a shaking word “H-how..?”

Aether looked up at Jean, all the color gone from her face and eyes full of tears, mouth agape as she stared at the little charms. He swallowed again, gently placing them down and telling her about everything that happened in Inazuma.

She closed her eyes for a moment as he finished, before opening them and sending a small glance at her sobbing little sister, voice breaking as she spoke “Thank you, Aether. I think.. I think Barbara and I need to be alone together.” He stood, sharing a small look with Paimon before quietly hugging Jean and leaving her office, head down.

Weeks later, there was a new grave with a dandelion and musical note engraved, letters a bright white color that stuck out against the gray stone.

‘{Your Name}; Proud Big Brother to Jean Gunnhildr and Barbara Pegg’

[chiefsuitnacho]

The Originals-mikaelson family x male reader

The final version of the previous draft

Gif isn't mine credit to the original person who made this I couldn't find them anywhere.

"Brother,its good to see you"

Y/n knew that voice it was his noble brother are so he was called Elijah Mikaelson and his other brother klaus had broke the one oath that their family held dear always and forever.

Elijah had stood by and watched as Klaus stabbed him in the back literally with a stake leaving him to rot in a coffin for 15 years all because he had tried to leave to find himself. Thankfully, Damon and Stefan were stupid enough to take his coffin as leverage against klaus and after the wonderful Elena stupidly pulled the dagger out he made his escape, hoping to never see another original again sadly he was never that lucky.

Y/n reluctantly turned around to come face to face with Elijah having hoped to never see him again. He had surprisingly a face full of regret, the emotion looked weird on his brothers face. He knew he had regretted actions in the past but he never usually showed his younger brother, now it was all he could see on his face. In addition, Y/n couldn't help but notice his brother had cut his hair and was wearing one of his usual trademark suits.

"Elijah why are you here wouldn't you prefer to run after our hybrid brother you know that one that seems to have a love for daggers?"

"Brother,I understand your still angry but our family needs you and klaus is as unpredictable as ever with you missing. Kol nearly staked him himself once he realised what had occurred between you both. Please brother we may all be in great danger our mother has returned."

"That's impossible Elijah, mother has been dead for thousands of years."

Elijah moved slowly to put a gentle hand on his brothers shoulder to comfort him while he gave him the news of their mother's return from the grave. Even if his brother hated him he still would always be there for him.

"Damit Elijah, I'll only stick around to figure out how in the seven hells our mother came back. I will even play nice but as soon as its over I'm leaving and you or klaus can't come after me."

"Fine brother, if that is what you want but know I am always here for you and please try to forgive us. Always and forever."

"Always and forever brother, even if that promise had lost its meaning that day I was daggered."

Just like he had appeared, elijah was suddenly gone. This left Y/n, with a pit of anxiety in his stomache at the thought of seeing his family again especially klaus.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

Hey, stargate anon from before aha, is it possible to request a daniel jackson x brother reader, maybe the reader gets hurt and tries to keep it a secret but it's then later discovered (maybe some blood starts spreading through the t-shirt and he collapses? Or gets dizzy and stumbles?) But yeah, if not no worries! :)

a/n: okay, first time writing a male!reader so hopefully i do okay!! I love stargate, i should definitely start writing more for it!! i hope i interpreted your request okay, i tried my absolute best

word count: 941

warning(s): injuries - mention of stitches - i struggle

*reader and daniel are fraternal twins bc i am studied psychological effects of twins so now i have to incorporate them in everything*

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, go through the Gate, take some soil samples, and be on the way out. But, of course, it didn’t go as planned. The locals weren’t too keen on travelers through the gate, understandable considering the parasite overlords claiming to be gods. It was a small skirmish, given the facts that your team had the advantage in weaponry. But the attackers had the high ground when considering the terrain. It was a quick attack, a swift motion of a dagger made from rock that you didn’t even register until the adrenaline of the short fight wore off. After Jack had finished firing off a few warning shots to keep anyone else away, Sam continued with her samples and your brother rambled off to you about the significance of this world. 

