#brother!reader

[invincibledc]

Imagine the baby al ghul-Wayne twins, Y/N & Damian, these two are babbling their mouths off to each other. Bruce is just watching with an intense face, he’s trying to understand baby body language as he soon sees the brown skinned boy slap you. Your eyes widen before you start to cry. You definitely said something offensive to him in baby language. As Bruce sighs and goes to pick you up and punish Damian, Damian himself picks your hand up and makes you slap him.

Now he’s crying. Bruce just sweatdrops at this. what in the world just happened? Two baby twins crying as Damian just fails his arms around as you sit perfectly still.

Time skip, to the twins being 10. You and Damian are arguing as Bruce sighs at his kids. You hit his shoulder and he hits yours. You stay quiet as your face puff up, Damian puffs his face up as well, mimicking you. Before you can get more angry, Damian hugs you and says sorry. It’s different than what it was when you both were babies.

Bruce could only look in confusion, the twins are confusing.

[katzu919]

okau so this idea randomly came to mind so if requests r still open may i request a one of tartaglia’s little brother whos the reader. The reader even being younger than tartaglia he could be around (18-20), he ended up falling into the abyss like tartaglia, it felt as if it was years for reader in the abyss but was maybe only a couple hours. tartaglia finds out about this and hunts down his brother and comforts him since he knows what its like in the abyss. idk if this makes sense but take ur time :) , ive seen ur page floating around for a while now and just ended up following u lmao

call of the abyss

Ajax had returned to Snezhnaya after being abroad for work. Ajax’s brother, Y/n had just turned eighteen and Ajax got to celebrate it just a few days late. Y/n and his friends went out to celebrate him finally becoming an ‘adult’.

“Oh come on!” One of his friends nudged his arm. “The night barely began!” His friends laughed. They had been hanging out in an old fort they’ve had since their younger years. The old building somehow surviving the harsh weather of Snezhnaya for multiple years.

“I promised my brother I wouldn’t stay out too late so we could hang out. And he’s rarely home and I don't want to waste this time I have with him.” He replied as I stood up from the wood plank he was sitting on.

“It’s fine man, we get it.” His other friend replied. They sat higher up, looking down on Y/n. “You good to walk home by yourself? I think we’re going to stay out.” Y/n nodded his head and crossed his arms, and annoyed look crossed his face.

“Yes I can. I’ve walked the path many times, I don’t even live far.” He huffed as he made his way out of the fort. His friends laughed at his reply as he slowly made his way towards his home.

The snow crunching beneath his feet as the wind started to pick up a bit. Y/n groaned as he pulled his coat tighter to himself. Snow started to blow up around him making it hard to see anything but a few feet in front of him. His breath started to fasten as panic set in a bit. How did the weather change so drastically so quickly? The wind pushed him around as his surroundings started to become less familiar. Did he get turned around? He swore he never changed the direction he was walking in. Did the wind slowly push him in another direction? His breath started to become more panicked but before he could take another step the floor fell beneath his feet. All at once he was falling into darkness, the wind and snow no longer anywhere to be seen or heard.

Absolutely silent.

When Y/n stopped falling he hit the ground with a groan. He didn’t know how long he was falling or even how he survived the fall. He slowly got up, his hands shaking a bit as he slowly took in his surroundings. Blue and purple surrounded him, stars littered the dark sky above him. Where was he and how was he going to get out? The hairs on the back of Y/n’s neck rose as he heard the faint sound of something making its way over. He quickly stood up, his legs and arms shook as he did so. He pushed through as he slowly ran away from whatever seemed to make its way over, not too keen on meeting the inhabitants of this strange land.

-

Y/n wasn’t sure how much time passed since he fell down here. Time seemed to move differently than it did back in Snezhnaya. Was he even in Teyvat anymore? He didn’t know. It felt like months he’s been here but his body didn’t seem to reflect that. He hadn’t felt hungry, thirsty, or tired since he fell, however long ago that was now.

The creatures that roamed this land were much different from the ones he saw up in Snezhnaya. They could use the elements without visions, or at least he didn’t think they had any. He never stayed around long or close enough to see any so as far as he was concerned they didn’t. He was determined to stay undetected as long as he could, not sure how long it would be before he could make it back to Snezhnaya, or if he even could. But sadly his presence was eventually found by the creatures and beings from this place. He ran and ran, seeking a place to hide and wait for them to stop searching for him. Y/n was even more cautious now, looking over his shoulder constantly. Scared what would happen if they happened to get their hands on him.

