#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.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

SKIPPING CLASS WITH MALE WB!READER

Your not a bad influence on your younger brothers you swear you just need them to live a little (platonic!batboys x wb!reader)

School’s almost over, and somehow all three of my little brothers have managed to go their entire academic careers without skipping a single class. Not once. Not even a harmless “oops, I missed math because I was totally in the library” kind of skip.

Take Tim, for example. He’s the perfect student smart, polite, and way too considerate for his own good. With all his medical conditions, he could easily get away with sneaking out of class. All he’d have to do is say he’s going to the nurse, and no one would question it. But no, not Tim. When you suggested it, he said, “What if someone actually needs to go to the nurse and I’m already out just wandering around? It wouldn’t be fair.”

A solid retort to that? “We have like four different nurses, Tim. Is it really that big of a deal?”

Then there’s Duke. Poor guy’s terrified of breaking any rules. He’s genuinely afraid to walk around the school because he thinks his coach might see him or someone might ask, “Why aren’t you in class?” or “Are you skipping?” or “Didn’t I see you last during track and field?” He’s so scared of being caught that trying to turn him into even a slightly rebellious kid is a full-time job.

Damian, on the other hand, is the easiest to sway. When there’s a substitute teacher, all it takes is grabbing him by the collar like a bear cub and saying, “Hey, can I borrow this one from you?” Before the teacher can even respond, we’re already gone. Damian doesn’t even get mad civics class is boring anyway. You take him to all my favorite skipping spots and hideouts around the school. One day, when he’s a senior, he’ll need a good place to take a break.

Eventually, You manage to rope both Tim and Duke into it with Damian’s help, of course. Duke’s rambling the whole time about what’ll happen if we get caught, while Tim’s trying to embrace his inner rebel. “What if we get detention?” Tim asks, half excited, half horrified. Duke’s practically shaking behind you, terrified someone with any authority might notice him.

“Relax,” you tell him “We can just skip detention too. Don’t worry—I’ve got the perfect hideout.”

"Remember my rule, boys: y'all better not snitch!" They nod their heads eagerly.

Honestly, you might be the worst influence on your little brothers. But at least they’ll have some stories to tell when school finally ends.

[sweetiecelin]

About a Tot

For that one Anon who requested little brother!reader but taking place during 'About a Boy', and instead of Dean being aged down it was reader. I really had fun writing this and I hope y'all like it!

Summary: basically Sam and Dean were able to baby their baby brother once more.

-

Sam and Dean were very confused when they got a call from the police station about a 4 year old who claimed to be their brother. Hell, the kid even gave the cops the right phone number too. Having to face the inevitable, they headed out.

You were sitting there kicking your feet back and forth, waiting for your brothers to come and get you. Dear lord, you remember being this age and it was kind of shitty. It was the year before Sam left, he started distancing himself from you and your family. It hurt because you didn’t know why he was doing it but in retrospect you understood he didn’t want it to hurt you too much when he left. But then you had to grow up with Dean and your Dad bickering over the smallest thing. Sam leaving hurt you more than he expected, growing up you had to watch John drinking himself beyond recognition and Dean finding any excuse to get away, even if that meant leaving you with the drunkard of a Dad you shared.

You started crying, tears swelling in your eyes and lip quivering. Shaking your head, mentally thinking to yourself ‘Man up, you don’t get to cry’ as you’ve heard so many damn times growing up. You snapped your head in the direction everytime the door to the station opened, but this time it was them

“Sammy! De!” You jumped out of the chair and started running towards them with your arms open. They looked confused at first, but then a recognixed you. There was their little brother; looking the same as when Sam left(for the first time) and Dean had taken care of when he could.

Dean bent down and picked you up, “Hey buddy,” glancing around at the officers that were staring at the scene. “We’re gonna take you home now, alright?”

“You’re going to need to sign a waiver and sign him out. What were you thinking letting a child walk around all by himself?” The snippy secretary cut in.

Sam apologized and signed what he needed to while Dean carried you to the impala. He placed you on the hood just staring at the sight. Why the hell would a witch do something like this?

Sam walked out and joined the two of you over by the impala. He looked between you and Dean. You were just so little, he forgot what it felt like to see you like this. You just sat there with a pissed off look on your face, which was really hard to do being a 4 year old.

Clearing his throat Sam and called your name, “Did you see anything it’ll help us? Did you see who- or what- was doing this?”

“No, I was-was leaving a bar and then this f-flash of wight, SHIT. I can’t speak right,” You struggled to say while trying to sound serious. “A bright light just happened and then I’m like this!”