“Those people seemed to be from the Stone age yet wore clothing akin to those we would normally see of much earlier cultures. Like thousands of years earlier! But what does that say about their culture? Well-” As Daniel rambled on, and your adrenaline finally wore off, you felt the wound in your stomach make itself noticeable. You leaned against some sort of tall flora, being as subtle as you could without showing your pain. You zipped up your vest, covering up the wound that would surely become visible soon. You nodded along periodically to what your twin was saying, normally invested in his rambles but now all your focus was on not falling over. Part of you felt embarrassed. You were stabbed by a primitive group of people only minutes after walking out of the event horizon. A heavy hand was placed on your shoulder, bringing you back into reality. You realized Daniel had stopped talking, flipping through his journals excitedly to record his finding. Teal’c looked at you with a stoic expression, but his eyes held concern. 

“Are you alright, Dr. Jackson?” Both you and your brother replied positively, making Jack snort before coughing to cover it up. You rolled your eyes simultaneously with Daniel, used to the coincidence. Born fraternal twins, with the same passion for history and ancient cultures, you were used to being referred to with the same title. It didn’t help when someone tried to clarify by saying “Mr. Jackson”, they would be immediately corrected by you, your brother, or Sam. You and Daniel had earned your high level degree and you would be addressed as such. 

You made your way back to the gate, listening to Daniel argue with Jack and sharing amused looks with Sam. You noticed the ground started to blur together but you shook your head. You would make it through the gate without suspicion, then head over to Dr. Fraiser in the guise of getting some ibuprofen.

Why does nothing go according to plan?

The combination of recently being stabbed with the shock of the cold Stargate portal, sent you tumbling through the event horizon. General Hammond sent some soldiers to check on you but you stood back up, raising your hands. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just tripped-” But with that, a fiery burst of pain shot through you and you crumpled to the ground. You felt multiple sets of hands holding you up, bringing you to Fraiser. 

“Is my brother going to be okay?” you heard Daniel’s panicked voice through your pained haze, noticing you had been placed on an examination table. Janet’s voice sounded like she was underwater but you made out her words. 

“He’ll be alright, just a few stitches and some cleaning. This reaction is because of the sudden trauma his body experienced and the loss of adrenaline. He should’ve said something after the fact. How long were you on the planet?” 

You registered the disappointment in her tone but was too in pain to care. Teal’c was the next one to speak and you noticed Daniel following around the nurse, asking her rapid fire questions as she tried to stay respectful. 

“After the ambush, we remained for about two hours.”

Janet sighed, nodding her head. She sterilized a needle, preparing for stitches. 

“Good, that’s not enough time for an infection to set in but we still have to check because of the state in which the weapon was when he was stabbed.”

Everything happened in a blur and soon enough you were resting in the med bay, stitches done and infection testing done. You were also listening sheepishly as Daniel ranted about your safety while making sure your pillows were fluffed and fever was going down. (You had developed one after an hour of being in the med bay, that’s when they discovered a very small infection). 

“Daniel I’m fine, stop mothering me.”

Your brother let out a faux offended gasp, covering his heart with his hand. 

“Dear brother of mine, I would never.”

It was at that moment that Sam, Jack, and Teal’c burst in the med bay, home baked goods and store bought alike spilling out of their arms. Sam plopped down at the foot of the bed, shoving chips towards you. 

“Guys, it's a little stab wound. It’s not like you thought I was dead.” You glared at Daniel with that statement, making Sam snort. 

“Even so, we will always comfort you when injured, so matter the severity of your wound.” Teal’c’s voice was monotone yet also full of sympathy. You grabbed a bag of chips and started stuffing your face, trying not to smile. You failed. The rest of the night was spent laughing, clutching your stomach in pain because you forgot you were stabbed, and Daniel fussing over every movement you made.

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed this! thank you for reading!!

