#Team Free Will x FTM!Reader

[supernaturalscribe67]

Family Don't End in Blood

Words: 8,170

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: TFW x Trans!FTM!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Transphobia, Homophobia, Slurs (f-slur/t-slur), Childhood Trauma, PTSD, Language, Mention of Childhood Abuse, Mention of Neglect of a Child, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Deadname mentioned ( [D/N] = Deadname )

Summary: 

The past is a crazy concept, isn’t it? A chain of events that happened before a certain time, constructed of words and actions that cannot be altered.

The reader lived a great life in the bunker. He had everything that he could ever ask for - people who loved him, a roof over his head, and the perfect support system. But, when a ghost from his past reappears, the reader must face his demons and come face to face with the two people who made his life a living hell; his parents.

A/N: The names and likenesses presented in this story are not meant to represent any specific person or persons. Feedback is much appreciated. DO NOT READ if any of the warnings are triggering to you! Keep yourselves healthy, keep yourselves safe!

Much love~

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The past is a crazy concept, isn’t it? A chain of events that happened before a certain time, constructed of words and actions that cannot be altered. People say to leave the past behind you. That it’s meant to be left alone, to be forgotten, in some instances more than others. One would assume that it would be an easy task to do such. You get sucked into the rhythm of day-to-day life and, suddenly, the past is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter what Carol K. said in the fourth grade behind your back to her group of preppy rich girls, or what you received on the last Halloween you ever went trick-or-treating before you realized you were too old. What happened, happened, and now you have to trek through your daily life like you know what you’re doing or what the future holds. 

A funny thing about the past is that it has a habit of creeping up on us when we least expect it. Most are in the form of a familiar song, simple words or phrases used in everyday speech, or a meal that one may not have had for years. Instances like that trigger nostalgia, sometimes bringing about good memories, while others remind people of the terrors that they had once faced. For some, however, the past doesn’t resurface at the mere mention of a street name or the town one used to live. Some are contacted by the ghosts of who they once were. The ghosts that still haunt the deepest crevices of their mind, shut away in a box as a form of comfort to get through life without having to relive the pain the spirits put them through. Sometimes those spirits get loud, and sometimes those spirits get out. 

(Y/N)’s ghosts broke out of his box a week prior, on a sunny afternoon that was spent cooped up in the Men of Letters Bunker. Everything about that day had been normal. He got up, made himself some breakfast, and watched some television while he relaxed before retreating to the quiet library with his computer. He took the time to scour the endless news articles in an attempt to find a hunt, something Sam was more adept at, but gave up thirty minutes in. Just as he was about to turn off his computer to find another way to occupy himself, his phone began to buzz beside him. The number on the screen caused his heart to stop, his skin to pale, and his eyes to widen. 

It was his ghost. 

She had broken out. 

He wasn’t going to answer. Everything in his body was telling him that it would be the worst thing that would happen to him if he picked up the phone, but morbid curiosity can make a person do things that they don’t want to do. So he picked up the phone and, for the first time in over a decade, he heard his mother’s voice. 

He wasn’t too sure how mentally present he was during the duration of the conversation, some of the things that they talked about were easily forgotten, but there were several things that he noted while they talked. Her voice was different since the last time they conversed, probably due to the Marlboros she snuck now and then behind the garage. He doubted she had broken her habit after he left. Her tone of voice was still the same, though. A sickeningly sweet voice that could fool anyone, and had fooled him more times than he could count on both of his hands. Even as they spoke, the voice was getting to him, telling him that things had changed. That they were different. That they were the way they were supposed to be. The other part of him, the sane part, told him how crazy he was for even thinking such thoughts. 

The major part of the conversation that stuck out to him was his mother’s request, something that caught him completely off guard.

“Why don’t you and your friends come down next week? Have dinner with us? It’s been so quiet since you left, and we really need to catch up!”

Lights flashed, alarms blared, and red flags were scattered around his mind. A warning sign to make up an excuse, to tell her that he had other plans, that they were far too busy to make a silly trip down to see his parents. Alas, the other part of him was whispering in his ear, begging him for closure. Begging for some type of reconciliation. Begging for the parents that he always longed for. What started as whispers had turned into screams. 

He blamed the curiosity for giving in. 

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, sweetheart! We can’t wait to see you! I know how happy your father is going to be. He’s going to be over the moon when I tell him he’s going to see his little girl again.”

It was easy enough to convince Sam, Dean, and Castiel to join him on his trip back to his hometown. Some questions were asked and some of them were answered, some with honesty, others with vague responses. He wasn’t sure he had completely recovered yet from the conversation. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to. Even the days leading up to the dinner seemed to slow to a snail’s pace, almost as if time itself had been affected by their phone call as if the universe tapped into his increasing anxiety. 

(Y/N) wasn’t fit to drive, his mind not yet returning to the present. Dean sat behind the wheel of his Impala, asking periodically for directions. From the backseat, (Y/N) would mumble out each response, his eyes cast out the window at the passing scenery. The words of the ghost repeated in his head as they drove. 

“He’s going to be over the moon when I tell him he’s going to see his little girl again…”

“...his little girl again…” 

“...his little girl…”

“...little girl…”

“...girl…”

GIRL.

(Y/N) came out to his parents when he was eighteen, and that decision changed the course of his life forever. When he walked in, the fear stirred inside of his chest like a hurricane about to strike the shore, he could never fathom what harsh words and actions would have come as a result of him doing so. The hurricane inside of his chest had been released into the house, sending a whirlwind of profanity and shattering objects every which way. He wondered if the living room still had the hole in the wall from when his father broke his mother’s antique vase against it. Going into the initial conversation, he expected some hesitancy, some disappointed looks, perhaps, but the outcome was far worse than he had ever considered. 

He met Sam and Dean by chance, having been on his own for several years at that point, and a victim of a witch gone rogue. He had heard rumors prior of Supernatural entities existing outside of the campfire stories children told at summer camp, but he never expected them to be real. His morbid curiosity kicked in after he was saved, and years later, he lived with the brothers in the bunker. His life was better, they accepted him for the man he truly was and he felt like he could be himself around them. When Castiel was introduced, he received the same heartwarming welcome that he had gotten from the brothers. He finally had a family that loved him and cared for him, and it was all he could have ever asked for. Life was going well. 

Then his box broke open. 

And his curiosity got the best of him again. 

Perhaps it would be different that time. The last time he did something on instinct rather than intuition, it got him into a wonderful, supportive family. Perhaps his parents had realized how serious he was when he came out to them. A decade is a long time to go without talking to your child. People can change. He had to believe that. Another part of him laughed. Of course, they didn’t change, why the hell would they suddenly decide to be supportive of you now? He wasn’t too sure about the answer. All he could do was have a small, sliver of hope that there was a chance that reconciliation awaited him. 

He needs to learn to lower his expectations. 

.~.

The Impala drove at a steady twenty miles per hour down the road, past the line of newly developed housing created about twelve years prior, and into the neighborhood filled with a mixture of tall and short houses dating back to the early 1910s. Back when (Y/N) was a child, it was the only part of the neighborhood that he knew, and from what he could tell nothing had changed much. Some new colored houses here and there, a fence or maybe two, but other than that, most of the houses along the winding road had stayed the same. Dead ends were still dead ends and the hills were still, undoubtedly, too high to climb over when the winter weather hit. He was thankful they took the trip during the summer. 

His childhood home was located down one of the sideroads in the deepest parts of the neighborhood. As they drove past houses, he could remember the names of children that used to live there, the times when they used to play together in the street or the creek that was a mile away. Those were good times, and a part of him wished he could relive them. He wondered what each of those children was up to. Either extremely well off or locked away for drug abuse. That was how most small-town children grew up. He was part of the small percentage that glided steadily in the middle of the chaos. He wasn’t a bum drug addict, but he wasn’t rich either. 

The house was almost unrecognizable. What used to be an ungodly piss yellow was now a basic blue color, edging on navy, with white trim. It gave the building a farmhouse-style aesthetic. The porch that wrapped around the front of the house had been painted recently, evident by how bright the white color was, and new foliage lined the driveway and walkway up to the front door, a mixture of bushes and flowers. They looked well taken care of. He gave his parents kudos for taking such good care of the exterior. He could faintly recall his mother mentioning something about retirement during their conversation, but he wasn’t certain. 

Dean pulled the car into the driveway, behind a new Ford F150 painted red. He killed the engine and the four of them sat still for a moment, the silence weighing heavy on all of them. Not much was said during the entire car ride there. Even AC/DC played low and was respectful of the preferred quiet. 

“This the place?” Dean broke the silence, turning his head to look at (Y/N). 

“Yeah…” (Y/N)’s voice was monotone, almost robotic. 

“You know, we don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” 

(Y/N) finally tore his gaze away from the house to look at Dean. He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he answered, though he wasn’t sure how convincing he made it sound. 

“Alright, if you say so. Wanna lead the way?” 

“Yeah.”

(Y/N) took a moment before he exited the car. As he stepped out, he felt as if his body weighed a ton, as if rocks were tied to his ankles and wrists. Sam, Dean, and Castiel followed his lead. He wasn’t too sure how long it took to get up to the front door. It felt like he was walking through his past, year after year and memory after memory, from the time he brought all of the luggage in after his parents inherited the house from his maternal grandparents to the moment he was thrown out forcefully by his father with nothing but the clothes on his back and a small will to live. When he regained consciousness, he eyed the door cautiously. They had painted the door, too. It was now white, much like the porch and trim. 

Before he got a chance to knock, the door was yanked open, causing him to jump violently, eyes wide. 

Standing in the doorway was a short, stout woman, and it took (Y/N) a while to realize that it was his mother. The years hadn’t been nice to her. Her teeth were off-white, and her thinner lips cracked in a large smile that fit on most of her face. The wrinkles around her eyes, lips, and across her forehead were more prominent than ever, and it seemed as if she had neglected to dye her hair recently, slivers of grays poking through her roots. She wore a long-sleeved shirt, despite the heat, and a skirt that reached down to the middle of her calves. 

“(D/N)!” She exclaimed in a childlike voice, arms outstretched wide as she approached him. 

An uneasy smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips. “Hey, Mom,” he mumbled, returning the hug hesitantly. 

“Oh! Your voice sounds so deep, dear,” she giggled and pulled back, a hand placed gingerly against her chest. “I hope you’re not getting sick.” 

“Nope…not getting sick.” 

His mother narrowed her eyes as she reached up, fingers running gently through his hair. She hummed. “You know, I liked you better with longer hair. You just look like a boy now,” her nose scrunched. 

“Yeah…” 

His mother glanced between (Y/N) and the men standing behind him. She bit her lip in anticipation. “Well?” 

“Well?” (Y/N) furrowed his brows. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” 

The question registered in his mind slower than he would have liked. He had honestly forgotten that Sam, Dean, and Castiel stood behind him. He turned his head sharply to look at them. 

“Right! Um, Mom, this is Sam, Dean, and Castiel,” he introduced them, gesturing towards each of them when he mentioned their name. 

His mother held out a hand to them individually, giving them a firm shake. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you all. As you know, I’m (D/N)’s mother, but you can just call me Clara. If you call me Mrs. (L/N), I’ll start looking around for my mother-in-law, and she’s been dead for years!” She howled in a high-pitched laughter. 

(Y/N) frowned. “Grandma’s dead?” He asked in a quiet voice. 

Clara’s laughter died quickly as she placed her hand on her cheek. The corner of her lips curled downward. She opened her mouth to speak but found it difficult to find the words she had been looking for. Finally, she reached an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulled him close to her, and gestured with her head inside. 

“Let’s go see your father, sweetheart! He’ll be so happy to see you!” She smiled again as she pulled him past the threshold of the front door and into the house. 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel glanced at one another, their brows raised. (Y/N) had told them little to nothing about his family or the life he lived before they met. They weren’t even aware that his parents were still alive. In the world of hunting, living parents were a rare occasion. However, with the first interaction with his mother, they realized that his parents seemed to be dead to him, even if they weren’t buried six feet under. 

“Now I see why he hasn’t talked to us about his family,” Sam mumbled just loud enough for the two other men to hear before he stepped foot into the house. 

Castiel’s brows were knitted together in his signature confused expression. “I don’t understand,” he spoke in a voice that was as low as Sam’s had been. “Why did (Y/N)’s mother call him by his deadname?” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He reached over, clapped a hand on Castiel’s shoulders, and answered simply, “Because his parents are dicks, Cas,” before he followed his brother into the house. Castiel followed soon after, mulling over the answer. 

The interior was just as updated as the outside. It seemed (Y/N)’s parents put their retirement to good use. The old, rustic floors were replaced with newly refurbished wooden flooring with a dark stain, all of the furniture seemed to be less than five years old, each of the rooms had been given a fresh coat of paint to replace the wallpaper and wooden panels which were popular in the 1950s, and the ceilings no longer had bundles of popcorn strewn about. The wretched smell of mothballs had even dissipated and was replaced by a Scentsy that smelled of wildflowers. 

Clara led (Y/N) into the living room. The basic shape of the living room had been the same since he last saw it, except the large leather couch they once had was replaced with a beige sectional and the 20” box TV had been replaced by a massive 75” flatscreen. His father sat in the living room in his recliner, the same recliner he had when (Y/N) was a kid. His feet were elevated and a can of Bush Lite rested in his hand. 

His father didn’t age well, either. What had once been a full head of hair was now replaced by thin, silver strands that ran from either side of his skull in a comb-over. Age spots began to materialize across his face and hands. His skin seemed leathery and shriveled, his nails brittle. His fingertips were stained yellow, indicating he had started smoking, the same bad habit his mother couldn’t seem to break. They were perfect for one another. His back was slouched as he watched TV, a hump beginning to form near the base of his neck. For a man in his late fifties, his father seemed like he was hitting his early seventies. 

“Greg! Turn the damn TV off and come see your daughter.” Clara scolded. 

Daughter. The anxiety began to bubble inside of (Y/N)’s gut, but he kept it at bay.

Greg turned his head away from the screen and smiled. “Well, I’ll be damned, I didn’t hear you pull up.” He clapped his hands onto his knees and hoisted himself out of the chair. 

“Of course, you didn’t hear her pull up with that TV being so loud. I told you you need to turn it down.” 

“I can hear just fine, woman. You don’t need to tell me anything.” 

Greg shuffled over to the two of them and was quick to wrap his arms around (Y/N), pulling him close. (Y/N) returned the hug just as hesitantly as he had done to his mother. Greg reeked of cigarettes, and it was obvious that he smoked about a pack a day. At least his mother was good at hiding her addiction from outsiders. His father, not so much. (Y/N) tried to keep a straight face when he pulled away, despite the putrid smell. 

“I missed you so much, baby girl,” he mumbled as he patted (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

“Missed you, too, Dad,” though his tone said otherwise. 

“And these are (D/N)’s friends,” Clara turned towards the men behind them. 

Greg’s gaze turned towards them and straightened up almost immediately as if to make himself appear taller, more dominant. He stepped past (Y/N) and Clara so that he stood in front of the group. He held out his hand to each of them, exchanging names and handshakes. As they talked, (Y/N)’s eyes were cast down towards the floor. 

Shame was a mild word compared to how to truly felt. He had never told the boys his deadname. Never had he even considered doing so, but by dragging them to his childhood home, he had opened up a gateway of forbidden knowledge. The knowledge that he had hoped to keep in the back of his mind. Once his ghost opened up the box, she let everything out with it. He realized how much of a fool he was to pick up the phone. That the little hope that had bubbled inside of him was blind, that there was nothing to back up any idea that his parents had changed. They hadn’t changed. They had merely brushed his transgenderism under the rug as if that fateful night ten years ago didn’t occur. 

Clara’s voice pulled (Y/N) from his thoughts as her hands came up to rest on his shoulders. He jerked and looked over at her with a startled expression. Clara smiled. 

“Why don’t you and I go into the kitchen and finish up supper while the guys talk?” She asked in that sickeningly sweet voice. 

“Um,” (Y/N)’s mouth had gone dry. “Sure.” 

“Great,” her smile tightened. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” She turned to the four other men in the room. “Would you boys like anything to drink?” 

They declined her offer with polite, forced smiles. Clara then led (Y/N) past the archway, into the hallway, and toward the kitchen. Greg placed his hands on his hips and gestured towards the sofa. 