Dean chuckled a little, “So what, big flashing light and bam you're a tot again?”

“Well, yeah! But that’s not all, I woke up in this woom. Dammit. And there was this guy, a big scary guy. He took the girl in the other room next to me, she was kicking and screaming.

Sam was following tentatively but on the other hand, Dean was trying to control his laughter, “Dude you can’t even speak right! It’s hilarious!”

“De, now is not the time. We’ve got to get to everyone-” You tried to continue but again were cut off by your older brother.

“No, you’re not going to help with this one. You’re literally too young to handle this one,” Sam ordered, raising his hand up, “You’re a four year old for god sake.”

You threw your head out of frustration, starting to kick your feet up, “This is so unfair! I didn’t ask to be turned into a kid!”

“Yeah, well you’re actually throwing a temper tantrum right now,” Dean retorted and cocked his head to the side.

“Can we just go to the motel room and discuss this there?” You pleaded with them.

Sam and Dean nodded. The three of you hopped in the impala and went back to the motel. There, you discussed the case with your brothers

You yawned, stretched and then rubbed your eyes. Sam and Dean shared a look and quietly chuckled. They missed seeing this; their little brother just being a kid.

Dean walked over and placed you on the bed, “Alright champ, get some sleep. Looks like you need it.”

“I don’t wanna. We were getting close-”

Sam shook his head, “No, seriously you need to sleep. Gotta be well rested if you want to grow being and strong.”

“Now you guys are just being assholes.” Muttering you laid down on your side, trying to keep your eyes open, “Can we get lucky charms tomorrow?”

Your two older brothers shared a look, then Dean softly agreed, “Yeah kid, we can make sure you got lucky charms in the morning.”

“Good, we can share ‘em,” you yawned, finally getting some sleep.

[imaginemalereader]

Headcanons: Being Kate Bishop's adopted brother who struggles with abandonment issues

You were adopted after the battle of New York by the Bishops, having lost your own parents in the battle. It was a bond that you and Kate could share and one of the first things you really talked about together once you were ready.

It was a rough transition for everyone and you didn't settle in easily. Things were awkward and tense and everyone didn't really know how to act about it. Kate mostly just wanted to talk a lot and show you whatever she was passionate about, which was most of the time her archery stuff.

Kate was the one who ended up somewhat haphazardly managing to get you social.

She was a little awkward, but she was also incredibly stubborn.

Kate was excited to have a brother and was a little overly enthusiastic, at least in your opinion, about trying to be your friend. She invited you to all her archery things and tried to get you into it as well but you were never interested like she was.

It was a weird balance where you wanted her to like you but trying to keep her at arm's length because you didn't want to risk getting close just for her to leave. You wanted to trust her and be her friend because it was nice to have a friend but you were always afraid that she would never really see you as family and would treat you different when she got the chance, maybe even simply leave you and stop talking to you once you didn't live in the same house.

For a while, you bounced between following her around and avoiding her as you tried to work your way through your own complicated feelings about the situation. Kate struggled with the flip-flopping but ultimately was always there, whether you wanted her to be or not. And her continued insistence on showing up for you really helped your relationship.

There were lots of fights in high school as the two of you got through those difficult times and those moments where she insisted on being around when you tried to push her away but you never held them against her, nor she against you.

Truly the best thing for your relationship was when she met Clint, though you wouldn't have said that at the start.

At first it terrified you that she was going to go off and join his family and leave you. After all, she was so excited about meeting him, her hero, and getting to work with him on their mission.

Of course you were worried for her safety, but the threat of death honestly just didn't seem real, working with an Avenger. No, your fear of her leaving was much bigger, even if you knew it was irrational and you probably should be more concerned for her life and not her picking Clint's family over you.

You guys had a big argument about it the first time she was away for too long without saying anything and you almost had a crisis about never seeing her again. She was so excited about the opportunity and all you saw was your sister and probably favorite person in the world leaving you for another family. Fortunately she was able to see the fight for what it was and assure you that she didn't want to leave you, she wanted to bring you with her.

But instead she was so excited to introduce you to Clint and his family. She practically dragged you to their place at the first opportunity.

It also doubled as keeping you safe when things got bad but mostly she just wanted you to meet her awesome mentor.

After Yelena became not an enemy, Kate was ready to play big meshed family with all of you.

It was weird at first but given the amount of trauma the whole group had, you found yourself bonding with them faster than you'd ever expected.

Kate of course was helpful for getting you initially talking to people. She provided introductions, funny stories, and usually some favorite awkward encounters.

Clint and Laura were happy to have you around and their kids were excited to have another brother around too. 