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Hanging Criminals Pt 2 (Jason Todd X Brother!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Jason Todd X Male!Reader

Universe: DC, Batman

Warnings: Mention of death and killing

Pt 1

Request: Hey are u willing to do a part 2 of hanging crimenals with the bat fam maybe jason trying too help him or some more angst if u want if not i understand thank u for your works anyway hard too find people who write for male readers on here nowadays

It had been a month since your adoptive father had pulled you from doing patrol and shoved you into intense therapy about your past before your adoption in the Wayne family. Progress was slow, mostly because you didn’t want to be there, but Bruce had managed to find either the most patient or the most persistent therapist in the field, because you still went, and on the days you didn’t want to go in, the therapist came to you. Either that, or Jason would literally drag you there.

You hadn’t expected Jason to be the one most involved in your so called ‘recovery’ since he understood your mindset the best. He didn’t follow the ‘no kill’ rule Bruce had, and the pair didn’t get along on most of the time, but with Bruce pulling you out of patrol, locking away your weapons and suit, literally threatening to break your leg to stop you if you still persisted, the second oldest seemed to realise something. Bruce was scared. He was genuinely terrified about what was happening with you, and was trying his goddamn hardest to stop this now rather than later, and trying to stop you on this destructive path… a little bit like how he had done with Jason when he was younger, but this time taking a lot more action. 

He hated to admit it, but he saw the old man’s point of view, and he understood and agreed. Something really had to change, and instead of sitting idly like how he and the others had done previously when Bruce found out you’d hung a criminal again, he was gonna step up, be involved, and snuff this flame that was getting out of hand. 

“Y/N, are you ready?” Jason called, knocking on your bedroom door, the keys to one of the cars in his hand, his phone in the other, checking his messages, especially the one that Alfred had sent him with the time you had to be at your session, and the time he recommended he set off with you to ensure you got there in time. Jason chose to bother you to be ready 10 minutes before that set off time since he knew from experience that he would probably have to push and poke at least to get you to go. 

Today seemed to be no different. After a few second with no response, Jason hit his fist against the door, and waited a few more seconds, before he tried the door, finding it open and he opened the door, swinging it open. He leant on the doorframe, looking inside, finding you sat on the edge of your bed upright, head slightly tilted down, mostly ignoring the presence of your brother in the doorway. The look in your eye was… hard to read. There was an anger behind them, but accompanied by your slumped shoulders either showed frustration or defeat. He had understood your feelings. He knew you had heard the news. 

“He’s gonna kill someone.” You finally spoke up. The person in question was an elusive man you had been practically stalking for weeks prior to Bruce effectively grounding you, and when Bruce had put the others onto your cases, you had tried to get Jason on that specific case, but when Bruce saw that he instead took it upon himself. Surprise surprise, he caught the man in the process of searching for a victim. Bruce dropped him off with the police, but since he had a brother who was high up in law enforcement, he got out scott free last afternoon, all charges dropped. “He’s gonna kill who knows how many people before people realise what he’s doing, and they’re not gonna believe it’s him… so many innocent lives ruined, so many families without answers of who took aware their loved ones, all because no one ultimately stopped him. All because Bruce is too much of a coward.” You spat. 

“...I know Y/N. I’m pissed off too. Guess you heard me screaming at him last night about it?” Jason asked, getting a small hum in response. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll keep an eye on him for you off the record, and if I see anything, I’ll put a stop to it.” Jason promised you.

“If you see anything. It is completely possible that he’s already acted. You can’t watch him all the time.” You brushed off. “I’m not going to therapy today.”

“You have to, if you want to do patrols again.” 

“You and I both know Bruce has no intentions of letting me patrol again.”

“And I think he’s an idiot for it. He should know by now that fully revoking you from doing a job he himself trained you to do will only make you act out and go against him. I’ve talked to the others about it, and they agree. We’re gonna hound the old man to let you patrol but with one of us to get started again, and if he still says no, I’ve pulled a few strings to get you out of the city for a while,you just have to promise to lay low until we convince him to calm down and actually work with you. But you have to work with us as well.” 