“Why don’t you boys have a seat? Make yourselves at home. I’ll be back in a moment. Gotta take a piss. The ol’ bladder ain’t what it used to be ya’ know.” He let out a deep chuckle and headed for the hallway. 

They watched as Greg left. When he was out of sight, the three of them walked around the sectional and sat down. The door down the hallway clicked shut, and the faint sound of a radio and fan could be heard. Dean licked his lips and leaned forward. 

“Alright, we have to say something,” he said. 

“Dean,” Sam began. 

“No, Sam. We now know why (Y/N) never told us about his parents. I mean, you saw the way that he was. Something had to have happened. He looked scared. That wasn’t our (Y/N).” 

Sam sighed. “I know what you mean, but…it’s not our place to say anything to them.” Sam shrugged. 

“I believe I agree with Dean,” Castiel folded his hands in his lap. “(Y/N)’s demeanor is not what I am used to. He’s secluded. I was unable to hear what he was thinking because of how…chaotic his thoughts were at the moment. I’ve never seen him like that before.” 

“Well then, what do you suggest we do?” Sam asked. 

They sat in silence for a moment, Sam looking over in Dean’s direction, Castiel doing the same, while Dean’s eyes were focused on the floor. His lips were pursed in thought. Both Sam and Castiel knew what Dean wanted to do. He wanted to yell at them, give them a true Dean Winchester what for. Tell them that they were some of the worst parents on the face of the Earth with some colorful language mixed in. However, Dean knew that there was a time and a place for behavior like that. Run-down bars were a perfect example, not someone else’s house. He knew that they couldn’t go into that fight guns blazing. They had to be careful about it. Malicious. 

Moments of silence passed before Dean leaned back against the sectional. He crossed one of his legs lazily over the other and ran his fingers through his hair. He listened carefully to the faint sound of radio chatter and fan blades from the other room. 

“I say we just…use his correct name and pronouns whenever we talk about him,” Dean shrugged his shoulders. 

“That’s it?” 

“Yeah…that’s it.” 

Sam poked his tongue into his cheek and nodded. “And you won’t blow up.” 

Dean shook his head. “Can’t promise, but I will try to be on my best behavior,” he held up a hand. “Scout’s Honor.” 

Sam sighed. “Alright. Yeah…” he nodded. “But if (Y/N) tells us to stop…”

“Then we stop,” Dean finished. “But I’m not calling him by his deadname.” 

“It truly doesn’t suit him,” Castiel said, head tilted and eyes cast off in the distance. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam agreed. 

“It’s settled then?” Dean asked. 

“Settled,” Sam and Castiel nodded. 

.~.

Dinner was served around 5:30. It was a simple meat and potato meal, some cheap excuse of a salad served in an antique salad bowl, greens, and dessert for the road. Everyone had gathered in the dining room, just off the living room. They also seemed to have renovated that room since (Y/N) left. Previously, they had a cheap wooden table with a couple of mismatched chairs scattered around it. Now, the dining table looked lavish, mahogany with a dark stain and extravagant carvings on the legs. The chairs were wooden, the same color as the table, with white pads on the backs and seats. The wallpaper had been torn off and replaced with a bright beige with dark trim. A chandelier hung above the table that appeared to cost more than most of the renovation. Tasteless picture frames hung on every corner of the walls, some containing old family photos while others had strange abstract paintings inside. 

Greg sat at the head of the table while his wife sat at the other end. (Y/N) sat next to his mother, Dean right across from him. Sam sat next to Dean and Castiel sat next to (Y/N). Each of them had a hearty serving of food on their decorative dinner plates. Greg dug into the food almost immediately as it was served, Clara was delicate with her eating, and everyone else was respectful and slow with their bites. Even Castiel ate some of the food, despite his celestial lack of taste. (Y/N) picked at his food, mostly, but ate a few bites now and then to appease his parents. 

“So, (D/N),” Greg started with a mouthful of food, a bit of gravy dribbling out of the corner of his mouth that he didn’t bother to wipe. “What kind of work did you say y’all did?” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Gregory,” Clara scolded in a low voice, earning an eye-roll from her husband. “You said something about working in an office?” She looked towards (Y/N).

(Y/N) froze midbite. “Um…” he trailed. He had forgotten what it was he told his mother when they talked. 

“Something about hunters or something?” 

“Head hunters!” (Y/N) was quick to respond. “Right, right, um, yeah, sorry. Um…Dean and I are head hunters at Cerner. Sam works in the tech department and Castiel works in sales.” 

“Oh! That’s nice that you all get to work together! Now, Cerner, I heard about that place, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it is,” Clara’s face scrunched up. 

“We sell medical equipment and hardware, but we’re able to work from home since we live a couple of hours away from the main building.” 

“Ooo, medical equipment,” Clara cooed. “You must make a good amount of money.” 

“Yeah…some.” He mumbled and took another bite. 

Greg finally picked up the cloth napkin beside him and wiped the corner of his lips. “So where do y’all live, then? Since you get to lazily work from home…” 

“We live together near Lincoln, and the closest office is in Kansas City. It would just be easier to work from home instead of driving all that way.” (Y/N) said. 

“Wait a second…” Greg looked up at him. “Together?” He asked. 

“Yeah…we live in a house together.” 

Greg chewed slower. “I don’t know how I feel about my daughter living with three men.” 

Dean snorted. Eyes shifted over towards him. He looked up and glanced towards the head of the table. “He’s not so bad to live with,” he shrugged his shoulders. 

“He who?” Greg furrowed his brows. 

“(Y/N).” 

“Who?” 

“Your son,” Dean gestured towards (Y/N) with his fork. 

(Y/N) stopped. His heart raced rapidly in his chest as his parents’ eyes shifted towards him. In an instant, he was transported back to a decade ago. The same look that was on his parents' faces back then was on them now. His mother had a look of worry, while he could see that the veins on his father’s neck were enlarged. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed and small behind his bushy brows. The fear that overtook (Y/N) on the night he got kicked out began to flood back into his gut. He could feel the hurricane build. 

It died off when his father let out a deep chuckle, however, and the fear was replaced by confusion. 

“I see (D/N) has you guys roped into that transsexual bullshit or whatever.” Greg waved Dean off. “Sweetheart, aren’t you a little too old to be playing make-believe?” Greg’s voice was deep, demeaning. 

(Y/N) frowned. “It’s not make-believe, Dad. I’m a man.” (Y/N) spoke softly, as if he was even uncertain of himself. 

Greg laughed heartily. “You know, when your mother told me she talked you into coming home, I figured, after all these years, you would have gotten some sense into that thick head of yours. But, it seems like I was wrong. Maybe we didn’t beat you enough when you were a kid.” 

“Gregory,” Clara said between clenched teeth.

“I think you beat me plenty the night I left,” (Y/N) mumbled and took another bite, though he had already lost his appetite. 

“Don’t get lip with me, girl,” Greg growled. 

“He’s not a girl, Gregory,” Castiel chimed in, his voice calm and quiet. “His name is (Y/N) and he is a man. I believe you should respect that.” 

For the first time since he got there, (Y/N) looked over at Castiel, then to Dean, then Sam. The men that he had lived with for years were right next to him. His support system was in the same room as the people who had broken him down. He was no longer alone, no longer a scared little kid who was backed into a corner. With that thought in the back of his head, he felt the fear slowly dwindle. It was replaced with irritation. Parents were supposed to love and support their children through everything they experienced. Yet, all his parents did was cast him out once he got the confidence to come to them. The people, whom he was supposed to trust with his life, had turned to the people that he despised the most.

“Respect my ass. What happened to the respect for her parents!?” Greg dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. “Do you have any idea what we had to go through to raise your ungrateful ass? Your mother had to drop out of college, I had to take on two jobs, and this is how you thank us? Do you have any idea the things that people have been saying about us since you left? How we’re failures for parents for letting you turn out the way you did? I couldn’t even show my face in Fred’s for the longest time after that.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Dad, that you couldn’t go to your watering hole and get drunk like you did every night. How dare they assume the worst of you,” (Y/N)’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“(Y/N), I think we should go,” Sam said in a small voice. 

Greg narrowed his eyes at Sam and then at (Y/N). He pointed a meaty finger at him. “You watch what you say to me. You’re in my house. Adult or not, I will smack some sense into you.” 

“Hey, that’s not-” Sam began. 

“Gregory!” Clara spoke louder. “That’s our daughter, you can’t talk to her like that.” 

“I am not your daughter!” (Y/N) spoke loudly, his fist slammed down on the table, causing the plates and cutlery to cling together. Sam caught his glass before it could spill. 

Clara raised her brows as she looked over at (Y/N). She frowned and reached over, placing her hand on his shoulder. “(D/N)...”

(Y/N) slapped her hand away from him. “(D/N) is dead!” He shouted and stood quickly. His chair was tossed back and fell onto the floor. 

The room fell silent aside from a gasp that came from Clara. Her hand shot up to her mouth, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. All eyes were on (Y/N). He glared daggers at his mother and father. 

“She died long before you kicked me out. I thought, after all of these years, that you, my parents, would have changed. That you would see that it was not just some rebellious fucking phase you made it out to be. But I guess I was wrong. You two never changed. You two never got better. You’re still the same worthless, spineless fucks that kicked your child out all those years ago. You’re not parents. You’re garbage. White trash garbage.” 

“Hey!” Greg’s voice boomed as he stood from his spot at the table. “Don’t you ever speak to us like that,” he advanced towards (Y/N) but was stopped with a hand on his chest when Castiel stood between them. “Get the Hell out of my way. I bet you’re one of them faggot trannys, too.” 

As Greg placed his hands firmly on Castiel’s chest to undoubtedly shove him away, Castiel grabbed his wrist, flipped him over, and pinned him against the wall. Clara let out a shout, her eyes wide. 

“Cas!” Dean bellowed as he and Sam rushed over, their hands on Castiel’s arms as they tried to pull him off, but Castiel held on with all his strength. 

(Y/N) could see the anger in Castiel’s eyes. The blue that was once there was seemingly replaced by a deep, dark red. His jaw was clenched tightly, lips screwed together in a scowl. Clara rushed from her spot at the table and towards the archway leading into the hallway. 

“I’m calling the police!” She shouted, her voice echoing in the hallway. 

“Cas, let him go,” Sam said, a tone of urgency in his words.  

(Y/N) took a couple of steps towards them. He got closer to his father so that their faces were almost touching. Greg growled and tried to pull himself from Castiel’s grip, but it was futile. 

“How does it feel Gregory? How does it feel being outnumbered? To be weak? That’s all you are. You’re nothing but a weak, washed-up, lonely sack of shit. You need to start facing reality. You don’t have a daughter anymore. Never had one to begin with. At this point, you don’t even have a son. So I want you and Clara to lose my number. Pretend that I don’t even exist, and if you even bother to contact me again, best know that I’m going to make your lives a living Hell.” (Y/N)’s voice was low, deep, and dark. 

Greg said nothing. Instead, he let out staggered breaths, spittle dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. (Y/N) backed away. 

“Let him go, Cas,” (Y/N) said. 

Castiel glanced over at him for a brief moment before he let go. Greg went limp against the wall, holding his arm tightly to his chest. Sam patted Castiel’s shoulder and began to move him away from the scene. Dean grabbed (Y/N)’s arm. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Dean mumbled. 

(Y/N) gave a short nod, his eyes never leaving his father until the four of them quickly walked out of the room and towards the front door. Greg shouted incoherently down the hallway, but (Y/N) couldn’t he half-assed to care what it was he had to say. 

The sun was setting by then. The sky was painted a beautiful peach color that shifted toward the horizon to reddish-orange. They were quick to rush down the stairs and towards the Impala. Dean got in the driver’s seat, Sam in the passenger’s, and Castiel and (Y/N) got in the back. 

“Let’s get the Hell out of here. Clara was serious about calling the cops, and the porkers around here are crooked motherfuckers.” (Y/N) mumbled. 

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Dean said. 

He started the car and the engine roared to life. Dean ripped out of the driveway, tires squealing as they rushed down the neighborhood road. 

.~.

Twenty minutes out of town and the car ride was silent. No one would dare speak. The tension in the car was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. On occasion, Dean would look in the rearview mirror at (Y/N). Each time he did so, he could see that (Y/N)’s eyes were filled with a dead stare. His gaze cast towards the back of Sam’s head, eyes glazed over, as if he wasn’t even there. He was leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped together. 

Truth be told, (Y/N)’s mind was far from the present. The words that Clara and Greg spoke replayed in his head over and over again. His own words mere whispers over how loud theirs were. He thought about all that he had said to them. He had been holding in his emotions for ten years, hating what his parents had become, hating that they had turned their backs on him as soon as he needed them the most. He developed a heavy resentment towards them, something that he knew couldn’t be fixed from a simple dinner visit. 

But another part of him, the child-like voice that spoke in the back of his head, wished that things had changed. Wished for the parents that he so desperately wanted. Parents were supposed to watch out for their children, to protect them, and his parents had neglected to do so. They abandoned him. What worthless fucks they were. Still, it was hard for him not to want the good parents he had hoped they would be. To hope for parents who supported and loved him. He wanted his mother to just wrap her arms around him and call him her son. He wanted his father to clap him on the shoulder and tell him how proud he was. How brave he was to come out. None of that happened. He would never get the validation from his parents that he longed for. 

And he hated it. 

He knew that Dean, Sam, and Castiel loved him. Loved him more than his parents ever would, but he couldn’t help the desperate want that clawed deep within his mind. In a way, he felt ashamed for even wanting it. He had everything in his life that he ever needed - a support system, people who loved him, a place he could call home - yet he still wanted more. He felt greedy. Selfish. 

“Pull over,” (Y/N)’s voice was small and cracked. 

“What?” Dean asked. 

“I said ‘pull over’.” He spoke louder. 

Dean frowned and looked in the rearview mirror for a moment. Reluctantly, he pulled the Impala to the side of the backroads and placed the car in park. (Y/N) opened the door and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Dean and Sam looked at one another before they, too, got out of the car. Castiel soon followed. 

“(Y/N)!” Sam called. 

(Y/N)’s fists were clenched at his sides as he stormed down the road in long, smooth strides, away from the Impala, back towards the direction of town. 

“(Y/N), stop!” Dean hollered. 

(Y/N) didn’t listen. He kept walking. He only stopped when Castiel popped in front of him, hands placed on his shoulders. (Y/N) quickly brushed him off. 

“Get off me,” he growled, his voice not angry, but rather broken. 

He took a couple of steps away from Castiel, giving Dean and Sam enough time to catch up to them. (Y/N) stood between the three of them. He brought his hands up and wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself tightly. He shook his head and looked up at the night sky. 

It was a Waxing Crescent that night - God’s Thumbnail as his mother would have called it - and stars were placed meticulously in various parts of the sky. The good thing about the backroads was that there were no city lights to hide the true beauty of the sky by night. Every last constellation was visible. That was one thing that (Y/N) loved about living in the bunker. When he got tired, when he needed a break, he would walk outside, look up at the night sky, and just watch. Watch as the stars floated from one end to the other, watch as the moon shifted to welcome a new dawn. It was a mesmerizing sight. But, that night, it wasn’t comforting to him. Not like it should have been. 

“This is all my fault,” (Y/N) breathed out. He closed his eyes as his head dropped down. 

“(Y/N),” Sam reached forward, but (Y/N) pulled away before he could even touch him. 

“I was so stupid. So stupid to think that they changed. I just…I don’t know, I just had this little bit of hope inside of me that, after all these years, they would have seen me as their son. That they would have seen me for the man that I am. But I was wrong. I was so fucking stupid to believe that they would have changed. After everything that they did to me, after everything that they said to me, all I wanted was for them to tell me that everything would be okay, that they were going to stand by me through everything. That’s what parents are supposed to do, right? They’re supposed to protect their kids. They’re supposed to be by their sides through everything that they go through and they weren’t. They never were! They just sat there and berated me and threw me out because ‘how would the rest of the town look at us knowing that our daughter is nothing but a tranny piece of liberal trash’?” 

(Y/N)’s voice shook, and his eyes glimmered in the pale moonlight from tears that had appeared. 