Oh god, his family. How long has it been? Did they think he was dead? lost to the snow, frozen somewhere? Attacked by some creature? His heart ached at the thought of what his family must be going through.

Y/n slowly curled up, trying to silent his sobs. He just wanted to go home. And as if Celestia heard his wish, he felt the cold wind of Snezhnaya blow against his back. Snow falling onto his head. He lifted his head, his tired eyes open to see the white snow that covered the land. A sob broke through him as he quickly got up but quickly froze when he heard the sound of snow crunching under someone’s feet.

-

Y/n was supposed to be home hours ago. Ajax looked at the clock, a pit formed in his stomach. Something was off. He got up from where he was sitting in the living room and walked to the front door. He grabbed his coat and left the house silently, not wanting to disturb his sleeping family.

The air was quiet as he made his way towards where Y/n was supposed to be with his friends. The farther Ajax walked, the pit in his stomach grew deeper. Something about the air seemed off. Seemed to set off warning bells in his head.

The abyss. It all came rushing back. Ajax hurried his steps, hoping what he feared was not true. That you were safe and sound. Just as his panic started to grow more, he saw a figure sitting in the snow. The familiar figure stopped all the thoughts in his head as he stopped and stared. He hesitated for just a moment before he started to rush in his brother’s direction.

Y/n flinched when Ajax got close, his heart breaking. The fear in his brother's eyes as they might. Ajax stopped in his tracks, his heart felt like it broke into a million pieces. Ajax slowly kneeled down and opened his arms, his brother only hesitating for a moment before throwing himself at Ajax. Y/n craved the touch of someone after being alone for so long. He sobbed into Ajax should as he shushed him.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright. I got you.” Ajax whispered into his brother's hair. Anger started to form in Ajax. Why did his brother have to go through this? What did he do to deserve falling into the abyss?

Ajax slowly stood up with his brother in his arms. Carry him like he did when Y/n was just a baby. He rubbed Y/n’s back in soothing motions as he slowly started to walk home.

“It’s okay, we’ll get through this.” Ajax whispered to him as they walked away from the pit in the ground, oozing with an evil that Ajax hated with all his heart.

Hello! I kinda forgot how to write while writing this… hope it’s not noticeable. I’m also trying to like my writing style and be happy with it and not just quitting when i’m not instantly in love with it :p. i also write this in one sitting… anywhooo i also set up a ko-fi but do not feel like you have to send anything!! my writing is completely free and for fun (as much fun as trying to write with writers block is). Im not to sure how the abyss works even after reading through the wiki so i probably got something wrong but who cares and im also behind in the main story quest…. i’m not actually sure if people reads these notes but sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

Okay okay, i’ve not seen anyone request anything to do with brother!reader yet, how about some of the retired/older drivers showing up to their brothers first F1/F2 race to support them.

oh this is cute i love it

fernando alonso taught you to be a track menace. he's a fair bit older than you, but you still get to be "rookies" in f1 together. the sibling energy is not far away on track. he will fight you harder than he usually fights anyone else. he will also commit war crimes on your behalf.

jenson button is running between the f1 commentators box and the f2 pit lane. sky have him go karting with you before your first race and he refuses to acknowledge that you beat him. cheating allegations to spare.

kimi raikkonen quietly supports you from your garage. he's been giving you advice your whole career, but he's never really told anyone that you're his brother. he knows you want to make it to f1 on your own merit. probably takes you out for icecream after.

lewis hamilton is so proud of you. he's always ready for more diversity in motorsports, and to know that his brother is so close to being able to race with him? it's definitely a moment he will not shut up about. would even do hot laps with you.

nico rosberg is ... supportive but in a nico way. if you tease him about the selfie curse he takes a dozen in front of your garage. if he teases you about not being a wdc you flirt with lewis. he makes snarky comments about your driving, but he will rip any other commentator (or driver. or mechanic. or team principal) to shreds if they do the same.

sebastian vettel, despite his new rebrand as a calm, caring person (which i do think he is) was definitely a menace of an older brother. he was hiding your toys out of reach. rubbing it in your face when you couldn't go places with him because you were too young. all of it. that said, he's definitely going to make sure you know what you need to do. maybe by hiding your driving gloves, but that's not the point.