You looked up at your brother finally, not saying anything at first, thinking about his offer to you, but ultimately knowing that what he and your other siblings were offering was much better than what your dad was, and that it was far more fair, and far less of a sacrifice for you. “Alright. I’ll behave.”

“Good. Now come on.” Jason pointed his head out of the door, and with far less resistance, you stood and followed him out.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @freyathehuntress   @theplacewhererobindied  @rebellionofthecattle  @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lady-of-lies​ @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[imafivestarkpopstan]

Request : Saturday Event!! Could you do a 2Gether x Sibling Reader Hospital Headcanons plsss? - anon

Answer : Ofc!

Join the Happy Saturday event!

Sarawat - Brother Reader

The moment your boyfriend, Bf/N, told him you were in the hospital, he dropped everything and raced over. Tine was unable to calm him down, and he had a literal breakdown.

You were knocked down by a reckless drunk woman, who was driving a lorry.

Blurry haze - everything for Sarawat was a blurry haze. His brother was in the hospital, in a medically induced coma, and you might not wake up.

Five days later, you woke up. Satawat was sleeping on the couch, and you tried not to laugh. Eventually, it was your blanket shuffling which some him.

He was sooooo happy to see you. He was so relieved, that he actually cried. Real tears.

When you went home, he made sure you were resting.

Tine - Sister Reader

When he was informed you suffered a fainting spell, and were in the hospital, Tine, like Sarawat, dropped everything to go.

You insisted you felt fine, but the hospital made you stay, in case you'd gotten a concussion.

Tine and Type had to threaten you so you wouldn't overuse yourself again.

Type - Sister Reader

Same as Tine

Phukong

He wasn't as dramatic as Sarawat, but he did worry a lot, and he pent five sleepless nights thinking about you.

Boss - Brother Reader

You were with him when it happened.

One second you were being your usual stupid selves at the beach, and then out of nowhere, a giant dog started attacking you.

Boss quickly called the ambulance, and fifteen minutes later, you were in the hospital with five dog bites.

You were in the hospital for three days.

Here you go! Hope you enjoyed this anon!

[supernaturalscribe67]

Against the Grain

Words: 3,059

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Fluff, Language (?), a brief mention of blood

Summary: Ever since the reader has come out to his brothers has transgender, they have been nothing but supportive. The only thing that Dean hasn't been supportive of is the reader's inconsistent facial hair growth. So, Dean comes up with a way to help him by teaching him how to shave.

A/N: I've officially hit over 30,000 words on my blog and I honestly have no idea how to feel about it...Feedback is greatly appreciated! Much love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Are suits always so itchy?

Granted, he didn’t know if he would feel the same if they had gotten his outfit from a retailer that specialized in men’s formalwear instead of the old Goodwill a couple of towns over, but they needed something quick and easy. It didn’t help that he wasn’t able to wash it between cases either, but he was thankful nonetheless. Sam and Dean had promised that they would take him to get fitted for a professional suit on their way back to the bunker. 

James Garrison would kindly pay, of course. 

When (Y/N) came out to his brothers as transgender, he didn’t know what kind of reaction he was expecting from them. All of the negativity that was brought upon them from early childhood had clouded his judgment on how they would respond to such dramatic news. He had kept it a secret from them for about three years as a result of the anxiety, already having trouble coming to terms with his new self-discovery. Alas, two years ago, when he had gathered up all of his courage and sat his brothers down to explain in grave detail what was going on inside of his head, they were nothing but supportive. 

It was an adjustment at first, with Dean having the hardest time with getting pronouns correct and slipping up on the name change, but (Y/N) could tell that he was doing his best, and that was all that mattered. He got better after a couple of months and had abandoned (Y/N)’s deadname and old pronouns completely in favor of his newly updated ones. (Y/N) could tell that Dean was proud of himself, and he was proud of him too. Sam, being the nerd that he is, wanted to learn more about transgenderism. He would ask his brother questions and scour the endless medical journals available online if (Y/N) couldn’t answer the ones that he had. He even went as far as to help (Y/N) find the perfect binder and get him set up with an appointment to start testosterone. Thanks to Sam, (Y/N) had been on testosterone for almost a year-and-a-half. 