“Well, you know what? I don’t need them! I don’t need those two washed-up, lowlife son of a bitches to look out for me. No, I got you three. I have three important men in my life who care for me, love me, and support me no matter what, even when I make a dumb decision on a hunt or when I make a fool out of myself trying to flirt with someone at a bar. I know that I can come back home to people who will be there for me no matter what. So you know what, Clara and Greg can go fuck themselves. They’re not my parents. They never were! I don’t need them!” 

His voice shifted to anger, but the shaking was still present. His tense shoulders relaxed and slouched. He reached a hand up to his face to wipe the tears away. His bottom lip began to tremble and, with his head cast down, he turned back towards the three of them. 

“How come they don’t love me?” 

Dean rushed over without a word and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), pulling him close to his chest. Sam was quick to move over to his side as well, his long arms overlapping his brother’s to embrace him. Castiel followed suit, hugging him more hesitantly than the others, but his grip was just as strong. (Y/N) collapsed in their arms, sobs falling from his lips as tears fell carelessly down his cheeks. 

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke through the sounds of (Y/N)’s sobs. He pulled away from him, as did Sam and Castiel. Sam and Castiel kept a hand firmly on (Y/N)’s back, while Dean’s hands moved to his shoulders. “Don’t cry over them. They’re not worth it.” Dean reached up and slowly brushed a tear away from (Y/N)’s cheek. “We’re your family now, and we would never treat you like that. You deserve so much better.” 

“Dean’s right,” Sam chimed in. “You’ve gone through so much. It takes a lot of courage for someone to come out like you did, and for them to just throw you out like that…” Sam shook his head in disapproval. “We love you, (Y/N), more than anything.” 

(Y/N) sniffled and wiped the rest of the tears away. His cheeks were stained with the wet remnants of their trails and his eyes were puffy and red. 

“I’m not too good with…words or comfort.” Castiel began, hesitantly. “But I believe that it was a courageous thing to come back to your hometown and speak to your parents, even if it didn’t turn out the way you had hoped for. It takes a lot for someone to face the people who have wronged them in the past, and I must commend you on your bravery. Even though you don’t have the support of your parents with you, as Sam and Dean have said, you still have us. We love you dearly, (Y/N). You are who you are meant to be, and no one can ever change that.” 

(Y/N) lips slowly curled into a small, weak smile. “Thank you, all of you. For everything that you have done for me.” 

“No, thank you,” Dean nodded. “Dinner and a show? At least the show wasn’t as dry as Clara’s pot roast.” 

“Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes.

(Y/N) let out a light laugh. “She was never good at making pot roast anyway.” 

“I’m a better cook than her, right?”

“By a mile.” 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Dean reached over and wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, pulling him close. “What do you say we head back home, order in, and watch one of those terrible movies you like.” 

“One of those shitty romcoms?” 

“If that’s what you wanna watch.” 

“And I can pick where we order in from?” 

“As long as it’s somewhere where I can get a salad,” Sam mumbled. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sammy.” (Y/N)’s smile widened.

Dean smirked and gestured towards the Impala. “Come on, let’s head home.” 

The four of them made their way back over to the car, each of them getting in their respective seats. The radio blasted Metallica, the tension having been lifted from the air. The Impala’s engine roared as it sped down the backroads, leaving behind a past of nothing but misery and heartbreak, and heading towards a future of love, acceptance, and compassion. 

.~.

The past is a crazy concept, isn’t it? When you think about it, some people share more good memories than bad ones. They cling to their past self and wish for a time when they could go back and relive the glory days. Others tend to forget their past and look towards the future, hoping for a new light that would bring nothing but happiness and joy. 

If you had told (Y/N) a week ago that he would be one of those people, he would have rolled his eyes and laughed in your face. The past had clung to him like the plague, dragging along with him everywhere he went. It crippled him, not only bringing his self-image down, but his self-worth as well. The words that Clara and Greg spoke to him that night were forever engrained in his mind. And while they lingered in the back of his head now and then, a louder, stronger, boisterous voice told him otherwise. Told him he was cared for. Told him he was worth it. Told him they loved him. Told him he was exactly the person that he was destined to be. It was the voices of the men that he loved dearly. 

No longer were his parents the source of his nightmares. Rather, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were the source of his hopes and dreams. They were the heroes in his story that fought back the monsters that threatened to take him out, the knights in shining armor that saved him from the highest room of the tallest tower. The ones that rescued him from the brink of despair. The ones that saved him from a lifetime of hate. They were his protectors.

They were his family. 

“A wise man once told me family don’t end in blood, but it doesn’t start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family’s there through the good, bad, all of it. They got your back even when it hurts. That’s family.”

[tra1nchi]

💋anon

Helloo <3 Here I am again.

May I ask you for ftm cheerleader reader (bttm obviously) x bully jock that secretly likes reader (and fucks him lol)

And yes, I am going to ask a lot of ftm reader <33

Ugh that's so good,,MINORS DNI!!,, Bttm ftm male reader,, Bully jock!! Praise,, Slight transphobia,,

It was coming up to your graduation!! You and your team have been working tirelessly to get your cheer routine correct!! Some of the girls are too busy flirting with him,,you need them to focus!! You want to leave your group with a bang!!

He always seemed to hate you,,ever since you were children,, bullying you for not wearing clothes that were not feminine enough or wanting to play with him instead of all your female friends!!!

When you came out,, you felt like he ignored you even more,, only tolerating you due to you both being on the same field during his matches,,winking at all your other team members except for you whenever your cheers finish!!

It was finally his last match,, something him and his team have been looking forward to all year,, before they all separate!!!

He looked towards the side to see the cheer team talking happily to eachother,, his eyes drifting to stare at the groups legs,, their skirts and shorts were incredibly short,,totally for the purpose of movement!!!

You gave it your all,,even as some of the girls were not taking it seriously,,You could feel everyone's eyes on you,,especially his,,you couldn't help but enjoy his stare,,

His team had lost and he was incredibly frustrated,,grabbing your wrist as he walked past you!!! >□< he was so rough as he dragged you into the changing room,,shoving you against the wall!!!

"Spread your legs, this is all your fault for distracting me" He grunts out,,grabbing at your soft thighs through your shorts,, hoisting your body up like you weighed nothing!!

His hand rested at the back of your neck as his other free hand wandered down through the waistband of your shorts,, "Good boy, Did dancing for everyone make you this wet hm?" He chuckles,,his fingers rubbing down at your folds!!

Flipping you over,,making you lean on the wall despite your protests as he pressed a lingering kiss to your nape!! "I always liked you, you know? My own little cumdump" Pulling down your shorts in one swift movement.

His cock strained against his own pants,,begging to be shoved inside of your boypussy but he neglected it focusing on fingering you to oblivion!! He had a weak mind,,much to his dismay!!

Lifting one of your legs up to rub his cockhead against your pussy,, smirking at the sound of your whimper!!! "No condom, I hope that's okay" He purrs into your ear,,shoving himself inside of you with no remorse!!

[allzelemonz]

Might As Well: Negan Smith X FTM Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 4, Forced Proximity Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘guy’ Physical Sex: AFAB, neutral wording used except in warnings section Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Negan says trans people are hot, Negan being gay, Negan has a dick size fixation, Negan is his own warning, cave in, trapped together, trans reader, trans male reader, vaginal sex, mention of pregnancy possibility but nothing positive, brief masturbation, top Negan and bottom Reader, mention of Reader being thick, mention of future oral sex Summary: While scouting through a cave system, you and Negan get cut off from the others.

The cave-in happened without a lot of warning. Just enough rumbling for everyone to panic, not nearly enough to get Negan out. The rocks fell, filling the whole passage and leaving the rest of the scout team on the other side while you and Negan stand between the fallen rocks and a natural dead end. You can faintly hear Simon and Regina shouting at the rest to shut up, but nothing beyond that.

You look back at Negan, eyes searching for injuries on your boss. “You good?”

He nods. “Dandy, just fucking dandy.”

“Alright!” Simon shouts from the other side of the rocks. “We’re gonna need some tools, probably wood to prop up the cave, get the fuck back to the truck.”

Negan smirks, leaning against the wall. “That’s my Simon, getting shit done.”

“Still gonna be a while.” You run a hand along the rocks. “Shit’s pretty thick, boss.”

“It ain’t the only thing.” Negan mutters, tilting his head as he looks you over. “Would you be absolutely offended if I said I wanted to stuff whatever hole you got, man?”

“Funny, boss.” You mutter, still scanning the rocks to find some kind of opening.

“You think I’d joke about that?” Negan huffs. “You’re a good lieutenant, don’t get me wrong, but my first pick for you was husband. And since we got a while, well… we might as well, huh?”

You look back at him, finding his face oddly steady as opposed to that typical bullshit expression.

“Now.” He sighs, setting Lucielle aside and starting to unbuckle his belt. “Either I beat it to your handsome fucking face or I get to stick this uncomfortable problem between your legs. But I am gonna get off either way, cause you’ve had me hard for like an hour.”

You watch with a bit of a swirling mind as he pulls himself from his pants and starts to stroke.

“Feel free to jump in.” He groans lightly as his head rests back against the cave wall.

You feel a dryness in your throat, a throbbing below the waist, and the immediate image of your boss fucking you into the rocks beneath your feet.

“Okay…” Your voice comes out scratchy and low enough that, in the back of your mind, you wish it would always sound like that.

He pauses, smiling over at you. “Any boundaries I need to know about?”

You crinkle your brow, not fully expecting him to care about something like that.

“Look, man…” He sighs, shaking out his hand. “You ain’t the first guy in that situation I’ve had and you definitely won’t be the last. All I wanna know is if I can touch everything without a lotta grief or if I should just hold your hips and fuck.”

It surprises you for half a second before you realize that, of course, Negan has not only fucked the occasional non-traditional guy but knows how to make that fuck go over well enough that he can empty his balls. “Second one.” You mutter, unbuttoning your pants.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You okay on your stomach?”

You nod, carefully kneeling on the rocks and pulling your pants down your thighs.

“And as far as I’m concerned your dick would probably be huge.” He chuckles as he takes your hips and guides you to prop them up as you settle on your stomach. “You got the biggest balls kinda attitude, but it’s like you don’t give a shit and that’s hot as fuck for me.”

“Thanks…” You mutter quietly, trying not to feel any particular way about the small affirmation.

“Anytime.” He presses his tip up against you, dragging it gently. “Maybe we can find you a nice big dick so you can fuck me next time. One that suits you, gotta be at least eight inches and nice round nuts for a guy as hot as you.”

He presses in, sinking in one thrust as he groans and squeezes your hips. Your back arches on instinct, the filling sensation making everything throb and heat in seconds. Your hand goes to your mouth as he starts to move, not wanting to make anything echo through the other caves.

“Taking it like a champ.” Negan mutters. “Fuck, I can get real deep with you.” He grinds into you, his balls pressing firmly against your skin. “Ya gotta let me cum inside, baby, it’s too good. Dr. Carson’s got pills and shit, just say I can.”

You nod lightly. “It’s fine, boss.”

“Yeah…” He picks up his pace, hunching over you to get deeper. “That’s my guy, huh? Giving the boss everything he can.”

You press your head against the cool rock floor and bite deep into your hand to keep the sounds at bay. Negan’s good. He knows how to fuck and fuck good. Every shove forward now brings you close and it’s one final thrust that brings Negan over that gets you too. He floods you, warm and already leaking out around his dick as it’s settled as deep in you as it can go. You shutter and groan into your hand as your body milks him dry. The two of you lay for a moment, Negan lowers your hips to rest on the ground and hums into your neck as he rests lightly on top of you.

“Next time we’re stuck, I’m sucking whatever dick you got.” He mutters against your skin, giving you a small kiss. “I know there’s shit to make it bigger, and I’ll be damned if I can’t find something. You got no idea how much I wanna get my mouth around it.”

“You plan on getting us stuck in a cave again?” You mumble, a bit tired from the intensity as you lazily shift under him to get more comfortable.

“You could just come see me.” Negan smiles against your neck. “I’d suck you off anytime.”

[l1tw1ck]

Getting Jealous

bottom!ftm!yandere Keishin Ukai x top!masc Reader

☆ Word Count: 800 ☆

pretend it's still february....💀

↳ [Event Request] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Semi Public Sex, Coach-Player Relationship, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Creampie

It was a typical Valentine's Day at Karasuno, gifts were being handed out and confessions were being made. Keishin would get a chocolate or two but you? Since you're on the volleyball team, you'd get an entire locker full.

Keishin would open it in between classes and throw everything out, not wanting you to receive gifts from anyone but him. Maybe it's a bit much for your own coach to be obsessed with you, but you don't really mind. You love him anyway.

He thought it'd be over after school but he forgot about the girls who would invade the gym during practice and cheer the team on. It wouldn't have been a problem, other than it being a nuisance and a distraction, if it weren't for the ones who specifically went after you.

They'd offer water from their own water bottles or suggest helping to wipe sweat off your forehead. That earned them a fiery glare from the coach but they pressed on and you rejected them each time.

Regardless, it didn't help him ease his jealousy and he was furious by the end of practice. No one went near him in fear of being yelled at. He ended practice early and sent you a text to stay in the locker room.

You look up from your seat, greeted with a pouting Keishin. "You've been mad all day." You stand up and pull him close to you.

"Can you blame me?" He frowns.

"You know I don't like any of those people, right? I prefer a mature, older man." You kiss his jaw. "You're hotter than all of them combined. You're mine, Keishin. All mine." You unzip his tracksuit and pull it off.

Keishin grins smugly as you strip him down. That's right, he's yours.

You sit him down on the bench and spread his legs. You kneel down and bury your head in between them, lapping at his wetness before properly eating him out.

He's the only one who gets to feel your tongue in between their legs.

"Yes- more~" Keishin moans, holding onto your head.

The only one who gets to feel your hands gripping their thighs.

Keishin rolls his hips into your face, not hiding his pleasure at all. He throws his head back and moans your name. "Like that—" He lets out a loud cry, one that makes you wonder if anyone heard it.

He comes on your tongue while breathing heavily, body shaking as he comes down from his high.

You pull away, freeing your boner from its confines before bringing your boyfriend into the air, his arms and legs wrapping around you.

No one else gets to feel your strong hands on their body like Keishin does.

You slowly slide him down onto your length. "You always feel so good, Keishin." You kiss his cheek. He moans in response, hearing you say that always makes him melt, no matter how many times you say it.

You raise him up before forcing him down on your length, fucking him roughly. Keishin throws his head back and moans unabashedly. He cries out your name as you speed up, bucking your hips up into him. Not a thought crosses his mind as you fuck him. It feels too good for him to even utter a proper word. It doesn't help much that he already came earlier, he feels so sensitive it's clear he won't be able to last any longer. He loves being overstimulated so he doesn't say anything to you, enjoying the overwhelmingly good feeling coursing through his veins.

No one else gets to be fucked stupid on your cock like Keishin.

Keishin rolls his eyes back, babbling something before his orgasm comes crashing down. He manages to say, “Ke- keep- ah~! Yes~!” as your thrusts become more brutal. You start to use him like a cock sleeve, just the way he likes it. Drool spills down his chin as you fuck into his overly sensitive cunt, the pleasure too good for him to make you stop. Not that the idea of stopping you crossed his mind anyway.

You fuck into him like you’ll never see him again, pounding into him with more aggression than normal. Your way of assuring him that he's the only one for you. You dig your nails into his skin, marking his soft body. “I love you, Keishin-” You groan, reaching your peak. He cries out happily, he’s unable to speak properly thanks to being overstimulated but you already know his response. Your thrusts become slower but remain hard as you bring yourself to your completion.

Your movements eventually come to a stop, your cock buried deep inside Keishin as you flood his walls with your spend.

Neither of you are ready to stop just yet though. Especially not Keishin.

[cumulo-stratus]

Spencer Reid x fencer!Reader

(GIF NOT MINE)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male!reader

Description: reader is a fencer and is competing in the 2023 mens saber nationals and spencer invites the team to cheer on his boyfriend. (Could be read as ftm) (Also spencer is like low key autistic in this)

CW: slight swearing

A/N: i am a saber fencer, and i have been for years lol, so dont worry abt any mistakes in technique although its not gonna be accurate of an official tournament because it just makes more sense for the plot. (but if yall have any questions feel free to ask in the comments!), and tbh this fic is completely self indulgent lol, bc i couldn’t find anything like this so i decided to make my own :)

(NOT FULLY PROOF READ)

3rd person POV:

The days was finally here, after months of training and practicing for hours every week. There were so many nights Spencer had seen you walk through the door so tired and sore that you coud barely stand too many times to count. But it was all worth it, because today, Y/N Y/L/N was competing for wold champion.