After everything that had gone down with Mrs. Bishop, you were hesitant about them, but a part of you just needed something to cling to in that moment. And Kate was vouching for them so you found yourself letting it happen, even if part of you fought back against it.

All of them -- Kate, Clint, and Yelena -- were going to be going on their missions and saving the world but they always promised to come back home. Given all that they, and you, had lost, those promises meant a lot. You knew, in your heart, that they would do their best to keep those promises because they understood what it was to lose someone, just like you did. Lost parents, siblings, friends, took a toll but these ones weren't going to just leave.

[supernaturalscribe67]

Where It All Began

Words: 2,738

POV: 1st & 3rd person

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

Warning(s): Language, John Winchester, John Winchester's parenting

Summary: In the third installment of (Y/N) Winchester's Journal, he recounts the first hunt that he ever went on with his dad and oldest brother.

A/N: I'm sorry this is getting out a day late! My grandmother wouldn't let me leave the living room for longer than five minutes yesterday and I was exhausted by the time we finished the first part of Season 5. Anyway, I had this typed up prior to the requests coming in, so I'll post this now and get those requests out starting next weekend :)

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~Much Love!~

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

October 1997

I was sixteen the first time I was allowed to go on a hunt. Granted, that was after months and months of begging and pleading with my father not to stick me in some random motel room for several days. He was hesitant, more so than he had been when Dean first started fieldwork. Dean didn’t even have to ask to go; my father just decided that, one day, he was going to help him on hunts. This was after months of personal one-on-one training that Dean refused to talk about. With me, Dad made Dean teach me. Of course, he didn’t know that I had already gotten some lessons from him, so the official trainings were simple refreshers. 

Mostly, we worked on hand-to-hand combat, something that I had always been rusty with. Firearms came naturally to me, but I got my ass kicked the first couple of times Dean and I sparred. We did it at Bobby’s house, in motel parking lots, and in wooded areas. Dean said it would help me get a feel of the different environments I could meet monsters in. Get used to the elements around me. I didn’t know sticks could hurt as much as they did, but that was the last time I would ever wear shorts and a t-shirt while training or hunting. 

While we trained, Dean would try to talk me out of it. Our father wasn’t keen on the idea of my joining them, so why was it important for me to so quickly jump into the field? He’d always question me, yet I would never give him a straight answer. It would always be different, generic responses of ‘school is boring’ and ‘it’s the family business’. 

What I didn’t tell Dean was that I didn’t think it was fair that he got to be with Dad all the time. Sammy and I had to stay back while the two of them got that experience of being together. Ultimately, though, I think it was because I wanted to be just like him. Like Dean. Not my father. I didn’t look up to Dad as I had Dean, and, in my older age, I know that I never will. 

So whenever I saw the two of them going out on hunts, I wanted to be by Dean’s side, to make sure nothing happened to him. I wasn’t sure how well of a hunting partner our Dad was at the time, so I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. He was supposed to protect my brother while they were out there together, but a string of broken promises led me to have little faith in his ability to keep his word. So, if Dad wasn’t going to protect him, then I would. 

Of course, I had to get through Dad to do it. 

After a couple of months of retraining with my brother, he confirmed with Dad that he believed I was ready. Of course, Dad tried to argue back with him, but Dean stood firm on his decision. The next hunt, I was going to play backup to the two of them. 

It was a ghost hunt along the border of Colorado and Wyoming, nothing too harsh for my first run. A couple that had been plagued by the death of many people in their lives: coworkers, friends, and some family. Later, we determined that they were all individuals that the couple were having affairs with, and that the spirit was one of a woman who sought revenge on her husband for being unfaithful. 

Lorraine Wilder. 

I remember it like it was yesterday. 

She was a young housewife, one who, despite the persistent attempts, had never been able to have children. Her husband, seemingly unsatisfied with the result (this was the early 1800s, after all), started an affair with Lorraine’s cousin, Ellen. She was even younger, the perfect childbearing age. Well, Lorraine found out and couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him again. She took her own life, then proceeded to haunt his ungrateful ass until his untimely death several years later. People speculated it was a broken heart. Yes, he had played the role of a widow perfectly. What people weren’t aware of was the fact that he was still seeing Ellen in secret. Lorraine didn’t like that. 

Her body was buried in a private cemetery, about a block down from where her family’s old estate used to be before it got condemned. Dean and Dad were in charge of digging up the grave while I was on watch. 