With the use of testosterone came changes, changes that he wasn’t necessarily expecting. He was constantly starving, constantly horny, and hair was growing everywhere on his body. Everywhere. Even though he didn’t mind the hair growth in some places, one place that the hair seemed to be lacking in growth was on his face, the place where he had wanted it to grow the most. He had a couple of scraggly pieces here and there, most of the hair growth being on his sideburns and underneath his chin, none of the patches consistent in length. Still, every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but smile. He had finally started to feel like his true self. Like he was starting to morph into the person he was destined to be.

And he couldn’t be happier. 

(Y/N) emerged from the poorly lit motel bathroom, combing the sides of his hair with his fingertips. Sam and Dean stood in the center of the room, clad in their mock FBI uniforms. When they heard (Y/N) exit the bathroom, they turned their attention to him. It was the first time that he felt confident enough to dress as an agent on a case, and he was a little uncertain about his appearance. He wanted to make sure he looked professional enough to pass. It was a big change compared to when he only had to wear a blouse and pencil skirt. He didn’t miss those days. 

With his arms held out in a grandiose gesture, he gave a small smile. “What do you think? Do I look okay?” He asked with a tone that indicated his uncertainty. 

Sam and Dean eyed him, their gaze scanning from the top of his head to his shoes. Sam nodded. 

“Yeah, you look great,” he commented, a smirk curled up in the corner of his lips. 

Dean, on the other hand, furrowed his brows. “You look like a douchebag.” 

Sam slapped Dean’s shoulder. “Dude,” he hissed. 

“What?” He held his hands up. 

(Y/N) frowned and looked down at himself. “Why do I look like a douchebag?” He asked, his shoulders slouched to show his disappointment. 

“You don’t look like a douchebag,” Sam shook his head rapidly. 

“Yes, he does! It’s because of that little neck beard you have going on.” Dean gestured to his face. 

(Y/N) slowly ran his fingers through the hair under his chin, neck, and sides of his face. “What’s wrong with my facial hair?” His voice was quiet.

“(Y/N), don’t listen to him, there is nothing wrong-” Sam began. 

“Sam,” Dean interrupted before looking back at (Y/N). “Look, FBI agents need to be clean to make it more believable. You look like a kid who just got out of a nightlong session playing that…that…War of Worlds or whatever.” 

“World of Warcraft?” (Y/N) arched a brow. 

“Yeah, that. You gotta shave it.” 

“I don’t know how,” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam was quick to interrupt. He was sending Dean the deadliest of glares. “Dean, we don’t have time for him to do that. He looks great. He doesn’t need to change anything. Let’s just go, and, if it makes you feel any better, we can say he’s a rookie.” 

Dean sighed. “Fine.” He mumbled before he turned back to (Y/N). “But when we get back, I’ll show you have to shave properly.” 

“Okay,” (Y/N) nodded. 

Dean and Sam then turned and made their way out of the motel. (Y/N) stopped for a moment and returned a hand to his face. He felt the patches of long hair caress his fingertips while the patches of stubble made his hand itch. He scowled.

“I’m not a rookie,” he mumbled to himself before he followed after his brothers. 

“Alright,” Dean grumbled as he pushed the stopper into the sink. He proceeded to fill the basin up with warm water. “Now, one thing that you need to know is that you never, under any circumstances, share razors. Lucky for you, I packed a spare one.” He smiled as he pulled a new razor out of his pocket, handing it off to (Y/N). 

(Y/N) glanced down at the razor. It was one of the cheap ones. One that you would find in a pack of ten or fifteen in a Walmart. The plastic was still hooked onto the side of the blade. (Y/N) took off the plastic bit and tossed it into the small trashcan in the corner of the room. 

