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simplyotometrash · 2 years

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Hey so I stumbled across your blog and hooolly shit is your stuff g o o d-

I do have a request though! It’s a headcannon I don’t see often and it kinda sucks- But if I may ask for your head cannons on the brothers (+Diavolo and Barbatos) reacting to top surgery scars? As a trans guy these kinds of headcannons are always the most comforting to me and I’d love to see what you come up with!

Thanks in advance! -🐉💜

As someone who actively wants top surgery, I have no idea how I never wrote this sooner! I feel like I poorly explain things in this because I always end up projecting how I'd explain shit onto the MC when I'm writing oops-

I did exclude Barbatos because I ran out of steam and honestly struggle to write him as is.

I've been in a bit of a shitty headspace lately, so I'm trying to write what I can.

Brothers + Diavolo x Trans Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Explanation of gender dysphoria, mentions of surgery

MC With Top Surgery Scars

Lucifer:

This is going to be a pretty common reaction, but he was curious as to why you had scars in the first place.

His first thought was that you had been hurt in some way, so he asked you outright about them.

"I'm transgender. I was born female but that's never been who I am. I never felt like a woman. I knew I was a man. I had surgery to help me have a body that feels more mine."

You weren't sure if Lucifer understood you at first but he simply nodded.

"You're still you. I've never once thought of you as anything but a man before. I'm glad to have learned something new as well."

You rubbed your neck sheepishly as he sat down with you.

He wanted to learn more and asked you how comfortable you would be educating him about this further.

Lucifer only cares about being respectful to you and to anyone else. He's a centuries-old demon/fallen angel and very much like a dad at times, but he catches on quickly.

Mammon:

Mammon doesn't even notice your scars at first, to be perfectly honest.

He was busy admiring how attractive you were oops.

Then he notices something that's just a bit different than his own chest and he gets curious.

"MC, what's with the scars on yer chest?"

You laugh at how long it took for him to even notice the scars. It was cute how he overlooked them because he was caught up staring at you in awe.

"I'm transgender, female to male, and I had a surgery that gave me a flat chest. It makes me feel more comfortable in my body. That's really all there is to it."

You could practically see the light bulb go on in his head when he understood what you were talking about.

"Well, I'm glad ya have a body that ya feel more comfortable in! I think that's important!"

His words made you smile and you gave him a tight hug. You loved how he just accepted it without a second thought. It meant the world to be accepted by the one you loved most.

Leviathan:

He wasn't staring at your chest when you were changing shirts, he swears! He just...uh...was looking in your general direction!

Poor Levi panicked because he looked over while you were changing in his room and didn't catch himself staring before you did.

It did make you feel a bit shy but it was because he was staring in adoration. He wasn't sure how he had gotten lucky.

But he did take note of the scars on your chest.

"Did something happen? I, uh, saw the scars. Humans usually have surgery when something's wrong, don't you?"

You sat down next to him and shrugged a bit.

"Nothing happened, so to speak. In a way, you aren't totally wrong. Something was wrong. The body I was born with didn't correlate to my gender. I had surgery so that I could take steps towards having a body I am more myself in."

Levi nodded as you explained. He went on to ask more questions, wanting to know more so he could understand you even better.

He really just wants to understand. He supports you no matter what. You're you, his Henry, and that's all that really matters to him.

Satan:

He's so well-read on things from all three realms, I don't doubt he's read about human gender and sexuality before.

So he wasn't really as confused when he saw your top surgery scars as the others were. He was more thinking about what he had read previously.

"I want to make sure, MC, but he and him are your preferred pronouns, correct? I saw your scars."

You were happy to hear him double-checking with you. It really meant a lot. It was a far cry different than how you got treated by other humans.

"Yeah, I'm a man. I had top surgery a couple of years ago, it's really helped my dysphoria a ton."

The two of you went on to have a very in-depth conversation on gender and sexuality. You taught him more about different sexualities and gender identities, going in-depth about the gender binary and those identities outside of it.

You saw him taking notes in a little journal, too. He wanted to make sure he had all of that information down for later reference.

Asmodeus:

Being demons and former angels, I don't think any of these guys have thought about human sexuality or gender identity. Sexualities just...never were a thing to them.

They didn't really have too many terms for these things because they never needed them. Asmo knew he liked people regardless of their gender.

I personally view Asmodeus as gender-fluid but preferring he/him pronouns.

Asmo's always viewed you as a man and seeing your scars didn't even make him think twice.

"MC, darling, could I ask you about your scars? I've learned a few things about human sexuality and gender, and was wondering if your scars were related to that."

You flopped onto his bed next to him and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm transgender. I had surgery to have a body that fits me and who I am. Some people have surgery, whether it be top, bottom, or both, as a big goal and others don't. Top surgery was a goal for me and it's really helped me feel more confident and comfortable in my body."

