William Afton/Steve Raglan x Trans FTM Reader

Chapter 2

⚠️TW⚠️: Mentioned irrational phobia of dogs, intrusive thoughts, suicidal thoughts, self harm, long distance online grooming, gaslighting, violent thoughts

"Oh bloody" you whined, as your 11:25 am phone alarm went off.
You hit the stop button, reluctantly got out of bed, and grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste on the way to bathroom right across.
You brushed your teeth, then wiped the toilet seat with cleaning spray and tissue before going piss, because you're a germaphobe who'd understandably rather not come into contact with your sibling's remaining buttcheek oils and dead skin.
Suppose it would be amazing if they randomly went missing, because they have a criminal record, hate gay and trans folks, and don't work despite being over 20 years older than you.
Damn near everyone in your immediate and extended family defended them for being a loser, but in the same breath got mad at you for not having your own home, car, and not having a job or license yet.
At least one sibling out of state and your online European friends understood you, you'd probably go even crazier and have worse intrusive thoughts if you didn't have them in your circle.
Your angry intrusive thoughts briefly disappeared as you pissed, dried your bits, flushed, pulled your panties and pajama pants up, washed your hands, and went back to your room.
You sat back down on your bed after closing the door and zoned out for an hour wishing someone would take you away from your family, but in the back of your mind you knew that it'd never happen.
You reluctantly left your room and went downstairs to go refill your 7 year old purple insulated water bottle, that's been with you throughout some good but mostly awful times.
Your awful sibling came out of their room saying "hi deadname" which made you cringe every time, not because they called you your deadname, but because they interacted with you in the first place.
"Hello" you reluctantly answered, as you refilled your water bottle and left, going back upstairs to keep dwelling.
Your mom acknowledged you as you went up the final step, giving you the perfect opportunity to ask for a ride to your evening walk in appointment.
She was skeptical and asked a fair bit of questions, but you assured her that it was legitimate and that you were going to be okay, and if not you had pepper spray and your phone.
After you got that over with, you went back inside your room, ate almost a whole bag of spicy potato chips without msg and maybe 7 pouches of gelatin free fruit snacks, which made your stomach hurt, and further agitated how irritated you felt.
Your period had recently ended, but your remaining hormones still bothered you, and added onto your intrusive thoughts about wanting your family gone forever.
You tried hiding your period whenever possible, not out of shame, but because your parents always blamed your outbursts, mental breakdowns, and episodes on it as an excuse to label you nothing more than delusional and dramatic.
You told them many times that your period and mental illnesses don't go hand in hand, but naturally they didn't believe you and told you that you're worse than usual whenever you were on your period, which felt like the ultimate insult.
Being mentally, emotionally, psychologically, and verbally abused since age three left you a permanently dysfunctional person, and being physically punished over minuscule things from age 3 to 15 didn't help.
You put your earbuds in and cried to Bloodfest (from Mizumono) by Brian Reitzell from the season two Hannibal TV series soundtrack.
Your sketchy manipulative online long distance girlfriend had ruined the fandom for you, but you still appreciated that song in particular.
Her grooming and abuse had made you want to pull a Mizumono on her, for stealing a rare gift that wasn't meant for her in the first place and treating it like a crusty wank sock.
Though she changed her name back to Sally after pretending to be a closeted trans man named Allan, you still remember everything she said and did, and still have invisible figurative scars that she caused.
You only knew about her detransition after your long distance Polish best friend told you, when you rightfully talked trash about her, referring to her by her old chosen name.
It made you want to throw up knowing that she saw every inch of you, all the bits and pieces that weren't meant for a predatory piece of trash like her.
She took advantage of you when you were at the awkward in between age of 19, over 18 but under 20.
Perfect for her then 21 year old self to prey on you because it was numerically a small age difference that you wouldn't think anything of, but she was still developmentally ahead of you.
You were stupid and naive for your age thanks to your parents sheltering you and simultaneously subjecting you to violent and sociopathic abuse.
Then your piece of garbage good for nothing older sibling moved back in and tried to bring a dog, which your dad was going to let slide until you reminded him of your phobia that you had of dogs since age 3.
He was idiotic and kept minimizing your fear by saying it was young and wouldn't hurt you, but your phobia was unfortunately too severe and neither you or the dog would be content had it stayed.
Thankfully the dog didn't end up staying and was in good hands with one of your sibling's friends, but your stupid sibling lingered for a long time after lying and saying that they'd only be there for a month.
You got mad at your parents for not holding them accountable for lying and being a shitty deadbeat who was taking advantage of them.
Being gaslit and dismissed by your parents, and sharing a living space with that deadbeat ex criminal for well over a year had sent you into a permanent state of depression and psychosis.
A month after your 20th birthday, you self harmed by scratching the inside of your forearms with an old splinter medicine packet that you forgot to throw away.
It started burning and itching, so you put witch hazel and Vaseline all over the swollen skin slits.
You took a picture of your swollen scratches, posted them onto your social media story with a lengthy vent about how you didn't want to live with your parents anymore, saying that you need to disappear to some stranger's attic or basement for at least 10 years.
It was a bad move because your oldest sibling's partner saw it and ratted you out, so your oldest sibling called your mom and dad, and ratted you out.
Being snitched on made you want to hurt yourself more or go even further and take your own life, but you didn't want to let that second intrusive thought win.
You were convinced that they ratted you out and did that on purpose to make you go away forever even if there was an off chance that it wasn't true.
You still hated and never forgave them, even though your parents don't believe they had ill intentions.
You didn't care, you weren't going to their stupid worthless wedding, especially after that same oldest sibling scared you and screamed gaslighting garbage at you for calling one of your parents delusional on Christmas night.
After that happened you vowed to stay away from them and not go to their probable joke of a wedding.
It was now a month away, but you hoped that something would actually come of your phone call with Steve, so you could at least make money while boycotting family bullshit.
After nearly a couple hours of on and off crying, your head hurt really badly, especially on the left side of your head, where the pain accumulated the most in your left eyeball.
Not wanting it to get worse than it already was, you took 50 mg sumatriptan and set a 2 hour timer to sleep it off a little.
Once your 3pm timer went off, you got up to use the bathroom, with the same routine, but unfortunately you had the spicy shits from those hot chips and the dinner you ate last night.
When you were confident that you emptied both tanks, you wiped front first, then back until brown and red stopped appearing on the wet wipes.
You flushed, washed your hands, and went back to your room to get ready for your dreaded walk in appointment with Steve or whoever was available.
You didn't know why, but you dreaded it being him, you were paranoid, and labeled delusional and irrational by your family.
You'd reluctantly decide not to tell them that you have a bad feeling about Steve, they'd tell you that you'll probably be fine, not that you'd want their help on the very off chance that you weren't.