“What happens if you share razors?” (Y/N) asked. 

“You can get an infection. You don’t know how clean someone else’s face is, and if you nick yourself, then you’ll be in a lot of pain. Trust me, Sammy and I learned a lot about that when we were younger.” He chuckled. “Okay, the first thing you want to do is get your face wet.” 

Dean set his razor to the side and dipped his hands into the warm water. He leaned his head downward, brought his cupped hand up to his face, and wet his jaw. When he pulled his hand away, droplets fell into the sink below. He then looked at (Y/N), who raised his brows before he followed suit. He dipped his hands into the water, lowered his head, and brought some water to his face. His facial hair clung to his jawline as water dripped from his chin. 

“Right, what I like to do now,” Dean reached down and picked up his razor. He looked in the mirror and tilted his head to the side so that he could fully see the right side of his face. “Is…make a mark on both of my sideburns where the hair meets the face.”

Dean reached the razor up and cut a small portion of his stubble near the hairline. It was only about an inch or two worth of hair. When he was done with the right side, he turned his head and did the same for the left side. He rinsed the razor in the water. 

“You got it?” He raised a brow. 

(Y/N) looked at himself in the mirror, turning his head from side to side. He furrowed his brows and hesitantly reached his razor up. He stopped before the razor could touch his face. “Where do I cut?” He asked timidly. 

Dean sat his razor down and turned to his brother. He looked in the mirror, into his eyes, before he looked back at the side of his head. “You’re gonna wanna cut right…” he trailed as he reached up and ran his finger along the side of his face, about a third of the way down his ear. “Here.” 

(Y/N) reached his hand up and allowed the razor to levitate above the spot Dean had pointed. “Here?” 

“Yeah, right there. And don’t be shy about it. You’ve got this.” 

(Y/N) glanced at Dean before giving a small nod. He then turned and looked in the mirror. He brought the razor to his face and made a small mark on his sideburns, the same as Dean had done with his. Once he was done with the first mark, he looked at his brother. Dean smiled softly at him, confirming that he had done it correctly. (Y/N) then tilted his head to the other side, repeating the process. When he was done, he rinsed his razor, just like Dean had, and looked towards him expectedly. 

“Good, good,” Dean nodded before he reached over to the corner of the sink. He picked up a can of shaving cream, popped the top off, and sprayed a dollop into his hands. He held out the can towards (Y/N), who held out one hand for him. Dean sprayed some of the shaving cream into his hand before he set it on the counter and placed the cap back on. “Now, you want to make sure to cover every part of your face where the hair grows. Just watch and do what I do.” 

(Y/N) gave a small nod and watched as Dean began to apply the shaving cream onto his face, starting with his right cheek before moving down his jawline and to the other. (Y/N) followed his movements exactly. The shaving cream felt different against his face, it was wet and cold, yet soft at the same time. He remembered times at the end of some school years, when he was younger, when the teacher would give them shaving cream on their desks to help clean the surfaces. He remembered drawing faces in the shaving cream, pictures of cartoon ghosts and cats. They proceeded to apply the shaving cream over their cupid’s bows, onto their chins, and their necks. When Dean was done, he rinsed his hand in the water, (Y/N) followed. 

“Alright, the moment of truth,” Dean smiled at him as he picked up his razor. “We’ll start with the face and then make our way down to the neck. Just follow my lead, okay? I’ll go slow.” 

“Okay,” (Y/N) nodded and picked up his razor. 

Both of them turned to face the mirror. (Y/N) stared at his reflection for a moment, a part of him noting how humorous he looked with the beard of shaving cream before his eyes shifted over to Dean. As Dean began to shave his face, (Y/N) copied his movements. Every time Dean rinsed his razor in the sink, (Y/N) did as well. Everywhere Dean put his razor, (Y/N) put his. 