He went on to ask more about gender specifically, as I stated above I think he's gender-fluid. He didn't have a word for it until you told him and explained it to him.

Beelzebub:

You had accompanied him to the gym to work out and he noticed in the locker room that you had scars on your chest.

Now, Beel knows there is a time and place for everything. He's not stupid like some people seem to think he is. He pays attention.

He made a mental note to talk to you about it when you guys got home.

And so he did.

"I saw those scars on your chest when we were in the gym locker room. What're they from?"

He seemed so genuinely concerned and you couldn't help but smile. He was always thinking of you and your health above all else.

"I had something called top surgery a couple of years ago. I'm transgender and I wanted a body that was more me."

He nodded in understanding as you continued to explain things to him.

This was very clearly important to you meaning it was now important to Beel, too. If it mattered to you, it mattered to him. He would learn from you so he could properly support you.

Belphegor:

He happened to see your chest one day when you were getting changed into your pajamas with him laying on your bed.

He really didn't mean to look. Usually, he doesn't even open his eyes just to respect your privacy.

You got into your bed with him and got settled in for cuddle time, your head on his chest when he figured he would go ahead and ask.

"I saw you have scars on your chest. What did you do?"

It was hard not to laugh at the phrasing.

What did you do? You wanted to jokingly answer that you cut your breasts off yourself but figured it would be better to approach the topic seriously from the start.

"Remember how I said I am transgender? That while I was born in a female body, I'm actually a man? Well, I had a lot of body issues because my body didn't match my gender."

"It's not the same for every trans person, some of us don't have dysphoria and some do. I did. Top surgery helped me out a lot, but it isn't the goal for every trans individual."

He hummed in response and kissed the top of your head gently.

"I see. You'll have to tell me more about this stuff in the morning. I'm pretty curious now."

Diavolo:

He had invited you over to swim in his pool! He rarely ever had anyone to swim with and it was going to be so much fun!

That was how he noticed the scars on your chest.

He actually didn't see them until after you guys were done swimming and you were just laying by the pool for a bit.

He put his drink down, a smoothie courtesy of Barbatos, so he could talk to you about it.

Dia was just genuinely curious. He didn't know a lot about human things and his upbringing was incredibly sheltered.

"Say, MC, what are those scars on your chest for? I hope it's not invasive or offensive for me to ask you that."

You set down your own smoothie and sat up before you gave him an answer.

"I'm transgender, female to male. I didn't feel very...myself when I had developed breasts. I had surgery to remove them."

He ah'd in understanding and sat in thought for a moment or two. You could practically hear the wheels in his head turning. Once he got curious there was little to do to stop him.

So you began explaining human gender identities to him. You went as in-depth as you could so that you left no stone unturned.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #waylonwrites

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fanfic-from-a-67-impala · 7 years

Text

A Supernatural x Reader Story Chapter Twenty-One: Survival of the Fittest

Word count: 2465

(You can also read it on Wattpad here)

Master Post

"So, a young woman in a maid's uniform walks into your store and buys a machete, and you sell it to her, no questions asked?"

The hardware store worker looks over at you, ringing you up for the two spray bottles of all-purpose cleaner. He can't be older than twenty. Attached to his green apron is a Bob's Valley Hardware name tag reading Pete.

"Look, agent," he defends, "that late at night, a lot of strange people come in and buy strange things. It's not my job to ask questions."

"Right," you mumble. "Well, did he b– did she buy anything else?"

"Yeah," he says, pointing to the lower shelf of a newspaper rack, "a copy of the paper."

On the cover of the Montana Gazette with yesterday's date is an off-center picture of Roman with the headline Dick Roman Nominated for Man of Year printed next to it.

"Did she mention– ?" you start, but Pete is already looking over your shoulder.

"'Morning, Mr. Arnold," he calls to the middle-aged man in the doorway. "How's it going?"

"Not too good, Pete," the man responds, grumpily, as he makes his way over to the counter. "Somebody jacked my truck last night. Anyway, I just need a room key copied."

You raise your eyes to him again and pull out your badge. "Excuse me, sir. Agent Evans, FBI," you introduce yourself. "Could you tell me a little bit about your truck?"

He pauses a moment, looking you up and down. Yesterday, you picked up a suit to wear for occasions like these, and you couldn't lie – it makes you feel like you can kill anything that comes your way.

"It's a '98 Ford Ranger," he recalls, finally, "blue. What do the feds want with a stolen truck?"

"I'm working a case in the area, and this information could be helpful," you state. "Could you tell me where your vehicle stolen?"

"I run the hotel a couple doors down," he explains, digging a key out of his jeans pocket and handing it to Pete. "It was parked just outside."