Spencer decided to surprise his boyfriend by showing up with the whole team, decked out in French flags, showing their pride for him and his team. Y/Ns first semi-final bout was starting soon, and spencer was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he and his friends filed into the reserved seats for people related to the fencers. Spencer starts rocking in his seat and Derek looks over at him and says “hey pretty boy, you seem pretty excited, but you’re gonna fall out of your seat if you keep rocking like that!” With a wink. Spencer looks down shyly and says “Sorry, im just excited for his first bout.”

“Dont worry about it genius, im just teasing.” Derek responds. Then Rossi speaks up with “Am I the only one who’s confused as hell on what a bout is?” Small laughs erupted from the team at Rossis comment. Spencers eyes light up as he gets ready to tell him all about what he learned in his research of fencing. “A bout is combat between two fencers in competition. When score is not kept, friendly combat between two fencers is referred to as an assault. A single bout can go to 5, or 15 depending on the situation.” Spencer stated as if he was citing a book, because he probably was.

Finally the lights over the audience dimmed and the lights come over the strip. And then the 4 fencers came out of the back in their whites with blades and masks raised in the air. When Y/N finally comes out last, the entire team cheers and yells and whistles at the top of their lungs, even though the team got a few weird looks for their enthusiasm they didn’t care. And when Spencer and Y/N made eye contact Y/N blew him a little kiss, and spencer practically melted. “Ooh! Looks like pretty boy over here's got heart eyes for his little boyfriend!” Said Derek teasingly and spencer gets even more flustered. But theyre conversation is cut off as the first 2 fencers come out onto the strip, and the team got excited looking for your French flag patch and imposing Ukrainian coach who they’d heard a lot about from Spencer, (who’d in turn heard from you) but failed to find it, and they realized since there was 4 semi finalists there would be at least 1 bout without you in it. But the profilers still watched the bout intently, amazed at the ref calling points for seemingly simultaneous touches, with spencer explaining what the refs thought processes most likely was as they watched. And finally the bout came to a close with the Hungarian Aron Szilagyi losing 15-12. And then came out Y/N, ready for his first bout of the day. He was facing Ziad El-Sissy from Egypt. After about 10 minutes of hard fencing the score was 14-14. And after a small break and talking to his coach, Y/N walked back up to his en garde line and shook his arms out and took a deep breath in before going to en garde position. "En garde! Prêt! Allé!" And you burst forward convincing your opponent that your were going to attack, so in return they lunged forward with a double advance lunge. But you knew that's what he was going to do, so you made him fall short with a couple retreats before pushing him to end of the strip and striking with a quick and strong lunge to the chest. The crowd went wild at your attack and the referee called the point, " attack touché, point!" With their left arm raised towards you. You had won the bout and you were so happy. After meeting with your coach taking a water break and watching the next bout, it was your turn again. This was your chance to win, and become the national champion. The team went wild when they recognized the familiar patch on the young mans knickers and the imposing Ukrainian man standing off to the side. Y/N was facing Sandro Bazadze from Georgia. At first he was losing, bad. You could see spencer and the rest of the team sitting quietly watching in the hopes that the score would improve. It was currently 10-4 and you were down, but slowly you started gaining back points. A feint attack here, a quick sharp attack in the middle, a long attack down the strip with a sharp lunge to finish it off. And suddenly the score was 13-12, you. And with every point you won, spencer and his friends cheered louder.

The score was 14-13 and you just needed one more point, the audience fell silent as the ref called, “en garde, prêt, Allé!” And you sped forward with your arm starting to extend, and then you pounced into a lunge and the referee called halt, to the crowd it looked like a Simultaneous. But as soon as you heard the word you stopped and immediately came closer to the edge of the raised strip where the referee was standing slightly below you, your mask off to the side, discarded and forgotten in anticipation for the call. And as you and your opponent discussed with he referee, spencer began to wring his fingers so tight it was hard to tell if any blood was getting to them, he seemed more nervous than you. But finally the referee took a step back and announced “attack, touche, point!” With their arm raised above their head to their left. That was your side, it was your point. Spencer jumped up and start he’d cheering loudly with the rest of the crowd as you jumped and started crying tears of joy as you hugged your opponent who you’d known from your old days at junior Olympics. Spencer could believe it, he was so happy for you that the muscles in his jaw hurt from smiling so big.

(TIME SKIP)

Spencer's POV:

I had watched the medal ceremony and I couldn't wait to see Y/N. I decided to meet him in the locker room area before he went out and got crowded by people. I just wanted a moment alone with him and I was gonna get it.

when I walked into the room y/ns back was turned to me while he took off his lemme (pronounced le-may) and all that remained where his whites. I walked up behind him quietly and hugged his waist while snuggling my head into his neck despite his sweatiness

y/ns POV:

I felt arms snake around my waist and immediately knew it was Spencer. "Bonjour mon Cherie. Qu'est ce que tu fais ici? Tu n'as pas besoin de m'embrasser au fait, je suis très en sueur Chérie." (Hello my darling, what are you doing here? You don't have to hug me by the way, I'm very sweaty.) I said with a smile in my mother tongue as I was to tired to remember speak in English. But Spencer didn't mind, he knew French anyways. "Ça c'est bon mon amour, Tu as fait un incroyable, et tu mérites un câlin" (it's okay my love, you did amazing and you deserve a hug) Spencer responded while turning me around and unzipping my jacket for me. I kissed him and mumbled a "merci" as he pulled it off my shoulders and folded it up to put in my bag. After placing down the carefully folded jacket he lifted his head and placed his lips on mine. I could smell the faint scent of coffee and the paint he had used to draw the flag on his face. I licked his bottom lip asking for entrance as our lips danced together in sync as our tongues danced to their own tune, we were making out.

(Back with the team)

"What is taking them so loong?! I have a figurine of them fencing I had specially made!" Complained Garcia as she held up the figurine that had yet to be given to y/n. "mama it's a couple in a locker room what do you think they were doing?" Derek said with a sly smirk. "Ughhh I don't need that image in my head right now!" Replied the technical analyst just as y/n and Spencer walked up to them continuing their conversation in french forgetting about the language barrier between them and the rest of the team. "Ce dernier point était incroyable cependant!"(that last point was incredible though!) spencer said. "Je sais! Je pensais que j'allais le perdre!" (I know! I thought that I was going to lose it!) you responded. Hotch cleared his throat loudly and looked at the young pair. You both looked at each other looking like they just been caught. “Déso- sorry!” (Sor-) you apologize. Morgan just shakes his head and chuckles. Finally Rossi speaks up, “well it seams like congratulations are in order.” And starts to make his way over to Y/N for a hug but gets stopped partway there. Y/N put his hands out in the universal signal for stop, and said “thanks for the congratulations but i think everyone should stay at least a couple feet away cus i am stinky! I dont wanna kill anyone’s noses”

“That didnt seem to stop pretty boy over here” said Derek with a smirk gesturing to his mussed up hair and smudged face paint. Both spencers and Y/Ns face turned bright red as the rest of the team laughed at the teasing.

(Small time skip)

After lots of congratulations, good jobs, high fives, and handshakes from the team The group started walking out to their cars after deciding to meet up at a pizza place for celebratory dinner afterwards and Y/N decided to lean on his boyfriends shoulder after his knees buckled multiple times in just a few minutes (istg this happens to me all time after fencing and especially after tournaments). When they got to the car and sat down with he bag in the back, Y/N fell asleep almost as soon as he sat down. Spencer looked over at his boyfriend and admired him in his candid state. “World champion…” mumbled spencer to himself with a small smile, he was just so proud of y/n. And spencer thought about that the whole ride back to the hotel.

The end… :)

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hi!! You're really cool :D I was wondering if maybe (if you're comfortable) you could write a Penelope Garcia x Ftm! Reader? Maybe the reader is very strong and "macho" and he is maybe a suspect in a case? None of the team knows it, but when Reader's alibi is his girlfriend (or best friend if that works) Penelope Garcia, the team is like what- Idk just a silly idea I had. Feel free to ignore this <3

Hi! Thanks aha! Also this is a super cute idea! :)

Warnings: needles, injections, testosterone shots, sheriff’s an ass, mentions of past arrests, mentions an attack, hate crime, mentions of broken bones, mentions of being attacked because of gender identity

Word Count: 2342

Penelope’s heart sank when your name popped up your screen. She forced it aside. There were plenty of other names on the list. Just because your name was on it, didn’t make you the killer. But she kept refining the list and your name sat, unmoving at the top. Eventually, she ran out of filters to put through the mass spec, and so, she had to turn the list over to Mr Bossman. She wasn’t even allowed to warn you. She huffed as she hit send on the email. Hotch immediately replied, asking for a deep-dive into your history. Guilt swarmed through Garcia’s stomach. She couldn’t not do it. And so, reluctantly, she began to gather the information. Twenty minutes later she received a message from Morgan that they had arrested the suspect. Garcia needed a coffee. 

You were confused to say the least when they arrested you. It made no sense, you hadn’t done anything, you had no clue who ‘Andrew Macey’ was. You were just working out at your gym when they strolled in and arrested you! You didn’t even get to finish your session - or change clothes! 

You gave a small huff, shifting in your chair. They could have at least given you a comfy chair. You knew their tactics, you weren’t an idiot, you noticed the drop in temperature, that they were leaving you on your own to make you feel nervous, intimidated. It wasn’t working, if anything, you were just bored out of your skull. You looked at the two-way mirror, standing up, and walked towards it. Breathing lightly onto it, you drew a smiley face in the condensation and gave them a grin.

Morgan huffed a laugh, “Is he for real?”

“He seems too relaxed,” Spencer noted, Aaron found himself agreeing.

“Let’s go talk to him,”

“I thought we were leaving him to stew?” The Sheriff asked.

“There’s no point,” Rossi said, “He’s relaxed, that tactic’s not going to work with him,”

You sat back down, resorting to counting the tiles on the wall opposite you. 

The door opened and closed, revealing a tall man in a suit (who introduced himself as Agent Hotchner) and the Sheriff (who’s name you couldn’t be bothered to remember).

“Where were you Thursday night?” Agent Hotchner’s voice stern. You stared at him.

“I was at my girlfriend’s apartment,” You answered. 

“Somehow I doubt that,” The Sheriff snorted.

“I was! You can ask her!” You argued, folding your arms. This was ridiculous!

“What’s her name?”

“Penelope Garcia,” You really didn’t have time for this. You looked at the time, it was 7pm, nearly time for your testosterone shot. If you missed it, it would screw up the whole routine. You shut your eyes as you sighed.

“I’m sorry, have you got other places to be?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” You snapped at the Sheriff. This man was simply an idiot, you decided. “So if we could just speed this along-”

You watched as Agent Hotchner looked at the mirror and sighed, before exiting the room, to watch from behind the glass. The Sheriff hung back, “You’re not fooling anybody. I know you did it,” He snarled, “I’ll get you for it,”

“Respectfully, I did absolutely nothing,” You stated. 

“You’ve been arrested on multiple occasions,” 

You rolled your eyes, “If you look closely you’ll see that those occasions were self defence,”

“And what exactly would you be defending yourself from?” 

“Other people? What sort of question is that?” 

Aaron turned to Morgan, “Call Garcia,” He said, “I want her on the next plane here,” Derek gave a nod, rushing out of the room. 

“I know these men,” The Sheriff said, looking the file over, “They are good people. I do not believe for a second that they would attack someone without good reason,”

“I’m sure they thought it was a good reason, doesn’t mean it was though,” You answered with a shrug, “Besides, why are you so caught up on that arrest? It was declared self-defence and I ended up in the hospital after that with multiple fractures. If you’re going on past arrests, you should really be speaking to the men that started it,”

“He does have a point,” Rossi stated. 

“And what, exactly, was the reason for attacking you?”

“They recognised me from school,” You said, vaguely. “Only I looked a lot different back then,”

“And what does this have to do with anything?”

You don’t answer immediately, weighing up whether you think the information is important enough to disclose. For whatever reason, they didn’t know you were trans. “I’m transgender. They disagreed with ‘how I live my life’ or whatever. Really, they just had a crush on me when we were teens and they got insecure that it made them gay,” The Sheriff scoffed in disbelief. “Scoff all you want, it doesn’t change what happened,”

Seeing the anger in the Sheriff’s eyes, Aaron joined you both back in the room. “Am I free to go, yet?”

“Not just yet, we’re confirming your alibi,” He said and you gave him a nod. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“I, er, need my testosterone,” You said, “It’s in the bathroom cabinet,” 

“Alright, I’ll have someone pick that up for you,”

“Thank you,” 

The team (and Sheriff) gathered on the other side of the glass. “He’s dating Garcia?” Morgan found himself asking.

“Apparently,” JJ said, “That’s not who I thought her boyfriend was,”

“Me neither,” Emily chimed.

“You knew she had a boyfriend?” Spencer asked. 

“Yeah, came up at girls' night,” JJ shrugged.

“I just didn’t imagine him being so… Macho,”

Hotch shook his head slightly, "While we're waiting for Garcia, we should continue to go over evidence with the basis that (Y/N)'s innocent," He said, "How far out is she?"

"She boarded the plane, so should be here within the hour," Morgan said, Hotch nodded. 

“Okay, Morgan, Rossi, revisit the crime scenes, see if we missed anything,” Hotch said, “JJ, Emily, retrace the victims’ footsteps, Spencer, work more on the geographical profile, Sheriff - maybe take a break, you’ve been going non-stop for days. I’m going to head to the airport and pick Garcia up.” The team nodded and split up.  

Garcia knew she was in deep shit when she saw Hotch at the terminal to pick her up. “Sir,” She said, Hotch nodded and they silently began their journey to the car. They got in and buckled up, still silent. “I know I should have told you but-”

“Yes, you should have,” Hotch said, looking at Garcia briefly before turning back to the road. 

“But then I would have been taken off the case,” Garcia finished, “And I knew that (Y/N) didn’t do it so I thought there wasn’t any harm in me not saying anything.”

“You left out that he was transgender,”

“It’s not my place to out it,”

“Except it’s your job,”

“Well, yes, but-”

“I understand why you did it,” Hotch said, “I do, just… Don’t do it again,” Penelope nodded.

“You got it, you’re the boss,” She replied.

“We need to go to (Y/N)’s apartment,” Hotch said, “He needs his testosterone,” 

Penelope’s eyes widened, “I completely forgot it was Monday!” She exclaimed, face palming, “He takes it at nine. I will also be grabbing him some clothes,”

Hotch nodded, not questioning it - he knew Penelope would have her reasons. “How is the team taking it?” She asked as Aaron pulled into a parking spot.

“Good, just shocked,”

“Shocked? Why shocked?”

“He’s very… The word Emily used was ‘macho’,” Hotch said, Garcia gave a laugh as she nodded.

“He is, isn’t he?” She smiled. “He’s sweet though,”

“And treating you well?” When Garcia nodded, Hotch smiled, “Good.”

Fishing the key out of her purse, Penelope unlocked the door, walking in - Hotch following her. “I’ll let you grab whatever he needs,” Hotch said.

“Won’t be two ticks,” Penelope said as she began to faff about, gathering bits and pieces you would need. Ten minutes, she approached Hotch again. She had grabbed a spare change of clothes (jogging bottoms, t-shirt, and a large hoodie), a tight fitting sports bra and a binder (she knew that you didn’t bind whilst working out, but that you might want to later), she also grabbed some TransTape just in case you didn’t want to wear the binder but still wanted to bind. She had also grabbed your hormones and a small plush turtle about the size of her hand. “Alright, I am good to go,”

On the drive back, Hotch had asked Penelope what she had been doing on Thursday. “I was with (Y/N),” 

“Until what time?” When Penelope glared at him, he huffed slightly, “Just to eliminate him as a suspect,”

“Until ten that night, then he had to catch a flight back,” Hotch nodded. They would have to check with the airport and then they would be able to release him. Unfortunately, he would have to ask someone else to check now that they knew Penelope was dating the suspect. Which would take at least an hour. 

You blew out a puff of air. This was dull as fuck. You turned your head, looking at the mirror, “Anyone there?”

