Like to think Toby has a hidden curly hair genes inside him. So one of his and Reader's children ended up inherited it.
oh he DEFINITELY does
I like to picture toby with slightly curly hair!!! if it grows longer it’s a lot more obvious, or if it’s humid out
just like these,,, thick, loose brunette curls. probably annoys the hell out of him though so he hacks at his hair with the nearest sharp object (scissors, his hatchets, what have you)
and so I definitely agree that his kid would probably inherit this! I’m under the impression that he has some strong ass genes lmfao so at LEAST one of your kids is gonna come out looking like a goddamn carbon copy of him
(which he has mixed feelings about. on one hand, of course he feels pride in the fact that his kid is carrying on his features. but, on the other, it makes him think about himself as a child, and how much he needs to make sure that his kid has a much better life.)
Sam week 2026, Day 3: LGBTQ+ Sam
TW! internalized transphobia
It could be real
She waited until her brother was dozing off. Once she saw his head slumped down she carefully tiptoed across the room. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she slowly opened her bag and rifled through it. At the very bottom was something she was ashamed of buying, but knew leaving it behind would’ve caused her even more regret.
It was a dress.
A simple brown full-length dress with plaid patterns. It was classy and it felt like something Sam would wear if she was a girl. It was a stupid idea but... here she was, actually about to do it. Her stomach was swirling and she felt a little sick from the anxiety.
One more glance at Dean to make sure he was asleep, and then she sneaked into the bathroom and closed the door, double-checking it was locked. She took some deep breaths and tried to remind herself that she was just experimenting. It didn’t have to mean anything. And yet she knew. Somehow she knew it would mean something big.
She held the dress in her hands, turning it over gently, as if she was holding something divine. It was just a piece of clothing, one that she had never tried before, but already she felt so attached to it. Out of everything in her duffel bag this was the only thing that felt truly hers.
She laid it on top of the toilet lid and then started taking her clothes off one by one, her back to the mirror. It was almost second nature for her to turn from all mirrors. She only looked at herself when she had to shave, and even that seemed insurmountable at times. Not that she especially hated how she looked. She had been called handsome all her life and she was inclined to believe the majority opinion. When she looked at herself in the mirror all she could think was just that it felt… wrong. Like someone had pasted someone else’s face over hers, and she couldn’t get it off or make anyone else see it wasn’t really her. If she looked close enough she could see glimpses of her true face, or at least the one she wanted to have.
Once she was just in her underwear she picked up the dress and put her hands inside of it, her arms holding it up over her head. Her hands found their way out and then the dress just slipped down over her body.
It felt… nice. It was a little loose on her, but she didn’t mind it. She knew there would be places she couldn’t fill, not with her body. That had made it seem like a bad idea, but now that the dress was on her, she realized she didn’t care about that anymore. She ran her fingers through the fabric, smiling.
She adjusted the twisted straps, making them straight. She didn’t remove her hand, instead feeling around her bare shoulders and collarbone. She couldn’t remember ever wearing something this revealing. The thought filled her with some excitement.
It felt really comfortable, but she was scared to see how it actually looked on her. If it looked bad, if it didn’t look right… she might have given up on wearing things altogether. She had never really liked her clothes, but she always wondered if they just weren’t her taste or if it was her body that was the problem. Could anything look good on someone so gangly and awkward?
Well, it was too late to back down now. She knew she had to face this sooner or later. Buying the dress was on impulse, but the feelings behind it were nothing new to her. She thought she could ignore it, but the years had just made that urge grow so big it had started consuming parts of herself. It wouldn't leave her alone until she tried.
Even if this didn’t work, she needed to see. She needed to see herself in a different way, even if for just one moment. Then maybe she’d be able to move on.
Sam took a deep breath and turned around.
She blinked at her reflection in awe. She couldn’t believe it. After all these years of quiet wishing she was finally wearing a dress.
It still looked a little uncanny valley to her. She was painfully aware of her stubble, her broad shoulders, all the signs that reminded her that she was a man. But…
There was a new, exciting thought bubbling underneath the surface. Even if she couldn’t change the fact that she was a man, she had at least learned that she didn’t have to keep doing it in a way she had her entire life. That there were other options out there. Technically nothing was stopping her from changing herself.