"I see," you muse. "And you don't have any security cameras or anything that would have caught it?"

"'Fraid I don't, agent," he admits.

You let out a sigh, and pull a card with you phone number out of your jacket pocket. "Well, if anything turns up," you hand him the card, "please give me a call."

Behind the counter, Pete turns on the key-cutting machine.

"Thank you for your time," you shout to him over the whirring sound, grabbing the bottles of cleaner.

The hotel, as promised, is at the end of the short strip of shops. There is one car parked outside, but at the far end, you notice a flat, light-colored object on the brick walkway. Upon closer inspection, you see it is a mud-soaked newspaper, the same issue the shop worker said Bobby took.

"Damn it, Bobby," you mutter under your breath.

As you pull out onto the street, a vibrating tone emits from your pocket. You fish out your phone and press the call button, breathing a sigh of relief. It's been two days since you left the boys, and you had begun to worry.

"Dean," you answer, "how'd it go?"

"Turns out it's going to be more complicated than we thought," he says. "Where are you? How's it going with Bobby?"

"I'm in Helena," you inform him, "and he was definitely here last night. I'm also pretty sure I know where he's headed."

"All right, well, keep us updated," he says. "We'll do the same."

"Yeah," you agree. "Be safe."

The call end tone rings, and you toss the phone onto the passenger seat and speed down the street. With Dick still alive, finding Bobby is more urgent than ever.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

The setting sun casts a long shadow of you onto the pavement as you walk. You parked a block up the road from the SucroCorp building so Bobby wouldn't recognize your car, though you doubt it would matter much to a vengeful spirit on a rampage.

Armed with a gun in the back of your jeans and a bottle of borax cleaner in hand, you walk up to the side of the building and wait. You wait for hours, in fact, scoping out the building, then leaning against the fence or pacing the sidewalk, listening to the few passing cars.

You have been watching the figures busying themselves inside the building, vaguely noting the leviathans taking on the forms of business people. In one room, though, a woman dressed in a suit, as most of them are, stands over a familiar figure in a chair. His hands are bound, his mouth taped over, and you can only see him in profile, but you are sure it's Kevin Tran.

You are reminded of Charlie now, of climbing the stories of the Roman Enterprises building to peer into the windows and make sure she was safe.

You round the corner to get a closer look, but she has already walked over to the window and you can barely catch a glimpse of her closing the blinds.

Before you can count the number of stories high the room is, you are distracted by the sight of a blue truck rolling down the street.

Your heart pounds, your palms sweat. At the hardware store, you eyed a set of iron chains and decided against it. Now, you doubt your decision.

You were beginning to think maybe he didn't come here after all, that maybe he was able to stop himself, but as you suspected, the maid from the motel hops out of the driver's side, machete in hand. Her body even walks like Bobby did, you think, only yards away from the fence. After he passes through, the cameras will catch him and you won't be able to stop him until it is too late.

You sprint up the street, faster than you have ever run before. He doesn't see you until you are on top of him, knocking him to the ground. Before you can say a word, though, he pushes you up and off of him with effortlessness you wouldn't think possible for that body, even under a ghost possession.

You land on your back, shaking your head as if to clear it before you run after him again, standing between him and the fence.

"Bobby, listen," you plead. "You don't have to do this."

"You shouldn't be here, (Y/N)," he says, his tone calm, steady. A grayish clear fluid runs out of her nose, and he wipes it away. Ectoplasm, like possession, can only be performed by particularly strong, angry spirits.

When you don't move, he shoves you to the side, despite your resistance, and the fall, stomach to the ground knocks the wind out of you. Unable to speak, you look up in time watch him pass through the fence.

Before he can get far, however, Sam jumps out from behind the nearby van and blocks his path.

"Bobby," he warns, "I know you're in there. Listen to me – there are cameras everywhere." He points upward, toward the camera you saw earlier. "There's one right there. Stop, okay? You're going to get her killed."

Without warning, Bobby shoves Sam backwards, out from where the van hides them from the cameras. He scrambles forward in hopes of the rotation of the nearest camera missing him.

"Bobby," he exclaims, "damn it. How are you going to kill Dick, huh? You can't!"

Now, Bobby unsheathes the machete, drawing it so close to Sam that it makes you flinch. "Good enough for me," he says, in the maid's – Louise, her name tag reads – dark voice, and swings the blade up at the taller man.

Sam lunges backwards, avoiding it, then forward again, grabbing onto Bobby. "No, I'm not letting you go."

"Get out of here, Sam," he warns. When Sam refuses, Bobby breaks out of his grasp and pins him against the dark van by his neck.

