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((Buckle in boys))

((Warnings: suggestions of possibly transphobic family, talk of internet predators))

((Bonus warning: slight mention of faking death, got asked to add))


Y/n finished up the editing on the note the day previous, given nothing else was really happening that day anyway. He had it saved in his drafts, but it was time. Tommy would be back by that afternoon.

As y/n went to send his apology note to Tommy he noticed a new email from a no-response address.

He sent the message quickly so he wouldn't forget. Once the word sent displayed itself on the screen he allowed himself to go back to his inbox.

He furrowed his eyebrows. The message had been sent just a couple hours ago.

A delivery notice.

His eyes widened. It was here early. It wasn't supposed to be here for a couple more days.

It wasn't supposed to be here until a day neither of his parents were home. The message said it wouldn't be here until then so he hadn't been watching.

He stood and ran down the stairs as calmly as he could so as to not draw any attention to himself. He walked past his father in the living room and to the front door, checking the step. It wasn't there. Maybe in the mail?

He turned back, walking inside to get the key to the box when he saw a package on the table in the kitchen.

He froze up, trying to formulate a plan.

"Ah, d/n."

Plan, plan, plan.

"Uhm, hi," he said, mind rushing and empty at the same time. He fought the growing panic, knowing if he showed it he would be questioned.

"Do you know what this is?" his mother asked, clearly referencing to the envelope.

He shook his head.

"Wrong house maybe?"

His mother stared at him blankly.

"It has our address on it," she deadpanned.

He felt his blood chill. She knew.

"Not sure."

"D/n, I don't appreciate you lying to me," her voice went cold.

He stayed silent, picking at his nails, hands tucked in his pocket. He knew there was nothing he could say to convince her at this point.

"I also don't appreciate you giving out our address to strangers on the internet. Those people are dangerous. They don't have the best in mind for a young girl," she glared over at the package. "Letting them send you things, especially such intimate ones... I thought you knew better. I can't imagine why they would, other than to see you in it," his mother looked deeply disturbed. She was worried for her "daughter" and "her" safety.

Y/n felt only a slight relief. She had assumed it was some form of bra. Still very awkward, but maybe he could convince her to throw it out and steal it from the garbage or something. He wondered if she would care so much if she knew the truth. He didn't want to risk it yet. He decided to go down the route of more denial.

"I didn't-"

"Do you think I'm stupid, d/n? I can tell you've been talking to someone. I let it slide because you seemed happy, but now that I know it's a predator-"

Stop Calling me That (mcyt + ftm reader) -Book 1/2-Where stories live. Discover now