Slashers x Male Reader Oneshots

|Bottled Up|Sinclair Brothers

[Lester and Vincent Sinclair]
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You were walking around on the street. The sidewalks were mostly empty, a few dog-walkers here and there. You looked from the grey cement and your gaze connected with a picture of a happy family. Your heart sunk and you stared at it. There were other pictures; flowers, dogs, insects, etc, but you could only stare at the singular one.

The one you never had.

The one you always wanted.

The one you tried to create.

You could feel slight tears forming in the side of your eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you continued walking, your head now hung in sorrow.

Familial subjects were always... difficult to talk about. Especially since you never felt like there was much to talk about. You had to mature much faster than you should have, your childhood being robbed from you before you even knew how precious it was. You were expected to act like an adult when you were only a child—not even a teenager—and your parents had much to blame for it. They'd always throw their problems onto you, expecting you to help them with it. Why pay for therapy when you can have a kid?

And then your brother. God, you hated him. That little shit got away with everything. He never had to mature, and he never did. Your parents were hard on him, but it didn't damage him as much as it did you. Your parents had made you their little pet afraid to breathe wrong, while he trashed the house and would always scream and yell. If you even DARED to have an ounce of tone in your voice, you'd be yelled at and lectured. Your punishments consisted of the silent treatment and being neglected.

The only your brother would do what you told him to was through violence. That was the only language he spoke. When you two were younger, you'd both gotten into a fight. Before you could even think your next action, you punched him square in the nose. You'd broken a few bones in his nose and always thought he looked like Owen Wilson because of it.

Everyone always told you, "one day, you guys will be best friends. When I was your age, my sibling and I would always get into fights and now we're best friends". Well fuck them 'cause they fucking lied. Your relationship with your brother only got worse. The little fuck-wad didn't get better. He never learned manners, never learned to behave, and never learned to take responsibility.

You felt your blood start to boil and your fists clench. The side of your head started to pound as you began to pull at your hair. It was an unhealthy habit, you knew that, but how else were you supposed to let go of your anger? Go to therapy? Psshhh. Why do that when your hair and skin are right here and free?

So you'd ended up in the bathroom, staring into the mirror as your violent thoughts pounded inside your head. No, no, no. This isn't who you are anymore. You'd promised yourself you wouldn't do this anymore.

In a fit of rage and adrenaline you punched the mirror. It held the same speed and mindlessness of what you'd done to your brother years ago. You let out huffs as you stared at your now bloody hand. You let out strained breaths as you now realized what you did. You slid down the cabinets beneath the sink as you began to cry, your tears filled with frustration.

"Stupid fucking bullshit..." You whined out as you let out small whimpers. Your adrenaline decided to leave at the worst possible time and now you had to face the consequences of your actions.

"Y/n? Baby? Is ev'rythin' alright in there?" You heard a few small taps on the bathroom door before it opened. You looked to see Lester with a worried face and Vincent hovering behind him. The trucker's face turned from worry to extreme terror as he rushed to your side, grabbing your wrist and holding up your fist. "What the hell happened?" He questioned. You could only cry more as you looked away from him, ashamed of the situation. Lester stood up and grabbed a first-aid kit from one of the upper cabinets. He helped you onto your feet and ran your shaking hand under the cold water. He then turned off the tap. He opened the small box with a 'click' and pulled out some tweezers. He carefully picked the glass from your knuckles before wrapping up the wounds.

You walked out of the bathroom and Vimcent wrapped his arms around you. He gave you a warm, comforting hug and you buried your face in the man's chest. You profusely apologized for the tears stains you left on him, but he only squeezed you tighter.

"Y/n, you don't need to say sorry." You heard Lester say behind you as you felt his hand on your back. You sniffled as you felt him slowly start to rub up and down your spine. You pulled away from Vincent's chest as you turned to Lester. The short-haired man held your face in his hand and gave you a lopsided smile. You couldn't help but smile back. A tear slipped down your cheek and he brushed it away. "Baby, what happ'ned?" He whispered. You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked away.

"Its nothing, really." You whispered back and sighed. Lester obviously didn't believe your lie and gave you a questioning look. He placed a small kiss on your forehead before walking you to your bedroom.

"How 'bout we watch some TV?" He asked. You nodded, hoping it'd get your mind off the throbbing pain that resided in your hand. Lester and Vincent cuddled you under the covers as you watched some random 'reality' show.