It was a strange sensation, shaving. Since it was his first time, (Y/N) didn’t know how he felt about it. From the curl of his lip when he had to shave his cupid’s bow and chin, to the feeling of the shaving cream slowly running down his neck. It was new, but not disliked. It was easy enough, easier since he was following the live tutorial next to him. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander, though. Let his mind think back to the times when he was younger and watching from some random bathroom doorframe as Dean taught Sam to shave for the first time. Dean held the same expressions on his face back then when he taught Sam as now. A sort of proud, grown expression, giving (Y/N) the first taste of realization that Dean was the one who raised them, not their father. Fathers were supposed to teach their sons how to shave their faces for the first time, not the older brothers. It was almost as if Dean adapted the fatherly role in (Y/N) and Sam’s lives. (Y/N) would never forget that. 

(Y/N) hissed. “Dammit,” he mumbled as he pulled the razor away from his face. 

He looked in the mirror and could see a small, red circle appear on his left cheek. It had been the last strip of facial hair left. He had been doing so well up until then. 

Dean’s head turned towards him before he let out a chuckle. He placed his razor down on the sink and leaned down to snag a small piece of cheap toilet paper. He moved over to his brother and tilted his head so that he could see the nick. Gingerly, he placed the piece of toilet paper onto the red mark. It stuck instantly to (Y/N)’s face. 

“There we go,” Dean smirked and turned back to the sink. “Not bad on the face. One nick is pretty good for your first time. Now, onto the neck.” 

(Y/N) did the same for his neck as he had done for his face, glancing in the mirror at his reflection while, now and then, turning to study his brother’s movements. He shaved his neck without incident, and when he rinsed his razor for the last time in the basin, the water now clouded with a mixture of hair and shaving cream, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He felt proud of himself. When Dean set his razor down, so did (Y/N). They looked at their reflections and examined themselves. 

“And you're done,” Dean nodded. “All we have to do is rinse our faces,” Dean reached over, turned on the warm water from the tap, and cupped his hands to rinse off the rest of the shaving cream. Once Dean was finished, (Y/N) copied. “And we’re done.” Dean smiled at (Y/N) in the mirror. 

When (Y/N) looked at his freshly shaven face, he ran his fingers over the places where the hair had been. The skin was smooth, something that he was going to have to get used to again, and he looked younger, in his opinion. The corner of his lips curled downwards in a frown. 

“I look like a baby,” he mumbled. 

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “No, you don’t. You look like a new man. Hey, facial hair grows back fast, and it’ll grow back a little more even this time. If you wanna keep it, I can show you how to shave around it when it does, to keep you looking clean and not like some homeless guy.” 

“Really?” (Y/N) raised his brows. 

“Of course. As long as you promise not to grow out a lumberjack beard or anything,” Dean dramatically shivered. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “No promises,” he chuckled. 

“Oh!” Dean exclaimed. “Almost forgot. Aftershave!” 

“Aftershave?” 

“Yeah,” Dean reached over to the bottle that sat next to the shaving cream can. It was a small, green bottle of Brut. He splashed some into the palm of his hand before he put some in (Y/N)’s. He placed the bottle onto the counter and capped it. “It helps with those stupid razor burns and bumps.” 

(Y/N) nodded as he looked down at the liquid in his hand. The scent was strong, and he recognized it as something Dean smelled of often. He, once again, copied Dean’s movements as Dean began to massage the liquid into his face and onto his neck. When (Y/N) massaged it onto his left cheek, he felt his skin begin to burn when it ran into the small nick on his face. Dean smirked. 

“Burns, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, why the hell does it burn?” 

Dean shrugged. “Not too sure. You’ll get used to it. And once you stop cutting yourself while shaving, it won’t burn as bad.” 

(Y/N) grimaced and continued to rub it in until all he could smell was the Brut and his entire face had been covered. Dean lowered his hands and unplugged the sink. The clouded water began to drain. 

“There, now we’re officially done. What do you think?” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “Not bad. I could get used to it, but I look stupid with this tissue on my face.” 