“Yes?” A timid voice asked. 

“Huh, I was just expecting to be speaking to myself,” You said with a laugh, “What are you up to?”

“A geographical profile,”

“Cool,” You said, “How does that work?”

“I mark down each crime on the map in hopes of narrowing down where the unsub lives,” Spencer explained.

“That’s cool,” There was a small pause, “Please don’t tell me I live in that narrowed down area - that’s the last thing I need,” Spencer gave a chuckle.

“No comment,”

The door squeaked open, you turned towards it, half expecting to see the Sheriff. Your face lit up when Penelope walked in, you felt like your brain cells were dying off one by one whilst stuck in this room. “There she is,” You cheered, causing Penelope to roll her eyes, cheeks blushing a light pink. “I would have gotten you flowers if I knew I was going to see you today,” You joked, Penelope rolled her eyes yet again. 

“They’re just checking flight records and you should be good to go,” She said, placing a bag in front of you. “I brought reinforcements,”

“Should I be scared?” You teased.

“You’re such a tease,” Penelope laughed, “I brought clothes, meds - except Bossman has that incase you are the killer, which we all know you aren’t, and try and stab me with the needle or something-” You opened your mouth to argue how ridiculous that was but Penelope continued, “and Gregory,”

You grinned, previous statements forgotten, “You brought Gregory?!” 

“Who’s Gregory?” Morgan whispered on the other side of the mirror, Spencer, JJ, and Emily all gave a shrug.

Penelope reached into the bag, pulling out the plush toy, “Oh yeah,” Penelope said, “I couldn’t not bring Gregory,”

“Ayy, Gregory!” You cheered. Penelope set him down on the table as the door opened, the Sheriff, Hotch and Rossi walking in.

“Er, Garcia, why’s there a turtle on the table?” Rossi asked.

“It’s Gregory,” You answered.

“It’s the Turtle of Testosterone,” Garcia responded. 

“Speaking of which,” Hotch said, placing another bag on the table, “Testosterone,”

“Thank you,” You looked at the time, “I should probably get started on that. Do you guys have a sink?” 

“You can’t do it yourself,” The Sheriff said. “You’re a suspect - our main suspect - until the records come back. Someone else will have to do it for you.”

Your jaw dropped, “Is he for real?” You asked Penelope, who turned to Hotch (who gave a subtle nod).

“Yep,” Penelope sighed, “It’s alright, I’ll do it, right sir?”

“Yes,” Hotch answered, turning to the Sheriff when he began to protest, “Garcia’s a valuable member of the team, despite dating the Mr (L/N), she still gave us the information needed. She’s more than trustworthy enough to do this.”

“How do we know she’s not in on it? That it’s not their plan?”

You snorted loudly, “Oh yeah, I became trans, faked it for years, so that if I committed a murder it would be the perfect escape,” You said sarcastically. “You’re honestly ridiculous,”

“We will be here while she administers the hormone,” Hotch said. 

“Fine,” The Sheriff muttered before leaving the room.

“He’s a real charmer,” Penelope muttered.

“Do I have competition?” You laughed. 

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” 

Garcia was motioned out of the room by Hotch to wash her hands and find a pair of gloves, leaving you and Rossi alone.

“You holding up okay, Kid?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

Rossi shrugged, “Sheriff’s a bit of a jerk,”

“Oh, yeah,” You answered, “Met a lot of people like him, he’s not that bad,”  

Penelope and Hotch returned moments later, Penelope putting on a pair of gloves. “Bit lucky I’m wearing shorts, huh?” 

Penelope chuckled, “Come on, get your thighs out,”

You gasped, “Right here in public?”

“Oh shut up,” She grinned as she sat down opposite you, wiping an alcohol pad over the (now exposed) area. You stared at her as she concentrated, a small smile painted on your face. She filled the syringe with the dose, making sure there were no bubbles before positioning the needle. 

“I love you,” Penelope grinned, looking up at you. 

“I love you too- Ow!” You hissed, “Sorry, sorry, I’m fine, caught me off guard,”

Penelope chuckled, “That’s the whole idea.” She paused, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You replied, “Yesterday was leg day,”

“Oh get over it,” Penelope poked, handing you Gregory.

“Ay, Greg, my man!” You laughed. 

Spencer poked his head through the door, “Flight records came back, he’s clear,”

“You’re free to go,” Hotch stated. 

You smirked, turning to the Sheriff, “Ha,”

Penelope sighed deeply, “My sweet Muffin, you’re not supposed to antagonise the Sheriff,”

“Ugh, fine,” You said, standing up with a groan. Penelope looked at you with an exasperated look, “It was a hard leg day!”

[fly-flower-fanfics]

I liked the previous one i requested so much I wanted to come to you for my new request. May i request a Spencer Reid x Male/ftm reader (your choice) where the MC has previously long hair and one day he walks to work with a buzz cut? The rest is up to you. And thank you just for reading the ask

Absolutely! I love this honestly. I’ll try and do it justice for you. 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 I’m also sorry it took so long. Things have been hectic lately... I know it’s not a super long fic, but I hope that it’s still worth the wait!