It was going so well before shit hit the fan…

It was cold enough to snow that night, but the Winchesters were grateful that it was merely overcast. The wind was sharp as it whistled through the branches of the naked trees. John and Dean were in the grave, about five feet deep at that point, grunts falling past their lips as they dug shovelful after shovelful of dirt out and onto the earth above. (Y/N) paced back and forth above them, his hands placed deliberately on the shotgun he held. Occasionally, he would look at his dad and brother, but he was primarily focused on his surroundings. The quiet cemetery was filled with cracked headstones and dead foliage. 

“Why doesn’t he have to be the one to dig up the grave? He’s the rookie?” Dean complained as he gestured towards (Y/N)’s pacing frame. 

“Because he’s backup, Dean. He’ll have his turn someday.” John answered, his voice deep and gruff, which left no room for questioning. 

(Y/N) smirked as he looked down at Dean. Their eyes met. (Y/N) stuck out his tongue at him. Dean’s nose scrunched as he tossed a pile of dirt at him, which (Y/N) avoided and chuckled. 

“Hey,” John’s voice boomed. “This isn’t a fucking game, you two. Pay attention.” 

Dean and (Y/N) halted, their bodies still for a moment. Dean gave a sharp, curt nod. 

“Yes, sir,” he replied as he began to dig again. 

“Yes, sir,” (Y/N) voice was quieter as his gaze turned back to the cemetery and paced. 

“(Y/N), this isn’t something that you can just half-ass, you have to be on the lookout for anything, do you understand me?” John said. 

“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice as quiet as it had been before. 

“I didn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, sir,” (Y/N) repeated, louder that time. 

John nodded, and he and Dean went back to digging up the grave. 

As they felt themselves getting closer to the coffin, suddenly, the wind died, and they were plunged into silence. It was eerie, to say the least. No bird chirped, no critters scurried through the bushes. It was just silence. 

Then, a scream. 

(Y/N) turned his head to the sound, and there she was. Lorraine Wilder, dressed in black, her eyes dark and hollow. His grip on the shotgun tightened as he lifted it. In one smooth motion, he shot the apparition with rocksalt, and she vanished. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. The adrenaline began to course through his system. 

“You guys might wanna hurry,” he said with a serious voice. 

John pulled himself out of the grave and moved over to him. “Give me the gun, you finish digging with your brother.” He said. 

“No, Dad, I got this,” (Y/N) retaliated. 

“That wasn’t a question. Give me the gun!”

“No, Dad!”

“Now!”

(Y/N) lifted the gun and shot just to the right of John, which caused him to jump, only to see that the apparition vanished under the rain of rocksalt. John glared daggers at (Y/N), his jaw clenched tight. (Y/N) held his ground, his facial expression just as stern. 

“I said, I got it.” He said. 

John didn’t reply and only jumped back into the hole with Dean, silently shoveling the rest of the dirt out, with obvious anger in his motions. 

It was like clockwork. Every two minutes, she would appear, scream, and (Y/N) would shoot. After two shots, he would reload. A wash-rinse-repeat kind of deal. His shots were quick and precise every time, as if he had been hunting for years before. 

When ten minutes passed and the coffin was open, Dean and John hoisted themselves back onto the ground above, salted the body, doused her in gasoline, and lit her up, just in time to see her spirit return and scream in agony as the flames engulfed her being. With a puff of smoke, her soul vanished, and the world around them returned to normal. 

(Y/N) looked at John, and then looked at Dean. He grinned. “Dude, that was awesome,” he chuckled. 

Dean shook his head and silently gestured over John. (Y/N) smile faltered as he examined him. His brow was creased, nostrils flared, and he swore he could see steam coming out of his ears. His shoulders slouched and, within moments, John silently stormed back down the hill and to the Impala. Dean followed at a slower pace with (Y/N) right behind them. 

John popped open the arsenal in the trunk of the car. When (Y/N) got close enough, he snatched the shotgun from his hand, unloaded it, and then shoved it into the car. He slammed the cover down and put the shovels he and Dean had on top of them. (Y/N) fiddled with his fingers slightly, the anxiety and nervousness of being close to his father when he was upset flooded him. 

“So…how did I do, Dad?” (Y/N) asked quietly, which John never responded to. 

John slammed the trunk down. Wordlessly, Dean had snuck around the side of the car to get into the front passenger’s seat. He knew when to avoid his father when he was like that. 

“What do you think the next hunt will be? Maybe I’ll be able to really help out next time,” (Y/N) said with an anxious chuckle. 

John glared at him. “There won’t be a next time for you,” he said before he turned and made his way to the driver’s side. 

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he followed him. “What? Why!?”

“You know why.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“I gave you an order and you disobeyed.”

“It was a bullshit order.”