[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

[fanfics4all]

Devil's Blood

Request: Yes / No Hello :) would a request for Sabrina Spellman having a younger twin brother going on a demon hunt on his own but it going horribly wrong with him getting injured as a result and the story being angst and hurt comfort be ok? Anon

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Sabrina Spellman x Brother!Reader 

Word count: 1474

Warnings: Being injured from a demon! 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Greendale was a town draped in secrets, where the veil between the living and the dead was thinner than most would ever know. I had spent my whole life in its shadows, raised in the Spellman Mortuary alongside my twin sister, Sabrina. Fifteen minutes older, she never let me forget it- always the leader, the one who took charge. But while Sabrina embraced her place among witches, I carved out my own path. Not as a warlock. Not as a servant of the Dark Lord. As a hunter. 

Sabrina and I were different, but we were bound by more than just blood. We shared the same origins- the same secret hidden deep within the Spellman name. Edward and Diana Spellman were the parents who raised us, but our true Father? Lucifer Morningstar himself. 

The day we learned the truth, I knew I had a choice to make. I could give in to the power that called to me, the whispers in my veins promising greatness, or I could turn my back on it. Sabrina hesitated, torn between her mortal life and the destiny our Father had laid out for her. 

I didn’t. 

The Dark Lord was a liar, and his gifts came with chains. So, while Sabrina studied spellcraft and walked the halls of the Academy of Unseen Arts, I learned how to kill the very things she called kin. 

Aunt Zelda hated it. Aunt Hilda worried. Cousin Ambrose understood. 

But Sabrina? She fought me on it. 

“You’re turning your back on who you are.” She once told me, frustration burning in her eyes.

“And you’re embracing something that’s using you.” I shot back. 

We were twins, bound by love, but divided by belief. 

Most people think demons are these ancient, untouchable creatures. That they’re above being killed. They aren’t. You just have to know how to do it. Silver for the lesser ones. Fire for the stronger. Names hold power- say the right words, and you can bind them. Say the wrong ones, and you’ll be the one bound instead. 

The Spellman house wasn’t meant to be home to a hunter, but I made it work. In the depths of the mortuary, hidden from the watchful eyes of the coven, I forged my own weapons. Blades coated in holy oil, bullets etched with runes. I studied exorcisms and read every forbidden text I could find. 

I wasn’t just hunting demons. I was hunting my own blood. 

And they knew it. 

The night the first demon came for me, it wasn’t subtle. It slithered into my room, eyes burning like dying embers. 

“You reek of Morningstar.” It hissed. 

“And yet you fight against Him?” 

I didn’t hesitate. I drove my dagger into its throat before it could say another word. 

Let them come. 

No matter how much we fought, no matter how much we disagreed, Sabrina and I always had each other’s backs when it mattered. When she defied the Dark Lord, I stood beside her, blades drawn. When demons crawled from the pits to drag me back to Hell, she burned them to ash. 

The coven called me an abomination. The hunters called me a traitor. 

I didn’t care. 

I was a Spellman. 

And as long as my sister and I stood together, not even the Devil himself could break us. 

Beneath the quaint streets and old-fashioned charm, things lurked in the dark- things most people couldn’t see, wouldn’t believe in even if they could. Tonight was no different. I had been tracking a demon for the past three days, something old and nasty that had been feeding off the fear of unsuspecting mortals. I wasn’t sure what it was at first- until I found the claw marks carved into the walls of a run-down church at the edge of town. 

A Lilim. 

Not your average demon. Stronger. Smarter. Fast. And I was about to find out that it was way more of a problem than I had expected. I had faced demons before, but I had never been this outmatched. 

The plan was simple- lure her out, weaken her with sigils, then put a blade through her heart. That plan fell apart fast. I barely saw her move before she was on me. One second, I was preparing my trap; the next, I was flying through the air, slamming into a headstone so hard my vision blacked out for a second. Pain exploded through my ribs, and before I could even get my hands on my dagger, the Lilim was there, grinning. 

“You smell like Him.” She hissed, eyes glowing like burning coal. 

“Lucifer’s child- and yet, you hunt us? What a joke.” 

I didn’t waste time talking. I lashed out with my silver blade, catching her across the arm. She shrieked, but instead of retreating, she got angrier. I wasn’t walking away from this fight unscathed. She raked her claws down my side, fire-hot pain tearing through me as blood soaked into my shirt. I bit back a scream and stabbed her again, twisting the blade as hard as I could. She let out a shriek and staggered back. I didn’t stay to watch her recover. I turned and ran, barely managing to keep my footing as my vision swam. 