Buzz Off

Spencer Reid x Trans Male Reader

Warnings: Slight transphobia mentioned

~~~~~~~~~

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Today was the day I was actually doing it. I was actually getting a hair cut. Not that it was a big deal to anyone else, but it was to me, making today a big day.

I had been out as trans for almost fifteen years now, coming out when I was sixteen years old. The team didn’t really know I was trans as I had gotten top surgery and started testosterone by then.

The only ones who knew I was trans was Spencer and Hotch. Spencer knew because I wanted to be honest about my past with him. Hotch knew because I’d had to explain some slight complications in my old information.

However, regardless of all that, I never got rid of my long, almost waist length hair.

I was always holding onto a little piece of my past. My parents had been very transphobic toward me, never allowing me to cut my hair or buy masculine clothing. I had to do everything all by myself once I had moved out. Yet I kept my long hair in an attempt to please my parents even after I changed.

It didn’t work, and they dropped all contact with me. Today, I had finally gotten up the courage to cut my hair as I had always wanted to: a buzz cut. Nothing too dramatic, but dramatic enough to match my personality. And it was long overdue for a change.

I opened my eyes, smiling a bit to myself as I got out of the car and locked it. I hadn’t yet gotten a call from Hotch saying I needed to come in, so I hoped I’d have enough time to get this hair cut.

Once I sat in the chair and the coat-like covering was draped over me, I couldn’t stop smiling. I explained to the hair dresser, Debi, exactly what I wanted, and she was obviously excited for me. That made me feel all the more excited for it myself. I had been going to her for years and for years she had been trying to get me to loosen up and cut my hair.

We had been high school friends, so she knew all about my transition and why I never had cut my hair. But now, she was super excited, hyping me up the whole time.

I kept my eyes closed most of the time, not wanting to spoil the surprise. I was hoping, praying, that it would look good on me. It was hard to focus on the doubts when Debi kept saying how handsome I looked and how Spencer was absolutely going to melt when he saw me.

Spencer and I had been dating for about a year now. He knew of my being trans and how my parents treated me. He never met them, and granted, he didn’t want to. However, he fully supported me not cutting my hair, even though he wasn’t a huge fan of why I wasn’t.

“You’re all set, hun!” Debi exclaimed, putting her razor down. She stood in front of me as I opened up my eyes. “Are you ready?!”

I nodded eagerly, and she stepped aside, allowing me to look in the large mirror in front of me. My jaw dropped as I saw my reflection.

It was perfect.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached up to touch the shaved spots. The short hair looked absolutely perfect on me, and I’d be lying if my self esteem didn’t skyrocket because of it.

“Thank you so much, Debi. I love it. I should’ve listened to you sooner.”

She gave me a pointed look, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling as well. “Did I not tell you so?”

At that moment, my phone went off. I checked it, seeing as it was for work. “You did, Debi. But duty calls. Let me pay you so I can get outta here.”

Within three minutes, I was back on the road. I was smiling the whole time I drove. Part of me felt a little guilty for being so giddy since there had been a murder, but I eased my conscience by reminding myself I was giddy over my own personal experiences and the team seeing me, not the murder itself. I only wanted to see the team’s reactions.

I walked into the bullpen, my eyes darting around wildly as I tried to avoid eye contact with everyone. Suddenly, I felt very, very shy, and I was overly aware of the cool air on the back of my neck. Has it always been this cold in here?

“Oh. My. Goodness.” Garcia was the first to notice me. She rushed up to me, a bright smile on her face. “Oh! Look at you!”

Her excited exclamations tugged over JJ and Emily’s attention. Both of them smiled at me.

“Hey, lookin’ good, Y/N,” JJ said. “Suits you.”

“I like it. Different than what I’m used to seeing you with, but it looks really good on you,” Emily said, nodding in approval.

“Thanks, guys,” I replied with a light blush dusting my cheeks.

Derek was the next to come in and notice me. “Hey, hey, hey! Look at you! Gettin’ all snazzy with a new hairdo. New you; I’m digging it.”

I laughed and nudged him with my shoulder as he reached out to fluff what was left of my hair. “Thanks, Derek.”

Hotch came in, took a glance at me, and gave me a small smile and nod. “Ready for work?” It wasn’t much of a reaction, but after working with Hotch for this long, I knew that was his approval. He was proud of me.

All of us got up to go to the conference room when a soft gasp took my attentions way from Hotch and the others.

Spencer was standing behind me, his lips parted in a slight shock. It then turned into a large smile as he walked up to me and took my hands in his.

“You did it,” he mumbled softly, bringing a hand up to my cheek.

“Yeah,” I breathed out softly. “It was time. Long overdue, if I’m being honest.”

He ran his hand up the side of my face, rubbing it over my head. His smile widened, if that was even possible. “God, you look so good.”

My cheeks darkened with a blush. “Yeah. I think I’ll miss the man bun, though. Maybe at a later date, I’ll get it back. But for now? For me? Yeah... I do look good.”

Spencer pulled me into a tight hug, placing a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. So proud,” he whispered.

Tears pricked my eyes. It was so satisfying and freeing to let that last but of past me go. To let it disappear forever. To finally be me. I clutched his shirt tightly, reveling in his soft praises.

“Thank you, Spence.”

A throat cleared, and the two of us separated, seeing Hotch standing outside the door of the conference room. He gestured to the file in his hand with his eyes.

“I am very glad you guys had this moment together. It’s a good move for you, too, Y/N. But evil does not wait for a haircut. Please, both of you, join us.”

My entire face heated, and I nodded quickly. “O-of course. Sorry, sir.”

Hotch gave me a small smile before disappearing back into the room.

I took Spencer’s hand. “I guess we better get in there; he is right.”

Spencer gave my hand a small squeeze and pressed another kiss onto my forehead. “He is. Maybe we can celebrate later tonight after the case.”

I laughed a little bit as we walked to the room. “Don’t have so much hope for the ease of this case. You should know better, Spence! You of all people.”

He let out a light laugh. “Perhaps. I’m just really happy for you.”

I took a seat beside him around the table as Penelope began to show the pictures and explained what we knew about the case.

I was happy for me, too.

[shitimashamedtolike]

A Bad Idea Gone Wrong

Michael Myers x Reader

(reader is ftm, but doesn't effect story or pov)

This was a bad idea.

Correction, this was a terrible idea.

That wasn't stopping me.

My hands shook as I wrote the last of my notes for the day. Shuffled the papers. Straightened them. Fidgeted with my pens. I was stalling. But I couldn't make myself say "fuck it" and leave. I'd made a decision and I was gonna stick to it because I was a stubborn bastard. I stood after almost an hour of indecision with a heavy sigh, groaning as I stretched out my legs from sitting so long.

It was now or never. Today was the perfect day, no doubt. The guards tonight were idiots, eager to sleep or play cards in the security room instead of actually paying attention, and...and he had had an...episode...of sorts today. So enough sedatives to knock out a horse had been pumped into his system not four hours ago. They'd be in effect until at least midday tomorrow. This was still fucking insane.

Of all the people on planet motherFUCKING earth, I had to be insanely hot for one Michael Audrey Myers. Jesus Christ. I'd been on his "care team" for about a year now and it just kept getting worse. He was about five years older than me and literally a foot taller. He could crush me like a soda can. God, I wanted him to. The muscles, the way his hair framed his face, what little was visible, and those eyes… Jesus, those eyes. That idiot Loomis thought they were dead, nothing in them. But they weren't. Just deep. There was always something going on, he was always watching, thinking. Silent.

The silence got to me too, but not as it should. It just got me hotter, imagining what I could do to make him make any noise, a groan, a word, even a single pant would be enough. I shifted uncomfortably now as I walked through the dead halls of Smith's Grove, feeling how my briefs clung to the growing wetness in my pants. Now that I was actually moving, actually doing what I'd been fantasizing about for so long, I could feel myself soaking through them, throbbing in time with my pulse, breath quickening. By the time I crept up to the guard station in front of Michael's ward it was all I could do not to pant myself. Peeking around the corner I was met with my worst fear and deepest hope.

Nothing.

The guards were up in their little break room, ignoring their duties, and probably half asleep.

Jackpot.

My hands only shook a little bit as I unlocked the gate, wincing as it creaked swinging open. The hall seemed to stretch on forever, my footsteps echoing painfully against the linoleum. Last door on the left. The only one with a padlock over the original deadbolt. The cold metal brushing my fingertips made me jump, somehow grounding me to the fact that I really was here, out of drifting thoughts about previous fantasies. The padlock, well used, didn't make any noise aside from the click of it opening, nor did the door itself, silent on greased hinges.

Fitting.

I slid through the tiniest possible opening, making sure to wait for the door to click shut before settling against it to look around. The moonlight illuminated to tiny room, casting bizarre shadows across the masks papering the walls, and...him. Michael. He was strapped down to the twin bed in the corner, directly to the left of the door, face still mostly covered by his hair despite not having one of  his usually ever present masks. His breathing was deep and even.

Undisturbed.

My first step towards him scraped across the floor, making me cringe at the noise, but I stayed quiet the rest of the way to the bed, not stopping until I was standing over him. He was even more beautiful up close like this. A strong jaw, the barest hint of scruff, high cheekbones, the slightest uptilt to his nose. And his eyes... unfortunately closed. I reached towards him, slowly, almost in slow motion, and gently brushed his hair away from the left side of his face, taking the opportunity to hold his cheek for a moment. A shuddering sigh hissed from between my barely parted lips as I stroked down the side of his face and hair. Fuck. This was everything I'd wanted. I was sure I'd soaked through my scrubs at this point. Continuing to watch Michael's face, I dared to allow my left hand to creep beneath the waistband of my pants. That first touch made me moan, sharp and surprised, before my hand jerked back from him and covered my mouth. I almost collapsed when I began circling my clit, deliciously slowly, legs trembling with need. I couldn't hold back anymore, taking even myself aback as I climbed into the bed, throwing my leg over Michael's waist so I straddled him. My soaking pussy grinding into his cock as I did so. My hand muffled the low groan of satisfaction I let out, jaw straining to hold in any other sounds as I started to rock back and forth, rubbing my clit through my, by now surely ruined, scrubs. So caught up in my giddiness, I didn't notice that Michael's eyes had slid open, ever so slightly, when I got on top of him. That he was watching with growing interest. That the place where they'd tranqued him hadn't actually gone all the way in, allowing the dose to pool under the skin. That he, therefore, hadn't actually been sedated. Clever as always, he'd faked it. What I did notice, though, was when he started getting hard beneath me. My grip tightened on the sheets, eyes wide and ecstatic as I gazed down to see the results of my efforts. Then, I couldn't help but notice the slightest shift of Michael's head. I froze.

Glanced up.

Met his gaze.

Oh shit.

Baby blues, black in their depths, pinned me in place with paralyzing fear. Minutes, each feeling like hours passed as we stared at each other. His cock twitched. My legs gripped his hips tighter automatically. Something in his gaze snapped.

With barely a moment's resistance he broke through the restraints holding his arms down, right hand slamming around my throat, left crushing into my hip. Panicking, I wiggled, my own hands shooting up to try and pry his away so I could breathe. It was like trying to move a statue, quickly making me give up and simply hold his wrist as he suffocated me. Perhaps that's what he was waiting for. A few more seconds passed, my breathes barely wheezing through his grip, eyes wide and teary, similarly held by his. Clit throbbing in damn near painful arousal. At this rate I was gonna cum before he killed me, just from his hands on me. I rocked down once more, unable to hold myself back any longer. If I was going to die (which was incredibly likely) I might as well enjoy it. Instantly, his hand on my hip forced me to be still, ignoring the breathy whines whispering out of me, taking up all the precious little air I had. Black spots quickly grew in my vision, eyes unfocused as I lost consciousness.

When I woke up my shirt was gone, binder still in place. Pants being slipped off. A hiss of pain from nearly being strangled alerted my undresser to my return to wakefulness, making them pause slightly before looming into my field of vision. Michael had put on one of his masks, a particularly blank one at that, his eyes just barely visible in the poor lighting. He was completely hard now, a more than sizable tent clear in the hospital issued sweatpants he wore. I stared for a moment, swallowing thickly in both desire and anxiety. As I did Michael stepped closer, grabbing my shoulder and forcing me off the bed and onto my knees. Eye level with his erection thanks to our height difference. I reached out, almost in a daze, but he snatched my wrist in a crushing grip. My eyes shot up to his, taking in the barely perceptible shake of his head as he gave my wrist one more good squeeze. No hands. Noted. He seemed satisfied with my submission, hand drifting to his waistband and dragging his pants down just enough to free his cock.  He was big, even taking his physique into account, cut, and thick. My mouth was actually watering, I wanted him so bad. I licked my lips, eyes locked on as I tried again to swallow the lump in my throat. His hand fisted in my hair before I could do anything else and shoved me towards his cock, rubbing it along my cheek. My mouth flew open, tongue in the air as I silently begged him to let me suck his dick, but he ignored me in favor of dragging it along my lips and cheek. Marking me in a way, I realized distantly. Impatient at last, it seemed, when he did shove his cock in my mouth it was hard and fast. I gagged instantly as he hit the back of my throat, but he didn't stop, the hand on the back of my head holding me in place. He set up a harsh pace, giving me no respite as he fucked my throat, the little breaths I stole through my nose barely keeping me going. I was moaning the minute I could, whoreish groans making me choke even harder as my pussy throbbed in time with his thrusts. I'd never been happier the patients rooms’ were soundproof. Eventually he started twitching, cock throbbing, and I knew he was getting close. I redoubled my efforts, sucking and licking as best I could. But...

My groan of frustration when he ripped himself from my mouth and stepped back rang embarrassingly loudly in the suddenly still room, but he didn't give me time to process that before I was being yanked into my feet. He ripped off my underwear, the band raising stinging lines where it had dug in before breaking. Michael spun me around to face the door, throwing me forward so that I slammed against it, hands locking onto my hips as soon as I did. His body forced mine punishingly hard against the metal, heat radiating off of him in sharp contrast. I almost squealed when I felt his hand dart between my legs,  exploring briefly before a finger was rammed inside. He added a second one and jackhammered them into me without pause, slick squelches accompanying each thrust. I really did yell at that, back arching under his chest as my legs gave out. He let me slide down slightly, hand pulling away for a moment as I whimpered. I dimly registered the mask hitting the ground before I was lifted off the ground abruptly by his hands under my knees, still facing the door as he lined up. The second he found my entrance again, he dropped me, thrusting all the way inside in one fluid motion. My eyes almost popped out of my head, no sound escaping for once, as I processed the massive cock suddenly rearranging my pussy. The pain only added to the mind numbing pleasure of finally being so. fucking. full.

Michael motherfucking Myers had his dick in me and that was way hotter than I even imagined, bringing me to the brink of orgasm just by putting it in. I was brought back to reality by the first thrust, making me shake in pleasure as he quickly found his rhythm. He fucked like a machine, deep, fast, consistent, and hard. Each time his hips connected with my ass the sound snapped through the room and I could feel the bruises forming just from his thrusts. I came embarrassingly fast and loud after he started, but other than smashing me even further against the door, he showed no signs of slowing or changing in any form. Oversensitivity made me squeak with every movement, panted moans filling the space in between. Later, I'm sure I'd be horrified. I never made much noise, let alone such slutty sounds for one of my patients, a murderer currently balls deep inside me. The tip of his cock was ramming directly into my cervix now, electric pleasure-pain racing up my spine. I came again just as I felt him bury his face in my hair, breathing slightly deeper than usual as he inhaled my scent. I sobbed while he brushed his lips across my neck and shoulder, almost gentle for a split second. His teeth came out directly after, bites, nips, and harsh sucks littering my neck as he fucked me into the door. I tried to turn my head to look at him, but he just picked up his already insane pace and sunk his teeth into the back of my neck, almost scruffing me. Just as I was beginning to go numb the barest hint of a groan left him, directly behind me ear, as he finally shuddered, thick, hot, cum pumping into me as he came. My eyes rolled back as I came again as well, I would have squirted if I hadn't  been so full of him. My body was doing it's best to suck up as much of his cum as possible, milking him for everything I could.

He stepped back and I oozed to the floor, legs utterly useless, panting like I'd run a marathon. But he wasn't done. I was arranged onto the bed once more, ragdoll limbs forced into a head down ass up position I happily maintained. I could feel him cum starting to leak out of me, ever so slowly, and his heavy gaze on my pussy watching it. He ran a finger over my entrance, collecting the excess before drifting up to my ass. I didn't even jump as his finger forced its way into my asshole, a low groan my only response. It was gone as soon as it came, having deposited this makeshift lube, quickly replaced by his cock.

This time the pain was unignorable, a strangled cry cracking on it's way past my lips before the hand not holding my hips in place slammed over my mouth, forcing it shut. He didn't wait for me to adjust, immediately starting up the same brutal pace as before, balls slapping against my clit, making me twitch. I'd never cum just from my ass before and desperately tried to wiggle my hand down to rub my pulsing clit, but his hand left my mouth to grab my wrists, pinning them above me as he straight up fucked me into the mattress. I was screaming at this point, the sheer force and mix of pain and pleasure driving me insane. The knot in my gut crept closer and closer, barely growing, but eating at me nonetheless. I squirmed harder than ever before, to get away or for more I'm not sure.

After what seemed like hours I felt Michael hunch over, fingers digging into my hip even more, and his thrusts jerking ever so slightly. His mouth crashed onto my neck again, savagely biting at the marks he'd left before, deepening them and making others. A definite groan of pleasure left him as he came this time, even more cum pumping into my ass, warmth filling me as he spasmed. I could feel my throat tear at the guttural scream that left my throat as my own orgasm slammed into me like a sledgehammer, almost blacking out as I convulsed beneath him.

We fell asleep like that, or, I did, at least. His cock still in my ass, plugging in all of his cum, him on top of me, smothering me into the mattress that smelled like him and sex.

He shook me awake as he finally pulled out with a wet sound that had me turning bright red. Sunlight was just beginning to peek through the window and I knew immediately that I had to get back to my desk before anyone realized I was missing, if they hadn't already. I threw on my pants, unable to find my underwear or one of my socks in my rush, limping over to the door. Michael stood behind me the whole time, his silent presence making me tremble with need all over again. After peeking out the door to make sure the coast was clear (thank God I hadn't lost the key...) I turned back into the room, only to be met with the wall of muscle Michael calls a chest. He peered down at me through another mask, gaze as dead as ever. Maybe...a hint of something else, definitely not affection, but something... I shook my head slightly, forcing myself to focus once more. I waved goodbye, whispering through my ragged throat as I closed the door

"I'll see you again soon...Michael."

[supernaturalscribe67]

Trick or Treat

Words: 4,489

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: TFW x Trans!FTM!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Castiel is super cute in this but he's not as involved as Sam and Dean, Dean acting like a kid in a candy store, I think that's it?

Summary: Halloween always held a special place in the reader's heart. It was one of his favorite holidays. However, as he got older and started to discover more about himself, he never got to dress up as the characters he wanted when he was younger. When Sam, Dean, and the reader stumble upon an annual Halloween Festival in a small town after a hunt, the reader is reminded of all the things he could have been. When the truth comes to light, Sam and Dean make a plan to give the reader a night he will never forget.

Request:

This might be really specific but I have an idea if you feel like writing it. Something about reader ending up talking about how he used to hate halloween as kid because he never got to dress up the way he wanted, it always had to be something like a princess, a witch, "girl costumes" and then maybe he never dressed up when he got a little older as hunting started happening and there was never a party or something like that and since Sam and Dean know pretty well what a shit childhood feels like, team free will ends up preparing a halloween night with candy and horror movies and most important of all, costumes. So it's the first time he gets to dress up as whatever he wants just for fun.