John stopped before he was able to get the door fully opened. His body turned towards (Y/N) eerily slow. “What did you say to me?” He asked, his voice deep. 

“I said it was a bullshit order. I had it handled; I didn’t need to switch with you.”

John poked his tongue into his cheek as he pointed one of his thick fingers at (Y/N)'s face. “You better watch your tone, boy,” he said. 

“Why, just because I’m right?” 

Within seconds, John grabbed the collar of (Y/N)’s shirt and slammed him against the side of the Impala. “You listen here; when you are on hunts, you listen to me. I don’t give a fuck what you think you should do; all that matters is that what I think you should do, do you understand?”

“Dad!” Dean called out as he quickly got out of the car and rounded it, trying to separate the two of them. 

“I do everything I can to protect you, I’m not gonna have you get yourself killed because you don’t know how to fucking listen. Do you understand!?” John got into his face. 

(Y/N) winced and closed his eyes, his head turned slightly to avoid the spittle that came out of John’s mouth. “Yes, sir!”

John shoved (Y/N) into Dean’s arms. He panted, jaw still set, eyes icy cold. He pointed at him again. “You’re done with hunting.”

“Dad…” Dean trailed. 

“Shut up. If he can’t listen, then he can’t hunt. End of discussion. In fact, he can fucking walk back to the motel.” John waved an arm out dramatically as he opened the driver’s side door. 

Dean frowned. “But, Dad, that’s a twenty-minute drive, he can’t walk-”

“Get in the car, Dean.” 

“Dad!”

“Get in the car,” John shouted before he got into the car and slammed the door shut. 

(Y/N) looked over at Dean, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Dean shot him a look of intense sympathy. He opened his mouth to say something, but (Y/N) lifted his hand to stop him. 

“It’s okay, Dean, go,” he said softly. 

“But…”

“Dean,” (Y/N)’s voice was soft, contrasting the way that their father’s had been. “It’s okay. I’ll make it back.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped. With a nod, he walked over and patted his back. (Y/N) then watched as Dean walked around the car and got into the passenger’s seat. The car roared to life and ripped out of the cemetery, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. (Y/N) stood there, arms crossed, and watched as the red taillights disappeared into the night. 

At the time, I always thought abandoning your child on the side of the road in the middle of a cemetery in a town they were unaware of was the worst thing any parent could do, but now that I think about it, it was probably for the best at the time. I would rather have had an hour and a half to myself, lost in my own thoughts in my own emotions, than spend twenty minutes trapped in a cramped car with my father. By the time I came back home, he wasn’t nearly as pissed. He was pissed enough to give me the silent treatment, leaving Sam and Dean as the only ones to ask if I was okay. I was fine, I was just cold. 

My dad didn’t talk to me for a couple of weeks after that. I was benched until further notice, which left me back in the same hell that I was in - watch Sammy and stay back at the motel. I had asked Dean what I had done wrong. I had an inkling, of course, but Dean confirmed it. 

I didn’t listen to Dad. 

That was it. 

All I did wrong was not listen to an order that Dad gave. 

From Dean’s perspective, I protected them perfectly. I was accurate with my shot and didn’t show any hesitancy. I took initiative. I just didn’t listen to Dad. 

That made me feel good. Less like I had to train to be better and more that I just had to suck it up and listen to Dad, no matter if I think his idea was stupid. I wasn’t there to fight Dad; I was there to protect Dean, a mistake on my part. I let my frustration with my father cloud my judgment and take my focus away from the goal that I already had in mind. Sometimes I swear I was too stubborn for my own good. 

I tried for months to get my father to let me go on a hunt with him and Dean again. No matter the amount of ass kissing that I did, he would barely talk to me and got pissed if I brought it up at the wrong time. I learned to read him, to tell, based on body language, when he was upset. I knew when I could casually bring it up. If he turned me down, I didn’t argue back. 

It wasn’t until a little after my seventeenth birthday that he agreed to let me try again. 

I had never been so obedient in my entire life. 

And I hated it. 

Yet, no matter how much I hated it, I still did it. 

After the hunt, Dad didn’t bitch about anything I did. He didn’t acknowledge that I did a good job, either. Dean did, though, outside of dad’s earshot. 

That’s all that mattered to me. What mattered was that Dean thought I did a good job. What mattered was that I knew that Dean was safe. I wasn’t allowed to go on every hunt, though, which I was fine with. That way, I could take turns keeping an eye on Sam and keeping an eye on Dean. That was my goal: to make sure my brothers were safe. 

That’s my goal, even today. Every hunt we’re on, I have to protect my big and little brothers. 

Even if they’re a pain in my ass.

[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.

[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

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