Blood loss. 

That wasn’t good. 

I barely made it home. 

I don’t even remember getting through the door. One second, I was stumbling up the steps of the Spellman Mortuary, fighting to stay conscious, and the next- I was on the floor. 

There were voices. 

Sabrina. Hilda. Zelda. Ambrose.

Someone was shaking me. Sabrina. 

“What the hell happened!?” Her voice was sharp, but I could hear the fear underneath. I tried to say something, but my throat was dry, and my whole body felt like it was on fire. 

Zelda was already barking orders. “ Hilda, get the healing salves. Ambrose, help me lift him.” 

I hissed as hands gripped me, pain tearing through my ribs like someone had shoved a hot iron into them. “Don’t-Don’t fuss…” I managed, voice barely above a whisper. 

Sabrina smacked my arm- my injured arm. “Don’t fuss!? Y/N, you’re covered in blood, and you’re telling us not to fuss!?” 

I groaned. “Ow…” 

Ambrose let out a breathy laugh, but it was short-lived. “You’re lucky to be alive. That’s demon venom in your system.” 

Zelda muttered a curse under her breath as she pressed her fingers to my wounds. Magic. Warmth flooded through me, but it did nothing for the pain. 

“Idiot boy.” She muttered. “Hunting alone. As if you’re invincible.” 

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to work. “I had it handled.” 

Hilda rolled her eyes as she poured something that smelled like hellfire and regret onto my mounds. “Oh, yes, you really ‘had it handled,’ didn’t ya, love? Bleedin’ all over my nice clean floors.” 

I flinched as the potion burned against my skin. “Holy- Auntie, what the hell is that!?” 

“It’s fixin’ you, so hush.” 

Sabrina was still gripping my hand, her knuckles white. I could feel the anger radiating off her, but it wasn’t just anger. It was fear. 

“What were you even hunting?” She asked, voice softer now. 

“Lilim.” I muttered. 

Everyone stilled. 

Zelba swore under her breath. Ambrose exhaled sharply. Even Hilda’s usual warmth faltered for a second. 

Sabrina squeezed my hand tighter. “You went after a Lilim. Alone.” 

I tried to shrug, but everything hurt. “Didn’t have a choice.” 

Sabrina shook her head, her golden eyes blazing. “You always have a choice, Y?N. You could have told me. We could’ve handled it together.” 

Her voice cracked slightly at the end, and I felt a pang of guilt deep in my chest. I hated seeing her worried. 

Ambrose sighed, leaning back. “Well, you’re lucky she didn’t kill you. It probably would have, had you not gotten away.” 

Zelda, finished with her healing, fixed me with a look that could have frozen Hell itself. 

“You’re not leaving this house until you fully recover. And you’re certainly not going after another demon alone.” 

I opened my mouth to argue, but Sabrina glared at me. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

I sighed, leaning back against the couch. I was too damn tired to fight. Maybe… just this once… I’d listen. 

As the pain eased- though not completely- I found myself staring at my sister. We had our differences. We always had. But at the end of the day, she was still my twin. Still my sister. Still, she was the person who would stand between me and a demon, just as I would for her. I let out a slow breath. 

“Thanks for patching me up.” I muttered. 

Sabrina rolled her eyes, but she was still gripping my hand like she wasn’t ready to let go yet. 

“Just… don’t make me do it again.” 

I gave her a tired smirk. “No promises.” 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @lover2448

[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.” 

[deadghosy]

I’m enjoying writing sibling!reader, I think sibling!reader fics are very amusing

[colmiillo]

me acting like I just didn't read the most filthy nasty hot smut fic of my life

[lologoinsolo]

Main Masterlist, Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 2

Thinking about Simon with a runt of a kitten and it’s barely the size of his palm. Also thinking about the poor cashier that’s stumbling over her words when that hulking man has a kitten fisted in his palm and he just jerks it forward.

“U-Uh, sir, we can’t— I can’t keep that.” His eyes make you shrivel up and you delicately hold the little kitten in your hands. “We uh— the store can’t hold animals we only sell the stuff that animals need.”

He looks at you like that’s not what he’s wanted to hear. Granted you’ve had a couple people come up to try and surrender or drop of their animals like it’s a pound. “I need things for the cat.” He says and you feel like maybe you shot yourself in the foot.