Anonymous

A/N: I got this out just in the nick of time! I really hope you guys enjoy this story because I had a lot of fun writing it and imagining the boys in the costumes I picked out for them! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy Halloween!

Much Love!~

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The diner was bustling, the small space filled with a mix of old and young people. Waitresses were running from one place to another in a frenzy, passing people their drinks and food and anything else they had asked for. (Y/N), Sam, and Dean were lucky to find a table when they did, and they were extremely thankful for it. The hunt had been a tough one - a group of vampires whose lust for blood had been higher than they had ever seen - and what they truly desired was a hot meal in their stomachs and a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed that their hot meal would take a little longer than they would've liked. 

For a Tuesday evening, the place was uncharacteristically packed. It wasn’t just the diner filled to the brim with customers, however. The entire downtown strip was swamped, each restaurant having a long line of people waiting outside for a table. People were dressed in semi-casual clothing, jackets, and sweaters worn around their torsos to combat the chill Autumn air. Orange, white, and black lights were strung along streetlights, illuminating the roads and sidewalks. 

Dean’s leg bounced up and down, fingers laced together on the table, and jaw clenched. Sam was leaning back in the booth beside his brother, hands resting lazily on the tabletop. (Y/N)’s elbow was placed on the table as well, cheek in the palm of his hand. It was evident that all of them were exhausted, and it was even more obvious that Dean was getting impatient. 

“Come on, where the hell is the waitress?” Dean huffed. 

“It’s packed, Dean,” Sam mumbled. “Give her a break.” 

“Packed or not, I’m starving. I need a burger.” 

A party of five wandered into the diner. Someone at the counter turned towards the door once the bell rang and called out to them. Dean growled and placed his head into his hands. The group gathered right beside their booth and began to chat loudly. Dean’s eye visibly twitched as he reached inside his jacket, only to be stopped by Sam with a firm hand on his wrist. 

“Dean,” Sam said in a warning tone. 

Dean mumbled something under his breath and withdrew his hand. “Why the hell is it so busy, anyway?” 

“I was thinking the same thing,” (Y/N) said. “It’s not Halloween yet, is it?” 

“Halloween’s not for another week.” 

“Then what the Hell is going on?” 

A waitress shimmied between the boisterous party and their table, a serving tray filled with drinks in one hand. She glanced down at them and gave a small, apologetic smile. 

“I am so sorry, you guys. I’ll be with you as soon as I put these drinks down.” She spoke sweetly. 

“Take your time,” Sam gave her a wave and a smile. 

The waitress let out a huff before she squeezed the rest of the way through and deeper into the building. Dean shook his head and placed his forehead into his hands. (Y/N) rolled his eyes. 

“Calm down, Dean, before you have a heart attack.” He chuckled. 

Dean lifted his head and glared at him. “I just want my burger.” He replied between clenched teeth. 

It wasn’t long before the waitress came back over, stopping in front of their table. The serving tray was tucked underneath her arm and a notepad was in her hand. 

“Alright,” she began. “I’m so very sorry for the wait.”

“Don’t worry about it,” (Y/N) waved her off. “We see how busy you are. We get it.” 

“Thank you so much,” she let out a breath of relief. “Now, what can I get you guys to eat and drink?” 

The three of them ordered their food and beverages and the waitress was quick to depart again. She soon appeared with the drinks and made a promise that the meal would be out as quickly as it could. They weren’t holding their breath on that promise, though. As they waited, there was minimal conversation between them. Conversations that had once surrounded them had begun to settle as some people began to disperse and head down the street in small groups. The diner had transformed into a quiet, peaceful environment once again. By the time their food arrived, there were only a handful of people left. 

They dug into their food quicker than they ever had before, the wait taking a toll on their stomachs and, for the first couple of minutes, they didn’t talk. They just ate. The occasional satisfying hum escaped from their mouths but, other than that, nothing was said between them. The irritation that had been so evident on Dean’s face merely minutes prior had seemed to disappear and was replaced by a relaxed, yet tired, expression. 

“How is everything over here?” The waitress returned, head tilted to the side. She didn’t seem as distressed as she had been when the building was full. 

(Y/N) looked up from his food and swallowed the mouthful he had. He nodded. “Very good, ma’am,” he said. 

“That’s great to hear. Do you guys need anything else? Some refills on drinks?” 

Dean held up a finger as he finished chewing. “I’ll have some more,” he gestured to his glass. “But I gotta ask. Why in the Hell was it so busy earlier?” 

The waitress gave an uneasy smile and let out a shaky breath. “Not from around here, I see. Today’s the first night of our annual Halloween festival. A lot of people like to go out to eat before they head downtown for the events.” 

“Isn’t Halloween next week?” Sam asked. 

“Yes, it is. They like to host the events a week early so they don’t take away from the trick-or-treating that the kids do that night.” 

“What kind of events do you even have at a Halloween festival?” 

“Well, there’s lots. They have bobbing for apples, pie eating contests, pie baking contests, hay rides, a petting zoo, crafts for the kids, cider tasting for adults, and loads of entertainment that they hire. It changes every year. Tonight, however, is our-” 

“Trick or Treat!” Two in-sync, high-pitched voices accompanied the bell from the entrance. 

All heads turned towards the door. A mother with two children walked inside. The waitress gestured towards the family. 

“Business Trick or Treat event.” She finished. “I’ll be back in one second,” she held up a finger before she walked towards the front door. 

Dean furrowed his brows. “‘Business Trick or Treat’? What’s that?” 

(Y/N) turned to look at Dean for a moment before his eyes returned to the family that had entered. The mother was dressed in casual clothing compared to her two children. One child, seemingly the youngest, had a bright pink ballgown on that stopped just before it reached her ankles. A plastic, sparkling wand was in her hand and a tiara rested atop her blonde hair. The other child stood tall in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle outfit. They both held multi-colored plastic pumpkin buckets with candy already peaking out of the top. 

For a moment, (Y/N) found that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy. The smile on his face was almost infectious. Memories of his own Halloweens were brought back to him instantly. All the times he went out with his parents, wandering from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood, in search of the best candy there was. All the times that he dressed up as a princess, fairy, witch, or even an angel ironically enough. All the times he wished he could have dressed up as Batman, a cowboy, Indiana Jones, or a pirate. Yet every time he asked his parents if he was able to dress as such, the idea was turned down, and he was directed towards the more ‘appropriate’ costumes for a ‘precious little girl’ like he was. 

He could remember seeing the other boys at school getting to dress up as who they wanted to be for Halloween while he was stuck in the clothes his parents wanted him to wear. Even as he grew up and ultimately became too old to go Trick or Treating, the want to dress up as some of his favorite characters was strong within him. He got into cosplay when he was an older teenager, but he only felt confident in his work in his early twenties. By then, his hunting career had taken off, and the time for Halloween parties and Comic Cons were off the table, so he never got the opportunity to dress as he wanted. He still cosplayed now and then in the privacy of his room, of course, but there was still that desire to show off his skills, to express himself differently than he already did. He knew it was wishful thinking. Halloween was a laughable holiday in the eyes of hunters, after all. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean said. 

(Y/N) quickly turned his head and looked at Dean. “What?” 

“Dude, you zoned out there for a minute. You okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, I was just, um,” (Y/N) turned back to look at the door, only to see that the mother and her children had disappeared, making him wonder just how long he had been out of it. “Just thinking,” he turned back to Sam and Dean. 

“About what?” Sam asked as he took a bite of his food. 

(Y/N) pursed his lips and looked down. He began to fiddle with his fingers. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Just thinking about when I was a kid and I used to do Halloween. It’s stupid, I know, but I remember having so much fun,” a smirk played in the corner of his lips. “Thought about how, one year, I wanted to dress up as a pirate with a peg leg, eyepatch, the works. Then another year I wanted to be Batman. Then the next year it was Spiderman. My mom would always tell me ‘That’s not the kind of outfit girls wear’ and then make me wear some stupid dress.” 

Sam and Dean gazed at him, a look of sympathy on their face. (Y/N) finally looked up and glanced between the brothers. He inhaled sharply and placed his hands flat on the table. 

“Anyway,” he stood up from the booth. “I’m done with my food if the waitress comes by to take them. I’m going to go to the bathroom before we head back to the motel.” With a tight smile, he turned and walked away from the table. 

The brothers watched as he vanished into the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, they looked at one another, sharing a knowing gaze. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean asked. 

Sam let out a sigh. He was, indeed, thinking exactly what his brother was thinking. “You know how I feel about Halloween.” 

“Come on,” Dean shook his head. “You saw how (Y/N) was. Seems like something he missed out on. Let’s do it for him.” 

“You’re right…” Sam paused. “Alright, let’s do it.” 

*~*

“Alright, we have ground beef, hamburger buns, frozen pizzas, a bunch of veggies, cereal, milk, eggs, butter, and…” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the paper. “Canned chickpeas?” He furrowed his brows before he looked over at Sam. 

Dean deadpanned and looked at his brother. Sam glanced between the two of them, shrugging his shoulders. 

“What?” He asked. “Chickpeas are good!” 

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and gave a small, curt nod. He patted Sam on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, Sammy,” he smiled before he turned, reached down, and zipped up his jacket. “And you guys are sure you don’t wanna go? You never miss out on a supply run. I always seem to get things wrong.” 

“Yeah,” Dean answered quickly. “We’re sure.” 

“We’re still pretty tired from the last hunt,” Sam added.

“Yeah, took a lot out of us,” 

“A lot.” 

(Y/N) stared at them, a look of suspicion on his face as he studied them momentarily. Sam and Dean had always made a point to go on supply runs when they needed food. They were rather picky about some of the ingredients that they bought, mainly the snacks that they would always put on the list. They never stayed home because a hunt ‘took a lot out of them’. Even hunts that had taken them weeks to complete and copious amounts of back-breaking work never seemed to tire them out enough to constitute them staying home. Something was up, but (Y/N) didn’t know what it could have been. 

“Right…” (Y/N) drew out. “Well, I’m gonna need the keys.” He held out a hand to Dean.

Dean slowly raised his brows, glanced down at (Y/N)’s open palm, and then looked back up at him. “Keys?” He asked in a small voice. 

“Yeah, keys. To Baby.” 

“Well, uh…can’t you…can’t you take another car? I mean, you’ve never driven Baby before and I wouldn’t want your first time-” 

“There’s more trunk space in the Impala than any other car we have here. There are three fully grown adults I need to shop for. I need the space. Keys.” 

“Right, right,” Dean slowly reached into his pocket and hesitantly took out the keys to the Impala. He held them out to (Y/N). He paused before quickly dropping them in his hand. 

(Y/N) smiled. “Thanks,” he pocketed the keys. “And, don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” 

With that, (Y/N) placed his hands into his pockets and walked out of the room. Dean watched him leave, a weary look on his face. He opened his mouth repeatedly as he tried to get words out, but they seemed to be caught in his throat. Before he could say anything, the heavy sound of the bunker door echoed throughout the halls. Dean pressed his lips together tightly and ran his fingers stressfully through his hair. Sam couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his face. 

“You know, this was your idea, right?” He quirked. 

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled and placed his hands on his hips. “I just gotta think of something else. Do we have everything?” 

“Uh, yeah. Decorations, candy, movies, costumes,” Sam grimaced at the last word he spoke. 

“Okay, alright,” Dean clapped his hands together. “I’ll give Cas a call then we can get to work.” 

“I’ll grab the stuff,” Sam sauntered out of the library. 

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialed Castiel’s number, and placed the phone against his ear. It didn’t take long before he heard Castiel’s voice on the other end. 

“Hey, Cas, (Y/N) just left. We’re ready to get set up. How soon can you be here?” 

*~*

“Stupid people don’t know how to fucking drive. Stupid cops for not knowing how to block off a goddamn road.” (Y/N) grumbled as he walked into the bunker, slamming the front door shut. As he descended the steps leading to the War Room, he cupped a hand on the side of his mouth. “Dean! Sam! The supply run was a bust! They have half the route to Salina blocked off because of a high-speed chase or some shit, and I’m not about to spend another hour in the car to get to Grand Island. I’d rather wait until you guys are feeling-” 

(Y/N) turned the corner into the library and stopped. His eyes widened as he looked around. Strung along the pillars were purple and orange lights shaped like Jack-O-Lanterns. Orange and black balloons tied to weighted bags were strewn about the place with small bats scattered around each balloon. A banner hung across the room, connected to the center pillars, that read HAPPY HALLOWEEN. The wooden tables were covered with cheap tablecloths, alternating between orange, purple, and black. On the first table was a large, clear, plastic bowl filled with liquid, several smaller bowls with various snacks and candies inside, a plate of those cheap Pillsbury Halloween-themed cookies, a plate of caramel apples, plastic cups, and paper plates. A projector was set up on the next table, facing away from (Y/N). One thing he immediately noticed was that the tables had been pushed together, giving more space along the far wall for a hanging projector screen as well as four beanbag chairs that rested side by side on the floor. 

The decorations weren’t the only thing that (Y/N) noticed, however. Standing in the middle of the library were Sam, Dean, and Castiel. Only, they weren’t in their normal outfits. Sam stood tall - taller than he normally did - in black platform shoes, a brown button-up shirt with shoulder pads placed underneath, and tattered jeans. His face, neck, and arms were painted comically green, and plastic screws were placed on his temples, giving him the classic Frankenstein look. Dean, on the other hand, wore a vintage-looking Ghostbusters uniform with Venkman written on the nametag. A bulky black backpack was placed on his shoulders as a makeshift proton pack, and he paired it with his black combat boots. Castiel had the best outfit of them all. He wore a solid black skin-tight outfit that covered his skin from the base of his neck downward, a black hat with long antennae sticking up, clear rounded wings that stuck out beside him, and a black and yellow striped body suit that was slightly too big for his frame. 

(Y/N) stood there, taking in all the detail around him, mouth ajar. Sam, Dean, and Castiel looked at one another. Sam and Dean gave slightly awkward smiles. Dean shrugged his shoulders and gestured around him. 

“Surprise!” He said. 

The exclamation shook (Y/N) out of the trance he had been in. He let out a breathy laugh. “What’s all this?” 

“Well, back at the diner, you said that you had always wanted to dress up for Halloween as what you wanted, but never got the chance to,” Sam began. 

“So, Sam and I had the idea that, since you didn’t get to dress up as you wanted to when you were little, we might as well give you a chance to do it now.” Dean finished.

“But…you guys hate Halloween.” (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, his heart swelling up with warmth and appreciation. 

“I don’t hate Halloween. Ebenezer Scrooge over here does,” Dean gestured towards his brother. 

“Ebenezer Scrooge hates Christmas, Dean,” Sam deadpanned. 

“Eh, toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.” Dean shrugged. “And since we didn’t want you to dress up by yourself for this, we got costumes of our own. I’m Peter Venkman, the best Ghostbuster, Gigantor is Frankenstein, and then Cas is-” 

“I’m a Honey Bee,” Castiel said with a bright, proud smile. 

(Y/N) chuckled. “I can see that,” he said and walked closer to them. “Guys, you didn’t have to do this for me.” 

“We didn’t have to, but we wanted to,” Sam said. “We saw how much it meant to you and figured that we could forget about hunting for one night if that meant you would have a great time. Oh!” Sam turned and walked over to the table with the projector on it. He pulled out one of the chairs and grabbed a plastic Walmart sack. He held it out to (Y/N). “We got you a couple of costumes as well. We didn’t know what you would have wanted, so we got a variety.” 

(Y/N) graciously accepted the bag and brought it close to him. “Thank you, but, I actually had a costume that I’ve been saving for a rainy day. It’ll take me about thirty minutes to get everything ready, but I promise I’ll be quick!” 

With a pep in his step, (Y/N) hurried out of the library before any of them could say a word. He jogged down the endless hallways until he got to his room. When he walked inside, he tossed the bag onto the bed and rushed to the other side of his bed. He got down on his knees, reached underneath the frame, and pulled out a storage trunk. He unclipped the locks and revealed the contents, the smile never leaving his face. 

As he got ready, he could feel the excitement flooding his body. The idea that he would finally be able to show off the skills that he had gathered from years of practice made him happier than he had been in a while. He was still in a state of shock. He couldn’t believe the extent the boys had gone to to make him happy. To live out a childhood memory that he held so near and dear to his heart. To give him the proper memories that he wished he could have had when he was little. He had to stop now and then to compose himself as he thought about it, but they weren’t sad, regretful tears like he would have normally shed. They were happy tears. Joyous tears. Tears that he didn’t mind shedding, but not while he was getting ready. He would shed them later. Everything had to be perfect. 

Forty-five minutes later, (Y/N) was ready. He had given himself a pep-talk, double-checked his references from his past attempts at the makeup style he had chosen, and checked to make sure his outfit was on correctly in the full mirror that was placed in the corner of his room. When everything had been looked over and he felt satisfied with the result, he walked out of his bedroom and headed back towards the library. The sound of his boots echoed throughout the hallway. 

“Sorry it took so long,” he said as he rounded the corner. “I just had to get everything right.” 

He stopped a little ways away from the group, who sat at one of the tables. Their eyes shifted to him as soon as he walked in. Each of them scanned him up and down, studying his outfit. 

(Y/N) wore a short blonde wig that was slicked back neatly so that no strand was out of place, black sunglasses, an earpiece over his left ear with a microphone that stopped at the corner of his lips, a blue button-up with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms and the S.T.A.R.S logo on his left sleeve, a combat vest equipped with a radio that the earpiece connected to, black pants with a holster strapped to his right thigh, black fingerless gloves, and black boots with laces tied neatly at the top. He had added some definition to his face with the help of makeup, sharpening the edges of his jaw and cheekbones. 

Sam raised his brows. “Woah,” he said. 

“That’s awesome!” Dean smiled. “Are you that one guy from that videogame you showed me? What was it? Silent Hill or something?” 

“Close. Resident Evil. I’m Albert Wesker,” (Y/N) held out his arms. 

“How did you get your face to look like that?” Dean narrowed his eyes as he stood to get a better look. 

“Makeup.” 

“Makeup can change the appearance of your face like that?” Castiel asked with his head slightly tilted to the side, the antennae on top of his head shifting with his movements. 

“Yeah! It’s all about placement and what products you use.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” Dean asked.

“I’ve been practicing for years.” 

“So, wait,” Sam stood. “You’ve cosplayed before?” 

“Well, not out in public I haven’t, but I’ve been working on my cosplays for a couple of years, trying out different styles and techniques. It was the closest thing that I ever came to dressing up for Halloween.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us? You’re really good at it!” 

“You think so?”

“Yeah! You’re like a whole new person.” 

(Y/N) beamed. “Thanks.” He then glanced towards the table and noticed Sam’s laptop had been brought in and hooked up to the projector. He tilted his head. “What’s this?” 

Sam looked down at his computer. “Well, what’s a Halloween celebration without horror movies?” 

“Yeah! And Cas hasn’t seen Ghostbusters before!” Dean exclaimed, seeming genuinely offended by his own statement. “Ghostbusters! He’s never seen it! Can you believe it?” 

“I’ve never understood why people would want to watch a movie based around the idea of being scared.” Castiel shook his head. 

“Because, to normal people, it’s make-believe Cas.” (Y/N) answered. “They don’t consider the possibility that there are actual monsters out there killing people. They like to believe that it’s all fictitious plots created by Hollywood. Ghostbusters, though, is more comedy than horror. I think you’ll love it.” 

“So are we watching it?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, let’s watch it!” 

“Awesome! I’m getting myself some snacks and then we can sit in the beanbag chairs and watch it. My idea, by the way.” 

“Oh, it was your idea, really?” (Y/N) asked sarcastically. 