"Sam!" you yell, finally able to breathe again, holding yourself up by gripping the links of the fence, but you are only met with his desperate choking sounds, and an overwhelming fear you have never felt before.

For what seems like an eternity, you think Bobby may actually kill him. But he focuses on something past Sam now. His reflection – not the Louise's, his – in the glossy finish of the van. Something in his eyes changes, if only momentarily. Regret.

"No!" he yells, pushing himself out of Louise's body. His spirit crumbles and disappears from sight as if blown away by the wind, and she falls to the ground.

Sam's feet hit the ground and he meets your eyes, gasping for air. With Bobby gone now, you remember.

"Kevin," you mumble.

"What?"

"Kevin," you voice, louder this time. "He– he's in there. They captured him."

"Cas told us," he admits. "But there's nothing we can do for him right now."

You are reminded again of Charlie in that building, how helpless you felt seeing Dick standing over her, the panic in her voice.

"I can't just leave him– " you begin.

Sam scoops up Louise's still body as if she weighs nothing. "(Y/N)," he interrupts, "if Dick went through all that trouble to get to Kevin, he must need him for something. Why would he kill him now?"

His words take a moment to sink in, and he waits until you give him a reluctant nod before carrying an unconscious Louise around the side of the fence.

By the next night, you, Sam, and Dean have met at the Rufus' cabin and reported the events of the previous night to Meg and Cas, and the discovery that Dick had more leviathans take the shape of Dick Roman. To this, Meg mentioned that Castiel, having been a home to all of the leviathans at one point, would be able to spot the real leader. At which point, a mentally unhinged, unhealthily pacifistic Cas reappeared with a game of Twister.

"There's no real point in looking for a tell," Dean voices what you are both thinking, hunched over a computer playing videos of Roman. "They all downloaded Dick's brain. They've all got the same tells."

"All right, then maybe the question is," Sam suggests, pacing the room, "what would the real Dick be doing?"

"Is that the best you can do?"

Bobby's voice cuts through the air behind you. "Idjits."

• • • • • • • • • • • •

The coals burn bright in the basement fire pit, as hot as they will ever get.

Though you would never admit it, a part of you found relief in the possibility of Bobby having moved on last night. It would have spared you having to face him. You wonder if he can see what you are, whatever you are. You wonder how disappointed he would be to know.

But you see it more clearly than ever now. Standing before you is Bobby's vengeful spirit, his consciousness, but with an uncontrollable desire that overshadowed everything else about him. Sam defended it his actions to extent that he could, but the fact is that he didn't see someone he wished so desperately to protect almost killed by the ghost of someone who wished the same thing.

"Bobby," you say. You have been silent the whole night, and he looks up when you speak now.

How can you possibly convey everything you would like to tell him in just a few minutes? What could you say to make him understand the extent of your gratitude? How can you even begin to pay the enormous debt you owe him?

You meet his eyes one final time. "Thank you."

He nods in understanding, then takes a step back. "Here's to running into you guys on the other side," he says. "Only, not too soon, all right?"

You and the boys say nothing. Dean only handles the flask for a moment, then drops it into the blue-orange flames.

In minutes, the metal has melted and Bobby becomes a bright orange as well, a burning spirit, a familiar sight. He is a flame, then ashes, then nothing.

The three of you look around at each other, this new reality sinking in.

Dean is the first to leave, seeming to notice something in the direction of the staircase that neither you nor Sam can see, or saw before it disappeared.

"Go on up," you tell Sam, then gesture to the fire. "I'll take care of it."

He doesn't argue, only nods, squeezes your shoulder for a moment, and leaves without a word.

The boys begun mourning him when he died, you think, staring into the burning embers. And you had begun mourning him the night you made that deal at the crossroads. But there was a finality to this that made you feel... empty.

You wait until the flames die down before using the fireplace shovel to turn over the coals, smothering the heat with the underlying ash.

This is where I'll leave you folks for the season. After all, (Y/N)'s main storyline for this episode was finding Bobby. But you all know what happens: Dean convinces Cas (using their undying love for each other, obviously) to help him find Dick, they kill him and both get sent to Purgatory, and Crowley has his demons capture Kevin, and informs Sam that the remaining leviathans have no purpose now that their leader is gone, making them "just another monster" (this fact will be somewhat relevant to minor details of the next chapter). The result of these events leaves Sam alone for the first time in his life, which causes him to make decisions that are prevalent in the following season, which is why I thought it best to end (Y/N)'s story here, at least for this episode.

Never fear, however, for I will be posting the next chapter very soon. I'm personally really excited about where the story is going to go next season, so stay tuned (and don't forget to comment a good posting time)!

--Amelia

#Supernatural #Supernaturalxreader #Supernatural fanfic #Spn fanfic #A Supernatural x Reader Story #series #writing is hard

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