You have a line piling up behind him but no one seems to dare speak up. Why would they when this guy could lay them flat out? Jesus what are they feeding this guy? Steroids and protein powders? You think before swallowing thickly. “I can… I can get my coworkers to—“

“No.” He reaches forward and you flinch when he picks up the kitten and holds it to his chest. “You’ll help.” Nodding off and he starts to walk leaving you dumbfounded and confused. He walks a couple steps before he turns to you with a ‘well?’ look on his face.

You hurriedly grab your pager and call for someone to go through the line while you help this guy. Leading him down the aisle for the litter and you list off the different types. “There’s crystal litter, wood pellets and those are pretty good when it comes to smell. We have tofu litter and that—“

“Does it need something fancy to shit in?” He cuts off the beginning of your speech with a huff. He sounds a mix of annoyed and amused with how you bristle from his remark. You’re tempted to leave, your manager can bitch later about you doing that butttt the kitten against his chest meows and you find that you can’t leave the little thing to suffer because their dad’s a right prick.

“Sir,” you take a breath, “the litter is moreso about preference. Do you want to hide the smell of their… ya know… poop better? Or would you prefer something that clumps or something that’s easy to clean?” You wait… and wait some more before he finally says.

“Pick one.”

You blink at him and he mimics it that bastard. He just stares the entire time you have this little contest. You’re starting to feel like you should’ve called out of work. You knew today would be horrible, your instincts never lie. “Okay,” taking a deep breath and spitefully picking the most expensive and heaviest litter that your store sells. You yank it off the shelf with a groan. If it’s hard for you to lift then he’ll probably have the time of his life having to lug this home. He doesn’t seem to care about the pricing nor the weight though as he grabs the litter from your struggling arms. He shoves the kitten back to your empty hands. “I—“ you stumble over your words, trying to come up with something but he beats you to it.

“Where’s the food she need?” Lifting it onto his shoulders, the muscles bulging as he holds that thing with ease.

“Well she,“ you cough to keep from ogling too much. “Will need some kitten food and maybe some wet food later on. A good kibble would be good to add later on once she gets older,” holding the kitten up gently and her little green eyes blink at you. You prod softly at her teeth to make sure she can handle those foods. You’re hoping she’s not to young or she’ll need kitten formula. You then check her ears and see some red marks. Noticing the little black specs moving about her neck and you cringe. “And a good flea bath. Poor thing,” petting the little baby as you walk off to grab a flea comb. He’ll have to buy it anyways so you’ll make use of it now. You pick at her fur with the comb and squish whatever fleas that you find, you hate those little fuckers. “What’s her name?”

You’ve noticed he’s as silent as a grave this customer of yours. He’s hardly said a peep besides caveman grunts and nods. If it wasn’t for him nearly against your side then you would’ve thought he ran off. That black surgical mask makes him look like he’s something important. Maybe mafia or something possibly dangerous. But… he did come in holding this tiny kitten and isn’t batting an eye at the things you’ve been telling him he’ll need to get for his new pet. Perhaps he’s nicer than your judgement of him is.

You clear your throat, he probably didn’t hear you since he hasn’t tilted his head down. “Does she have a name?” You ask once more and he pulls to a stop, he had came back with a cart earlier when there were too many things for him to hold in his tree trunk arms. It was comical seeing him try to hold a litter box, scratching post, and various foods though.

He doesn’t answer save for the roll of his shoulders that looks like it could be counted as a shrug. You mouth an ‘oh’ before you mind your business. He probably just found her or he’s gonna foster and send her off. Better to not get attached…

You chatter off the things he’ll need to do. See a vet, get her spayed, make sure she has no health problems, the usual things that you mention to pet parents. The little thing in your hands is a curious thing, she wiggles about constantly. Eager to move and escape your hands and arms. Tiny tail flicking about and the meowing and pawing is cute, makes your heart squeeze when he plucks her from your hands and he holds her close. You push the cart along and stop at the toys and bowl aisle.

“Well,” you pull some toys off the shelf, crinkle toys and mouses that should help with those prey instincts. “She’s a sweetheart. I’d probably call her Bailey,” you smile fondly and his brows furrow at your advice. Grabbing the kitten shaped bowls and hurriedly putting them in the cart when you squirm under his eyes. “Oh uh, my brother always wanted a cat named Bailey. It’s a nice name but if you don’t want to call her—“

“Bailey,” he holds her up a little and the kitten paws at his face. Her little nails snag on the fibers of his mask and he pulls them off quickly. “Better than garbage, yeah?” He speaks to the kitten like a human. There’s a crinkle besides his eyes and you realize he’s smiling but when you catch what he said you drop this cactus scratcher you thought he should buy her by accident.