“Hey! I wanted us to be comfortable while we watch all these movies!” Dean defended. “Plus, they’re plush! It’s like I’m sitting on a cloud! Sit in one!” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s evident enthusiasm. It seemed like he was just as excited about the Halloween party as (Y/N) had been. “Let me get snacks first and then we can get settled.” 

“I’ll get the movie up,” Sam said as he sat down at his computer. 

Once the movie was connected, the three of them got their snacks while Castiel went to take a seat in one of the beanbag chairs. They were, soon, all nestled in their own chair, watching various Halloween films on the projector screen. Dean was right, it did feel like he was sitting on a cloud. They talked, laughed, made fun of the cheesy jumpscares, criticized some of the terrible lore, and explained different plot points to Castiel whenever he had a question. 

In the end, (Y/N) had the most fun that he had in a long time. It had been years since he was able to feel that way about Halloween, and it brought back some good childhood memories, and the moments that they shared seemingly rewrote the bad ones, replacing them with a core memory he would never forget. He was thankful for Sam, Dean, and Castiel. He was lucky to have them in his life. He was thankful that they took the time to plan their little ‘Halloween Party’. Even though it wasn’t as extravagant as some of the parties (Y/N) had been to when he was younger, nor the ones he had seen on movies and television, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was able to spend some quality time with the boys, show off his cosplaying skills, and watch those horror movies he had grown to know and love. 

That Halloween was the best one he ever had;

And he couldn’t wait to convince the boys to do it again next year. 

[l1tw1ck]

☆ Star Player ☆

FTM!Coach!Steve x Top!Masc Reader

Request | Kinktober | No AFAB language ver (AO3)

Contains: Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Overstimulation, Brief Finger Sucking, Shower Sex

Words: 897

──────────────────

It started a few months ago, when Coach Harrington called you into his office after practice.

He said he wanted a way to commemorate all your hard work. He didn't specify what he meant but you knew exactly what he was saying when he started unzipping his jacket.

Since then you've been fucking him after every game and most practices. Using him as a toy to blow off steam or to treat as a prize after a winning game.

And today you played a great game, you completely washed the opposing team. So of course you were going to celebrate with your slut of a basketball coach.

You go back to the gym after hanging out with the team, finding your coach putting away equipment.

You walk behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, one hand wandering inside his shorts and fondling his tiny cock. "Not going to congratulate me?"

Steve moans. "Go- good job~" He was already dripping wet since half time, seeing you on the court and knowing you'll fuck him hard afterwards made him so desperate.

You chuckle, your fingers swipe at his wet cunt. "Jeez, you're wet." You move your hand out of his pants and bring it up to his face, separating your shiny fingers with a string of slick in between them. "Taste yourself." You bring your digits to his mouth. He wraps his lips around them, sucking on your fingers diligently.

You pull away and move your hand back into his pants. Your fingers ghost his entrance before entering him at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Hh~" He whimpers, clenching around the tip of your fingers as if trying to suck you in further.

You pull away, denying him the pleasure of having your fingers inside him before pulling your shorts down. You free your cock from your underwear and rub it against Steve's pussy, eliciting needy moans from the older man.

"Ooh~ please- please stop teasing me!"

"I'll give you what you want, just this once." You lift him up and spear him onto your cock.

Steve covers his mouth to prevent the loud moan from echoing in the gym. He rests his head on your shoulder, walls spasming around you with metaphorical hearts in his eyes.

You give him some time to adjust before thrusting into him, gripping his waist and moving him to meet your thrusts.

Steve defiles the room with the wet and indecent sounds of squelching and his slutty moans.

You can tell he's close with the way he's clenching around you and his breathing growing more irregular.

You play with his bottom growth, encouraging him to come. "Come for me, Steve. I wanna feel you coming all over my cock."

"Ye- yes sir~" Steve pants. "Gonna co- come for you~" His pitch heightens as he gets closer and closer.

With one hard thrust, Steve's legs shake while he dirties the floor with his squirt.

He whines when you keep fucking into him, too overwhelmed and out of it to bother complaining.

You chase your climax, already feeling dangerously close from seeing and feeling Steve orgasm. "Gonna come inside you, baby, gonna fill your pretty tummy up with my cum."

Steve shivers. He hates when you come inside him only because of the mess and the risk. Despite him taking all the necessary precautions beforehand anyways, he was still hesitant about ditching condoms the first time you asked. However, during sex, he craves it and feeling your raw dick drag against his walls is enough to make him forget everything.

Steve can only whimper in excitement, muttering incomprehensible words and mewling at the feeling of your cock pulsing inside him.

Your thrusts become uneven and lose their rhythm as you reach your peak and unload your spend into his insides.

Steve breathes heavily, mumbling something about washing. You chuckle and bring him to the showers whilst still being inside him.

Rather than cleaning him up, you push him against the cold shower wall and start thrusting into him.

He moans like a whore, too overstimulated to even say anything. He just squeezes your cock while he struggles to stay upright. Your hands on his waist and his hand gripping the corner of the wall were the only things keeping him standing.

Steve manages to moan your name, a string of words indecipherable to anyone but you following after.

"Fuck-" You groan, a grin plastered on your face. "Gonna come again?"

He nods, his lips that are wet with saliva quiver as he mumbles words of confirmation.

"Me too," You bite your lip. "Your pussy feels so fucking good sucking me in like this, can't even hold back."

Steve feels a shiver of pleasure run up his spine as he orgasms, physically reacting to the compliment you gave him.

"You're really gonna get pregnant now, Coach-" You laugh, fucking your second load into him. He's too overstimulated to acknowledge the meaning of your words, just blabbering about how good it feels.

Steve never gets pregnant no matter how many times you come inside him due to the precautions he takes but always gets scared anyways. He doesn't share that fear with you though, knowing his body is just toy for you. That doesn't make him upset of course, only aroused.

"I'll clean ya up now." You pet the male's messy hair that's drenched in sweat.

[l1tw1ck]

Writelist

I write: AFAB Characters & AMAB Characters (genderfluid, cis male, ftm, non-binary, and any masc-aligned gender)

Anybody 18+ is allowed to read and interact with my work as long as you're respectful and don't ask me to write female reader

DNI: Basic DNI criteria, if you support or write fics about real people

The more specific the request, the better. Don't be afraid to go into alarming detail.

Please don't copy and paste your request (in another ask or in my comment sections) if I don't respond to it. I won't answer a request until I've finished it so please be patient

If you want a part two, you're more likely to get one if you specify what you want in it. Most of the time I don't have any ideas if I planned on it being a oneshot

What I will NOT write:

Female Reader, Female Character, Scat, Incest (Pseudo-Incest is Fine), Age Play, Misgendering, Transphobia

Things You Can Request:

- Fics, Thirsts, Shorts, Headcanons, Drafts

- For shorts you can just give me a character (up to 4 per post) and a prompt or trope or whatever and I'll write a small little piece about it

Bottom Reader

tell me if you're okay with afab language or not if asking for ftm reader. i wont use it by default

Characters I'll write for bottom reader: Zhongli, Ajax, Itto, Ayato, Diluc, Diavolo, William Afton, Enji Todoroki, Scott Howl, Hopper, Joel Miller, Michael Myers, Ghostface (Danny, Billy),

I will not write bottom reader for anybody not listed above

Fandoms I write for

feel free to ask if I would write for any fandom not listed here

The fandoms I've been asked about but don't write for: AOT, COD, Twilight, Sk8, JJK, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss,

Genshin Impact

All Male Characters (Mondstadt to Sumeru + Harbingers + Dainsleif)

My Hero Academia

Class 1-A, Aizawa, LOV, Monoma, Tamaki, Mirio, Shinso, Enji Todoroki

Danganronpa

All male characters in Trigger Happy Havoc and Goodbye Despair

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers, Argyle, Jim Hopper, Billy Hargrove

Haikyuu

Kenma Kozume, Testuro Kuroo, Karasuno Volleyball Team, Keishin Ukai, Oikawa

The Disastrous Life of Saiki Kusuo

Saiki, Kaido, Kuboyasu, Saiko

Twisted Wonderland

Idia, Lilia, Leona, Malleus, Jack, Vil, Rook

Detroit Become Human

Markus, Connor

Obey Me

The Demon Brothers, Diavolo, Simeon, Solomon, Barbatos

FNAF

Michael Afton & Michael Schmidt, William Afton

Monster Prom

Scott Howl, Damien LaVey, Liam De Lioncourt, Oz, Brian Yu

Stardew Valley

Shane, Sebastian, Alex, Demetrius, Kent, Harvey, Elliott, Sam

Horror & Slasher

Michael Myers, Ghostface (Danny Johnson, Stu, Billy), Dwight Riley, Losers Club (1990, 2019), Patrick Bateman, Kurt Kunkle, John Doe, Chad Meeks-Martin, Wes Hicks, Ethan Landry

Bungou Stray Dogs

Atsushi Nakajima, Osamu Dazai, Doppo Kunikida, Ranpo Edogawa, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Chuuya Nakahara

One Punch Man

Genos, Speed o Sound Sonic

Hunter x Hunter

Kurapika, Leorio, Feitan

Harry Potter

Harry Potter, Ron Weasly, Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Tom Riddle, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

Honkai Star Rail

Caelus, Dan Heng, Sampo, Welt, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Luocha, Blade, Luka, Argenti, Veritas Ratio, Gallagher, Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill

Marvel

Spider-Man (Raimi, TASM, MCU, Insomniac, Miguel, Peter B. Parker, Hobie Brown), Spider-Noir, Tony Stark, Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Harry Osborn, Eddie Brock, Loki, Thor, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Deadpool,

Scott Pilgrim

Scott Pilgrim, Lucas Lee, Gideon Graves, Matthew Patel, Wallace Wells, Stephen Stills, Young Neil, Todd Ingram

Supernatural

Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

The Amazing Digital Circus

Jax, Caine, Kinger

Dungeon Meshi

Laios, Chilchuck, Senshi, Kabru, Mithrun

Gravity Falls

Stanford Pines, Stanley Pines, Bill Cipher

Naruto

Naruto, Sasuke, Kakashi, Gai, Rock Lee, Shikamaru, Iruka

Misc

Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma (The Batman), Clark Kent (MAWS), Jimmy Olsen (MAWS), James (Pokémon), Arven (Pokémon), Joel Miller (TLOU), Leon Kennedy, Luis Sera, Stein (Soul Eater), Spirit (Soul Eater), Reigen Arataka, Link, Omni Man

[fly-flower-fanfics]

Can you do a Spencer Reid X Reader where the Reader is ftm and binds with ace bandages? The unsub can be targeting transgender people and targets the reader. Nothing too bad to the reader preferably but something happens to make the bandages visable. I know that binding with bandages is bad because I did it until I got a binder.

Sorry this took me so long. I’ve been out of it lately, so this is my first writing piece getting back into the swing of things, so I’m sorry if it’s bad. I hope this is something you were looking for!

Binding Secrets

Spencer Reid x Trans Male Reader

Warnings: ACE bandage binding. PLEASE don’t bind like this. 🥺

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

This case was really stressful to me. It stressed me out more than other cases usually did. I’m sure the team has picked up on it, but I didn’t want to tell them why I was so stressed out. That was my secret and my secret alone.

There was no way I was going to be able to come out to the team. After I’ve gotten top surgery, then maybe, maybe, but certainly not now. Being transgender was a crime, it felt like. It was to this unsub apparently.

It was late and time for all of us to go home. The I could take these stupid ACE bandages off. I felt like my lungs were collapsing; it hurt to breathe. I knew that it wasn’t safe, especially for a job like mine where we have to be on the move a decent amount, but I hadn’t gotten around to buying a binder yet.

I was stopped by Spencer just before I got into my car, though. Part of me didn’t mind because I had a crush on the genius, but another part of me did mind because I was tired, and I just wanted to go home.

“What’s up, Spence?” I asked.

He hesitated a moment, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I’m worried about you,” he said softly at first. He then cleared his throat. “You’ve been acting different lately, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I said with a soft smile. Was I? 

“Y/N, I can tell when you’re lying to me. You have a tell, just like everyone else. Please...”

I felt bad lying to him, But I couldn’t tell him. My throat tightened like I was going to cry. “I need you to drop it, Spence,” I said softly

“Why? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because I can’t, Spencer!” 

He shook his head, dropping his arms by his side. “This is exactly what I get when I trust someone; it gets thrown back in my face.”

“Spencer, that’s not what this fucking is!” I yelled at him, tears now streaming down my cheeks.

Spencer’s demeanor changed completely as he noticed my tears.

“It has nothing to do with you, Spencer,” I said, wiping at my face aggressively. I hated that I was crying so easily. But I knew it was because of my stress and how close I was to snapping. 

Truth was was that I was scared. I was scared that I would be the next victim. That I wouldn’t be safe in my own home. All because I was trans and some guy out there thought that that was a crime and needed to kill me for it.

“Y/N....”

I shook my head, holding up a hand. “Save it. I’m sorry for yelling at you. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go home now.” With that, I got into my car and left.

The next day, I was really anxious to see Spencer. I had already apologized for yelling at him, but that didn’t change the fact that I had yelled at him.

I went to the bathroom and grabbed my ACE bandage, looking at it sadly. I hated that stupid thing. I could feel it practically squishing my ribs and lungs. I hated it so much. I couldn’t just not wear it though. I didn’t need the team seeing my chest.

I began wrapping it around and secured it in place once I was finished. I took a breath and sighed. At least it wasn’t too bad in the beginning of the day.

I made my way to my car and began to drive to work. The anxiety of seeing Spencer returned. I felt bad. Maybe I should apologize again. I pulled into my parking spot and shook my head. No, if he still had beef with me, he would say so, right?

I walked to my desk and set my things down, going to grab a coffee. As I made it, I was already making a face because I knew how bad;y it would taste.

“You know, I have to make my coffee deliberately bad so I can drink it now,” I said to Morgan, who has just walked in. 

He laughed. “I know what you mean. However, I still like a good cup of joe.”

I chuckled softly and went back to my desk, looking over the case file. We had a pretty good idea who the unsub was. We had just been waiting on Garcia to get the right information about him. 

The team quickly left, leaving Spencer and me behind, as they went to catch the unsub.

My gaze turned toward the genius again. His hair looked soft as it framed his face. His beautiful eyes intently read whatever book he was reading. His perfect hands turned the pages every couple of seconds. 

Best not to disturb him.

I looked over the last bits of information as I was clearing off the board to make a little bit more room when I realized something. The gate. How had we missed that? The gates were his signature, doors to whatever he thought. I couldn’t figure out that part. But it made me realize that now, the team was going after the wrong guy.

I quickly grabbed my coat and ran out to my car. I had to catch this guy before he caught someone else. I swallowed hard as I threw my car into gear. Who else would be better bait for this guy than a trans man like myself?

I made my wait to the gate that was in the last picture and entered the abandoned house. This was where the last victim was found, but we had figured that he liked to revisit the crime scenes. I was just banking on the fact that he hadn’t revisited this one since it had been blocked off for a couple of days.

I drew my gun and tip-toed quietly through the halls. A squeaky floorboard gave away my position, and I froze. Had he heard? Was he even here? I shook my head and continued down the hallway.

I heard a noise from behind me. I turned, but I wasn’t able to see what or who it was before something hit me in the face and knocked me out.

I woke up, dazed and confused. I tried to move but realized that my arms were tied behind me and I was stuck to a pole. I jerked to try and free myself, but it was useless.

The unsub walked over to me, twirling a knife around his fingers. “Y/N L/N, I am familiar with you. The only trans member in the BAU, isn’t that right?” 

I sneered at him, still trying to free myself. “So the fuck what? How do you even know who I am?”

“Oh, I know a lot more than you may think,” he said, walking up to me and lifting my chin with the knife. “But that’s all surprise for later on.” 

He slashed at the sleeve of my coat with his knife. “First, we play a game. It’s called Tell Me The Truth Or I’ll Take One Article Of Clothing At A Time.”

“Long title of a stupid ass game,” I muttered to myself, mentally cringing. Sometimes I hated that I was always so snippy.

He slashed at the other sleeve of my coat. “Got a mouth on you, don’t you?”

His stupid little game continued as I tried my best to keep my mouth shut. But it seemed like no matter what I did, he was slashing at my clothing. There was no sign of sexual assault on the victims, but did he do this to all of them? Somehow, I couldn’t seem to remember anything about this unsub.

My knees shook as fear began to take over my body. What would happen when he shredded my clothing to the point that there was nothing left of them? Would he go to my skin next? One of the victims was all slashed up, I think. I shook my head, trying to keep m mind clear. I needed to be safe long enough for someone to find me.

A hand around my neck made me look up and realize the unsub was behind me now, holding the knife to my neck. My eyes fell to a person standing at the base of the stairs: Spencer Reid. My heart filled with joy. Thank god for Spencer and his big brain.

“Put the gun down or I’ll kill her,” the unsub said, pressing the knife deeper into my throat.

I winced, but at the misgendering, not the knife. 

“He’s a he,” Spencer replied, holding his gun in the same position as he was five seconds ago. 

“I said, put the damn gun away!” 

The knife bit my skin, causing me to cry out. This made Spencer put his gun away. 

“All right, all right, look. The gun’s away. It’s away. Let him go.”

“I’m not letting her go. People like her need to be fixed. They’re mentally ill.”

My stomach tightened at the midgenderment. It sucked because he was going to tell Spencer my secret. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out everything that was happening. Things would be okay. They had to be okay. I had to believe that. I had to believe that I’d make it out of here. I prayed Spencer wouldn’t tell the rest of the team my secret. 

All I ever wanted was to be seen as a real boy...

The next thing I knew, my hands were being untied and there was a slight ringing in my ears. I looked down next to me to see the unsub, dead. Spencer must have been able to convince him to get far enough away from me for him to draw his gun and shoot the guy before either one of us got stabbed.

“Y/N, are you all right?” I nodded, and Spencer pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We’ll get you new clothing. Do you want to come to my house?”

I guess it was obvious to Spencer that I didn’t want to be alone. I nodded silently and he led me out to his car. “We’ll come back for yours later,” he promised me. 

At this point, I didn’t really care. My head hurt from being knocked out, and my chest was aching all over again.

Our car ride was mostly silent, but Spencer spoke up. “How did you know it was him?”

“The gate,” I replied. “Something about the gates never lined up in my head. But then it reminded me of why he always kept the eyes open. They were like portals. To what, I’m not sure...”

Spencer nodded and hesitated before speaking again. “You’re binding unsafely...”

I didn’t know what he was talking about until i looked down. My shirt was shredded, and it was easy to see the ACE bandages that was supposed to be hidden. I cursed myself, squeezing my eyes shut. 

“Please don’t tell anyone, Spence. I don’t want them to know I-I didn’t want anyone to know...”

“Is that why this case bothered you so much?”

I didn’t say anything, but my silence was probably the clearest answer. Spencer didn’t say anything else until we got to his house. He led me inside and sat me down on the couch. 

“I can grab you some clothing to borrow for tonight, but I need you to take that bandage off. You’re going to ruin your changes for top surgery. It can seriously hurt you. it can crack or break ribs and-” 

“I know, Spencer,” I said softly. “But I can’t. I’m scared...”

“My shirt’s will be big enough on you. I promise. And if you want, I’ll stay in my room all night so I won’t see you without it on. You...” He stopped a moment. He closed his eyes for a second before looking at me again. “You can borrow one of my old binders tomorrow. It may not fit perfectly, but it’s so much better than that bandage.” Spencer sat next to me on the couch.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Spencer....Spencer had just come out to me as trans. I couldn’t believe it. He was trans this whole time too? My emotions welled up in my chest, and I felt like crying all over again.

“I love you,” I blurted out. Immediately, I felt myself blush, and I regretted my words.

Spencer only smiled at me. “I love you; I always have.”

I looked down at my lap, feeling a tear drip down my cheek. “Spence, I’m scared... I-I love you. But I’m so scared...”

“Of what?”

“Of what the team will say. That...that you’ll hate me for being trans...”

“Y/N, I can’t hate you for being trans when I’m trans myself.” Spencer took my hands in his. “If you want to leave the confessions alone for tonight, I understand. You’ve been though a lot. We can talk more in the morning when you have a clearer mind. Just promise me you’ll take that ACE bandage off.”

“I promise,” I said quietly. 

Spencer stood and pressed a light kiss onto my forehead. “Thank you. Now let me go grab you those clothing so you can turn in for the night. I’ll be here if you need anything at all.” He got up and began to walk down the hallway to his bedroom.

“Spencer?” I called out.

He stopped and looked back at me from the doorway. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”