“Oh, here,” Dean reached over and carefully took the wet paper off of his cut. “See? It’s like you didn’t even cut yourself.” 

“Wow…” (Y/N) turned his face back and forth, examining the spots where the hair used to be. 

“Now you can shave by yourself whenever you want. We just need to get you your own razors, and I can show you how to use an electric one when we get back to the bunker if you want.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, his smile never faltering. 

An identical smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips as he looked over at Dean. “Thanks, Dean. You’re a great big brother,” he spoke quietly. 

Dean tilted his head down, narrowing his eyes. “What was that?” 

“I said ‘You’re a great big brother’.” He spoke a little louder that time.

“Come again?” Dean cupped one of his hands behind his ear. 

“You’re pushing it, Dean.” 

“Alright, alright.” Dean laughed as he reached over and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N) placed his arms around Dean’s torso and hugged him tightly. “For the record, you’re the best little brother a guy could ask for. Just don’t tell Sam.” 

(Y/N) smiled even wider. “I won’t.” 

[mysicklove]

Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.

cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.

big brother au masterlist

“Su-kuna!”

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs. 

Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”

In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm. 

The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”

Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.

Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”

“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up. 

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.

The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”  

“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”

“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”

“Yuuji!” 

“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question. 

In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”

Your eyes widen and you push at his broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”

“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”

You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is-um-is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man. 

“No, love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person. 

The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.

You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”

“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.

Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.

“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.

“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”

“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.

You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.” 

“Yes!”

“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”

Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”

“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.

You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”

“Why not?”

The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”

“And?”

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”

He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”

You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”

“You can't kick me out of my own room!”

You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”

The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed. 

When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”

“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. 

His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.

“Hm?” 

“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.

You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”

You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.

Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch. 

[emmyrosee]

anon sent me an ask about toddler yuuji putting flowers in readers hair and reader putting one in Sukuna’s hair and of COURSE MY ASS DELETED IT- so here it is in a not so pretty format ☹️🫶🏻

——-

Tiny legs toddle over to sukuna, only to bypass him completely and waddle to you, a dandelion clenched in his fist. The yellow flower looks brighter in the sunlight, but not as bright as your smile when yuuji nudges the flower at you proudly. “For me?” You coo, and he nods victoriously.

“Head!” He says, patting your head gently with his free hand. You give him a hum of understanding, bowing down so the small boy can plant the weed in himself; he does so, happily, and Sukuna’s heart squeezes at the sight.

There’s a contrast of the yellow that now nests in your tresses versus the hues in your hair, and when you turn to smile at him, Sukuna’s own lips curl into a small smirk. He’d never tell you, but the fact his favorite little twerp has taken more than a liking to you means the world to him, and he adores watching you both interact as smoothly as you do.

He sees the love in Yuuji’s eyes. He’s almost positive it’s the same love he looks at you with.

When the small child comes back over to give you another flower, you capture it in your own hand to slip it into Sukuna’s in the same place as yours rests. He blinks, unamused, only for you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“Looks good with your tattoos,” you say, leaning up to press a kiss to his jawline, which he hums appreciatively at. “Makes you less scary.”

“I’m not scary,” he scoffs. “I’m threatening.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you snort.

Yuuji’s eyes suddenly light up and his chubby legs carry him back to the dandelions, one hand grabs the yellow weed, the other grabs a puffy, white one. When he runs back to show you both, the puffs have disappeared from the bud of the dandelion and flown into the air, leaving just a stem.

“For you!” He chirps, passing you the yellow weed. Then, he turns to Sukuna and thrusts his small hand at his brother- only to then drop in confusion when there’s no longer fluff adorning the weed. “Huh?”

“It blew away, bud,” Sukuna sighs. “Gotta be careful with those, be gentle.”

Yuuji merely blinks big eyes at his brother in confusion, but it quickly fades and turns to pride as he ushers the stem to his older brother. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“We’cm ‘suku!”