“Garbage?” You look aghast. You’ve heard all kinds of names but never something like that. Quickly picking the cactus scratcher back up and placing it in the piling up cart. “You’d call her that?”

He shrugs his massive shoulders again. “S’where I found ‘er.” Grumbling his reasoning. He glares at the kitten like she’s the cause of his problems. “Couldn’t sleep with’er howling and rummaging about. Made a mess that I had to clean.”

You blink a bit and now it makes some sense why he’s so… snappy? “Well… maybe she knew you’d get her if she was loud enough.”

He scoffs, “she bit and hissed at me.” He rubs his finger over her head and you notice the little red marks on his hands. “Feisty little shit shoulda left ya out in the cold.” She nips at him and he chuckles something deep.

You can’t help the smile that reaches your face. She plays with his fingers and he doesn’t flinch when she bites hard or digs her nails in. He just looks down at her with something akin to wonder and begrudged responsibility.

You pull him to your cash register and his kitten racks up a pretty hefty bill but he pays for it with wads of cash. You don’t speak on the weird crumbled bills nor the faint reddish brown color. You simply bag his items and put them in his cart. “If you need anything, sir. Come find me and I’ll help, okay?” You can’t believe you said it AND actually ment it. What can you say, you love cats more than people and that little thing won your heart as easily as she won his.

He gives a gruff nod and pushes his cart out with on hand. The kitten is pushed into his coat pocket to hide her most likely from the cold outside. She pokes her head out to give a complaint but he just gently pushes her back in. He leaves without waving and you’re left to wonder if he’ll come back. You kinda hope he does come back.

[invincibledc]

Twin!reader who’s easily sick. They can’t be a hero, they can’t fight, they can’t go out on patrols. They have to live that normal life while their whole family and twin fight bad guys. Damian always comes back home, getting dressed to relax. To take care of his beloved twin. He sits on the edge of their bed, making them take medicine, vitamins. You name it. The twin could only frown in sadness, telling Damian that they “don’t need care.” Damian felt a little anger, but was calm on the outside.

It was always his duty to protect his twin. He’s not letting you perish by your weak immune system. You will be healthy, even if it kills him to realize that you are actually dying inside.

His twin…

[katzu919]

Whazzup, Katzu✨Saw you were doin grabby hands for requests, so here I am

Howww bouuuut some headcanons bout Itto having a sibling. I'm thinking bout someone close to his own age maybe even his twin. But if your imagination goes more into the little kid section, that's completely fine too

Just me wanting to be that Oni's bro</3 I accept every wholesome or chaotic thing ya come up with

Thank you if you accept this one!

If you are anything like Itto you guys are a very chaotic pair

you two will feed into each others crazy ideas/plans, and always being there to back the other up

poor Kuki, she can’t catch a break with you two

if you’re the opposite of Itto then you’re probably trying to stop what crazy plan itto is trying to drag you and the gang into

you will probably end up going along with it after not being able to talk some sense into him

what’s the worst that could happen?

Itto (and maybe you) being arrested by the commission is

poor kuki would have to bail you two out

she thought better of you

Itto would never leave you behind after he dragged you into joining one of his adventures

no bro left behind

he would try to impress you with the beetle brawls and get you to join in

would help you find the perfect onikabuto to fight with and teach you all the skills and tricks he knows

and if you end up beating him?

he’d probably tell you he was just letting you win and would keep asking for rematches trying to beat you

Itto would help you take care of your horns and your makeup (i’m pretty sure his body markings are makeup?)