She let out a breath and felt tears forming in the corners of her eyes. The invisible tension around her chest was loosening, one anxious knot at a time. This was real. This was real and it could exist and be beautiful. She could be beautiful.
Then there was a knock on the door.
“Hey Sammy, you almost done in there? I gotta take a leak.”
Her heart sank. It was almost as if the lights had dimmed, everything cutting away from the warm, delusional haze into cold and hard reality. This wasn’t a happy moment, this was a sad excuse of a man wearing a discount dress at a dirty motel bathroom. She had to take it off.
“Yeah, just a sec”, her voice wavered. It was thin and sharp, her internal screws being wound up too tight again and making her breathe unsteady.
She rushed to get out of the dress, almost tearing it off her. Then she picked up her clothes from the floor and hastily put them on. She tried to fit the dress into her pockets but it wouldn’t stay in, spilling out like the insides of a gutted man.
Knocking, more impatient than before. Sam gave up and balled the dress into her fist and held it behind her back. With her free hand she wiped the tears from her face and then unlocked the door, letting Dean in.
“Took you long enough.”
Sam avoided his gaze and tried to push past her brother, but Dean wouldn’t let her through. His eyes regarded her curiously.
“What were you doing in here?”
Sam swallowed down the lump in her throat. “None of your business.”
It really wasn’t.
Suddenly Sam realized that her left arm was held too high to be seen as relaxed, so she adjusted her posture and brought the arm behind her back closer to her hips. She tried to be subtle but Dean definitely noticed.
“What’s that?” Dean asked, reaching for it.
“Nothing!” Sam hissed, leaning away from him.
She glared at her brother, wordlessly telling him to back off. Dean lowered his arm slowly, calibrating his options. While Dean was stuck in his thought process Sam saw her way out. She turned and smacked Dean with her elbow, pushing past him. She took big strides, quickly switching the dress from one hand to the other, pressing it close against her stomach.
“Hey!” Dean yelled out. For a moment she was afraid he’d follow her, but then she heard the bathroom door close and lock behind her. She sighed in relief.
She released her fist and gave the dress a once-over, hoping that it wasn’t too wrinkled. She wasn’t sure what to do with it now. Should she keep it? When would she even wear it? She couldn’t… there was no way she could…
She didn’t want to throw it away either. She liked it. And maybe one day, when things would calm down, maybe she could wear a dress like that outside of the bathroom.
She nodded to herself. Yes, she should keep it. Just in case.
She heard the bathroom door open and in a panic she plopped down to the floor, unzipped her bag and stuffed the dress inside. She kicked it underneath her bed and whirled around to see her brother standing there, a serious look on his face.
Dean's eyes bore into her, but Sam just smiled at him a little sheepishly. Her brother was waiting for her to say something but Sam decided to play dumb.
She sat down on her bed and picked up the laptop she had left on it earlier, as if nothing had happened. Dean was still standing there, glancing between her and the duffel bag peeking from underneath her bed.
“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?” he grumbled.
Sam shook her head. She kept her gaze on her laptop screen. She shouldn’t show any fear, because that would set off the alarms. She had to act cool and natural.
Dean left it alone, thankfully. They went to sleep without further discussion. Sam laid in her bed staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dress stuffed in her bag, about her brother finding it and having a fit, and about the teary-eyed girl in the mirror.
When it came time to pack up and leave the next morning, she retrieved her bag from underneath the bed. She opened it and right there on the top was the dress, folded neatly.
She was confused. Had she woken up in the middle of the night and moved it? She couldn’t remember doing so, but…
“You left your bag open.”
She jumped at her brother’s voice. She turned around and saw him sneering at her.
“Dean. How many times have I told you to not touch my shit?” she spat.
Dean scoffed. “What, and let your pretty dress get all wrinkly? No dice homeslice.”
Sam’s face dropped. She looked back at the dress, how it was laid there with care among all the other clothes. Not hidden, not wrinkled, not covering up everything else. It was just there. It looked like it belonged.
It made something stir within Sam. Perhaps hope, or a sense of peace. Whatever it was, it was real and she realized she liked it.
