hi!! my name is ragnar and i am a trans masc young (16 yro) artist!!
i go by he/him pronouns!!!
my main interests are resident evil, silent hill 2, red dead redemption, marvel (MCU), and supernatural !! oh, and I LOVE jensen ackles... (more info on my carrd)
i am just a young boy living my horror filled life to the fullest!! >_< (im not going outside and im staying in my dark room drawing :3)
I've been reading ur ftm reader x dean stuff and OH MY GOD its so so good 😭😭 could we perhaps get some more? I dont rlly care what its about, just pls no nsfw :) tysm <3
oh absolutely, anon !! i do both nsfw and sfw, so no problem at all :) this was meant to be a ficlet, but then it got a bit long... usually i put oneshots on ao3, but with it being down and this being on the short side, it can stay on here !!
DEAN WINCHESTER ⋆˚࿔
† dean winchester x ftm!reader oneshot.
★ childhood!friend!dean, early seasons, fluff, hurt/comfort
⚠︎ gender dysphoria, misgendering (unknowingly), use of [deadname] and [y/n]
synopsis: coming out to dean about your identity.
word count: 1.1k
another late night hunt and another success had been tacked onto your belt as you strolled into the motel room, dean and sam not far behind. you crashed onto your bed—the boys had their own—and stared up at the ceiling. dean had said something to you a few hours earlier that plagued your thoughts, and you hated to even think it, but it was the reason you were feeling sick now.
"let us guys handle this, sweetheart," he said. and although the pet name left your cheeks glowing, the remainder made your chest cave in.
"us guys" meant not you. but there was a problem with it: you are a guy. they just didn't know it yet. and for a while, you didn't even know it. but you'd been slowly figuring it out over the span of years. women's wear that would leave you feeling stiff and awkward. makeup you felt like you had to put on. haircuts that you'd rather style differently. the pit in your stomach that would form any time a mirror came into play. the list goes on. however, you'd gotten to the point of acceptance, but you were scared to tell the others. and especially dean who you had known for almost your whole life—your parents had been friends.
sammy hit the hay first, snoozing away on a pillow, the lamp still bright and in his face. you wondered how he could sleep like that. but then dean sauntered over to you and sat beside you on the bed, and your mind was instantly somewhere else.
"you doin' alright? tonight was pretty ... rough," he said and gave you a shoulder nudge.
"i'm fine. same as always." you took a sip of cold coffee and placed it back down on the cherrywood nightstand.
he grunted and looked at the floor, lost. your tone was different but he couldn't place why or in what way.
"well, how about ... tomorrow ... we uh,"—dean scratched the back of his neck—"get pie?"
you laughed under your breath. of course he's thinking about pie right now.
"there's this diner up the road," he added.
"yeah," you said with a sniffle you meant to hide. "sounds good."
dean furrowed his brows. "have you been crying? hey, woah, what's goin' on?" when sam stirred in bed, he lowered his voice. "are you alright? that thing didn't hurt you back there, did it?"
you shook your head and instinctively hugged yourself, rubbing your arms. "no, nothing like that. i'm fine, dean, really."
but if you knew anything about dean, you knew that wouldn't cut it. he wouldn't rest unless he knew you were 100% okay, safe and sound. if that mentally sound too, then so be it!
he scooted closer to you and took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. "okay, then ... what's up? you've been sort of ... distant ... ever since we torched that sucker."
your thoughts scrambled. do i tell him? do i sweep it under the rug? but your heart thumped loudly in your chest, begging you to tell someone, anyone. it didn't want to be caged anymore. and how could you blame it? concealing your identity like this couldn't be easy, but the fear that dean might look at you differently was a whole other evil. you must have been shaking because now dean was holding you by the shoulders.
"hey, [deadname], wh-what's wrong? talk to me." part of dean wondered if there was something supernatural going on, but he waited to grab any weapons. that would make things worse, obviously, if he was wrong.
"i don't feel..." you sniffled, wiping a tear or two away with the back of your hand. "like a [deadname]."
his head moved back and he loosened his grip on you. "whatdya mean?"
"i mean..." here goes nothing. "i think i'm more of a [y/n]."
dean had all sorts of wrinkles in his forehead as he tried to untangle what you had just said. he was lost. and you couldn't blame him. you hadn't given him a lot to work with after all. you took one of his hands in your own and exhaled.
"dean," you said softly and looked over to make sure sam was still asleep. "i think ... i'm a guy."
"what?" he chuckled. "are you a shapeshifter? because goddamn, i'd be freaked out but actually kinda impressed you'd hid that for so long."
"no. dean. i'm ... i think i'm trans."
his eyes went blank. his grin disappeared to be left with a semi-open mouth. he was really thinking now. and not in a bad way! dean wouldn't judge you for something like this, but he truthfully just didn't have enough information on it. and you knew that, so you gave him a moment to piece things together.
"okay, wait," he said. "trans... like that one character from rocky horror—"
"no," you cut him off. "transgender. that's what it's called."
"right, right. i knew that." he swallowed. "so does that mean... do ya want me callin' you [y/n]?"
you nodded slow, still waiting for this imaginary explosion. you'd never told anyone this before. you bit your nails.
"huh. i actually dig that name. shit, you have a cooler name than me now." his smile returned and he gave you a punch on the shoulder. "but, if you're a guy, i'm teasin' you just like i do sammy. i hope you know that. are you prepared for that sort of treatment, [y/n]?"
you let out a dry laugh. your stomach felt lighter and a dizzying sensation filled your head. he's not mad. he's cool with it. a bright, childish grin appeared on your lips as your eyes sparkled.
"yeah, i think i can handle that," you replied.
"alright." dean slapped his knees, and sam groaned in his sleep. shit, dean murmured. "i uh ... thanks for telling me. i know i'm not the best with this kind of ... stuff. but could you maybe, if you're comfortable and all, tell me more about it? i don't wanna fuck anything up."
you looked down at your lap, the smile turning into a smaller, more serious one. then as you thought about it, you nodded once more.
"cool. hey, uh, instead of pie tomorrow."
your head perked up.
"me and sam, we could go get you a haircut or swipe you some men's clothes. does that sound like a plan? i don't know—"
as he was talking, you threw your arms around him and hugged him tight. a pool of salty tears accumulated on his shoulder as you cried into him, relieved. he hesitated, brows raised, but quickly went to rubbing your back. dean has never been good at comforting people, not even himself. but it felt right, and he couldn't stand to see you cry. the thought that you had been holding this to yourself for so long made him want to cry. he wanted to be your safe place, and he was going to show you that.
"there, there," he said. and maybe you heard it, maybe it was just your imagination, but he added, "it's alright, sweet boy. i got ya."
spoiler: he did say it, and when he realized he said it out loud, his cheeks turned beet red.