And would be over the moon if you helped him with his

Hey…. it’s been awhile. i am not dead as you can see. i don’t plan on abandoning this account i’ve just have been having a hard time getting back into writing but it’s something i still really enjoy. there are like multiple months in between some of the stuff written here but i don’t think it is that noticeable, also sorry it’s so short. I was having a hard time trying to come up with things to write. i might make a part two if i can think of anything else and because im not really happy with how this turned out :). Anyway if you sent me an ask like a year ago i am trying to get to those and you can always send me request even now it may just take a bit. anyway sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. :)

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

older brother!drivers comforting driver!reader after a bad race

-🍀

he's very concerned about you

he will make you get checked out by medical at least twice before he lets you go back to the hotel

will tell you about his bad races if you need sympathy or about his biggest career fails if you need something to laugh at

totally regrets it if you use it as blackmail later

would still do it again in a heartbeat

if you're tired and upset, he'll put on your favourite movie/show from when you were kids

he won't even fight you for the remote

he'll still tease you about your taste though

he is still your older brother after all

he may be protective but that doesn't mean you're protected from him

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ darry rings - are limited to one per lifetime, emphasizing that love should be exclusive and irreplaceable. true love verification ensures each customer can only buy one ring.

includes: itoshi sae! x reader. 0.9k wc. fluff hehe

you are unable to believe the outrageous actions of your boyfriend. this time, his doings were diabolical to the point of no return. “get out!”

you push itoshi sae out the door in a fit of frustration. his sigh is so loud, it feels like it’s echoing in your head, only making your irritation worse.

“this is my bedroom,” he deadpans, as if stating the obvious will reverse his sudden eviction. it doesn’t work. you’re already diving into the duvets with a determined scowl.

“what are you even doing?” he asks, his tone tipping into annoyance. he narrows his eyes when you march a little closer and throw his pillow into his arms.

“you’re sleeping on the couch,” you declare, voice firm, matching his now sour expression. “and actually, that pillow is way too nice. hand it back.”

he blinks, baffled, before the "too nice" pillow is snatched away and replaced with a sad, flat one that looks like it’s seen better days.

sae stares at the new pillow and then at you. this is so absurd, so far removed from the usual luxurious facade of his life, that the ever-composed itoshi sae actually laughs.

“you’re forgetting something,” he says suddenly, catching your wrist and pulling you closer.

“sae! let go!” you yelp, squirming in his grasp.

“are you seriously this upset over that cheap ring?” his tone is somewhere between exasperation and amusement, as if he should've expected such a reaction.

“it doesn’t matter if it was cheap; it was mine!” you hit his chest with a fist, glaring up at him. “and you hid it!”

“because i got you a better one,” he says, his eyebrows raising slightly, as if that explains everything.

“well, you could’ve just said that!” you huff, shoving his arm. “i was freaking out, thinking i lost it!”

"why do you even like that ring so much?" sae asks, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether this argument is even worth his energy.

"because you gave it to me in high school!" you snap back, arms crossing dramatically. "i've spent more time with that ring than with you!"

he freezes, the weight of your words sinking in. the usual sharpness in his expression softens, and for a moment, he just looks at you—really looks at you. his gaze lingers on you, quiet and heavy with a mixture of guilt and something unspoken.

it's true. he knows it. he knows just how many times he’s failed to be present for you, how many moments he’s missed, how many nights you’ve spent waiting for him to come back—both physically and emotionally. each time, each goodbye felt like he was leaving behind another piece of you. your glassy eyes were all he would remember during those long flights.

but that's exactly why he's been wanting to do this for a while. because, although he might not make it obvious, itoshi sae is more attentive than you think.

he reaches into his pocket. the movement catches your attention, and when he pulls out a small velvet box, your breath hitches.

“is that...” you begin to question, even though the answer is obvious.

he opens the box, revealing a sleek, elegant darry ring. it gleams under the soft light of the bedroom—intricate, expensive, but graceful instead of loud, the kind of thing only sae could choose.

“i didn’t hide your ring to be an ass,” he says, a rare gentleness lacing his tone. his firm hand captures yours and slides the perfectly fitted ring on your designated finger.

"i wanted you to have something better," he brings your jeweled hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss. "something worthy of you."

"i wanted to sign my name to you."

you blink, your chest tightening, and before you know it, you're rushing forward to throw your arms around him in an impulsive, tight hug.

"you're an idiot, sae!" you voice, sound coming out teary-eyed.

a moment passes without either of you saying anything. he just holds you tighter, as if making up for every moment he couldn’t be there. then, he chuckles softly, a low, soft sound that fills the space between you.

you pull back just enough to frown up at him, your hands resting on his chest. "you're laughing?!"

sae, with that trademark smirk, tilts his head slightly. "do you like it?" his voice teasing but with that edge of sincerity you know so well.

you scoff, still holding on to his shirt, a little stunned. "are you seriously asking me that right now?" you mumble, though your heart is already swelling.

"i love it," you finally smile, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "i love it, sae."

he leans forward, the tug of his smile remaining. "yeah?" he inches closer, grabbing you, leaving no room for escape. "how much?"

"so much.." you manage to whisper against his lips before he fully dives in for a kiss.

his lips move gently against yours, tasting the words you just spoke, savoring your happiness. it’s soft and tender, and deliberately slow, as he prefers.

when he finally pulls back, you're left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. you glance up at him, suddenly shy, feeling a soft blush creeping on you.

"you're still sleeping on the couch," you point and smile, face full of mischief.

sae shrugs, his expression slipping into one of playful indifference. “fine. but you’re joining me.”

before you can even protest, he scoops you up effortlessly, your squeals of protest only providing him amusement as he holds you securely in his arms.

"okay, okay! you can sleep on the bed!"

a/n: me ignoring my 1k wc essay to write a 1k wc sae fic 👍🏼

[sukunasweetheart]

Ever think about trueform sukuna becoming a father unintentionally, and when he sees his child for the first time, he is taken aback by how normal it is? No extra appendages, not a single deformed bone in its body. Just a normal child, cradled by its loving, doting mother. Do you ever think about how relieved he would feel? Maybe envious? Do you ever think about how it could possibly make him rethink his whole identity? A curse couldn't possibly be capable of creating a child so normal and healthy.

Do you ever think he reminisces to his own mother when he sees you? Your face glowing with pride and happiness, the way his mother's never did. Would you have loved your child if it was burdened with a curse, the same as him? With the way he's seen you kiss the right side of his face, he thinks you would.

Do you ever think about how he'd feel when his child holds onto his massive index finger with its tiny hand? To think that such a small, fragile thing contains half of his blood in it. His genes. His features. How small. How helpless...

To think that something so innocent was birthed as a result of his seed. Do you think his soul would quiver? Change its shape? Could he give his child the love it needs from him?

I think he could...

It wouldn't be perfect. But there's no such thing as a perfect parent in this world.

[fanfics4all]

Never Give Up: Part 2

Request: Yes / No Please can we get a part 2 to Never Give Up with Callie reuniting with her brother and her/ the family supporting the brother? Anon

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Callie Adams-Foster x Brother!Reader 

Word count: 537

Warnings: Just some comfort! 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The ride home was quiet. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from me as I stared out the window, exhausted. My body felt heavy like all the fight had drained out of me the second Stef pulled me into that hug on the bridge. I still didn’t know what to think. My mind was a mess of emotions- guilt, relief, and doubt. 

Stef had already called Lena, and I knew the second I walked through that door, I was going to have to face my family. A part of me still wasn’t sure if I deserved that if I deserved them. I expected Stef or Mike to say something, maybe lecture me or tell me how stupid I had been. But they didn’t. Stef just kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place. And Mike? He gave me a small nod when we pulled into the driveway like he was letting me know I wasn’t alone. I swallowed hard as I stepped out of the car, my stomach twisting with nerves. The second I stepped inside, the front door barely had time to close before I was practically tackled. 

“Y/N!” 

I barely had time to register what was happening before Callie and Jude wrapped their arms around me the tightest, holding on like they were afraid I’d disappear again. I felt Mariana and Jesus hugging me too, Brandon’s hand gripping my shoulder tightly. 

“You scared the hell out of us!” Callie’s voice cracked as she buried her face in my hoodie. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” 

Jude clung to my side, his small arms squeezing as tightly as they could. 

“We thought we lost you.” 

I didn’t realize I was shaking until I felt them holding onto me. My breath hitched, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself lean into them, let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I really was a part of this family. 

Mariana pulled away slightly, wiping her eyes. “You’re stuck with us, okay? No getting rid of us.” 

Jesus nodded, his voice unusually serious. “Yeah, you’re our brother, whether you like it or not.” 

Brandon exhaled, shaking his head. “We were all so scared, man.” 

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry…” My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

Callie pulled back just enough to cup my face, her eyes full of something fierce and unbreakable. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to believe us when we say we love you.” 

Jude nodded quickly. “And that you’re not going anywhere. Ever.” 

Tears burned behind my eyes as I looked at all of them, their faces filled with nothing but love and relief. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to fight like I had to prove I deserved to be here. Maybe I always did. 

Lena stepped forward then, her eyes glassy as she smoothed a hand over my hair before pulling me into a warm hug. “Welcome home, sweetheart.” 

I closed my eyes, finally letting the tears spill over as I whispered. “I’m home.” 

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