#genderfluid sam

[arualthecolorfulfreak]

Having a genderfluid partner expectations:

Reality:

It’s funny to me that Boyd in my Au is very attractive and would be a great model but has terrible sense of style if someone else won’t pick out his clothes he will just look like a clown

[nonbinary-witch-sam]

happy pride sam is transgender and fucks nasty

[the-gray-ghosty]

Sam goes by "Queen of Hell" and "King of Hell" and when they're feeling nb they go by just "Your Majesty" or "Their Majesty of Hell"

A few demons with senses of humor call Sam "Captain" or "Chief"

[fivefeetfangirl]

Day 2: coming out

written for @transnaturalweek

ao3 wc ~ 663

cw: a little angsty

follow up to these (x) (x) but can be read alone too

w*ncesties dni

Sam and Dean were once again sitting outside the motel watching the sunset. Dad was out on a hunt, and he had taken the Impala. That meant no late night trips for Sam and Dean. Dean liked sitting by the motels more than he liked driving. It had never been fun to drive; Dad had ruined that too. One day he might get his own car and then he would take Sammy and leave. He didn’t know where, but he knew he wanted to leave. And so did Sammy.

“Dean?” 

Dean hummed, turning his head from the sun to look at Sam.

“Do you ever just want to leave? Live your life the way you want to?” 

Sam rested his head on his arms and looked up at Dean with big warm eyes. There was a sadness behind them, and Dean was unsure if Sam was gonna begin to cry or if it was just the sun reflecting in his eyes.

“And do what?” Dean asked back. He turned his head, not wanting his face to betray how much he really wanted another life. 

“I don’t know.” Sam closed his eyes and warmed his face in the sun. “Settle down, get married, have kids.”

Dean didn’t answer. He knew that that was exactly what he wanted. But he couldn’t tell Sam that. He had to make the best out of their current situation, and daydreaming about another life wouldn't help. 

“Eat proper food,” Sam muttered. “Not own any weapons.”

Dean gasped. He knew it had been hard the last couple of months, but he didn’t know it had affected Sam that much. He slid to the side, his thigh touching Sam’s, and wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulder. Sam brought his arms closer to Dean, and pressed his face into Dean’s chest. 

At first Dean thought Sam was crying but it seemed like he just shuffled around a bit. Hopefully the kid was thinking of much better stuff. 

“Do you think Dad will accept me as I am?” came a muffled voice from underneath Dean’s arm. “He doesn’t accept you.”

Dean had some suspicions but he didn't want to  pressure Sam into telling him anything he wasn’t ready for. He knew Sam would tell him when he was ready.

“I guess that depends on who you are,” Dean answered and laid his chin on top of Sam’s head. 

“What if I’m-” Sam trailed off, he sounded nervous so Dean was quiet, letting him take his time, “not a boy.”

“That’s okay,” Dean whispered into Sam’s hair.

“But for Dad?”

“Probably not.” 

Dean kissed the top of Sam’s head, pressing him a little closer towards him. He started to pick on a loose thread on Sam’s dress. He was the one who gave it to him, and nothing more had made him more happy than seeing his little sibling’s face light up with joy.

They sat quiet for a while, watching the sun go down, their shadows getting longer and longer, until they faded out in the dark. Dad wouldn’t be home until the day after tomorrow, and Sam had done all his homework before dinner; they could sit outside for as long as they wanted.

“But like, I’m not a girl either,” Sam spoke, continuing on the conversation from earlier. “I’m just, in the middle.”

Sam lifted his head and looked up at Dean, his hair falling into his eyes. Dean smiled softly, using the scrunchie he had around his wrist to put up half of Sam’s hair. Sam smiled back as a thank you.

“That’s okay too.” Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead. “I love you no matter what.”

Sam broke into a wide smile. He threw himself around his older brother, hiding his face against his neck. Dean held Sam tight, one hand on the back, one in his hair. He felt the tears in his eyes sting, but instead he closed his eyes and hoped for a better life.

[nonbinary-witch-sam]

okay but which sam is your sam

transmasc sam

transfemme sam

nonbinary sam

genderfluid sam

cis sam (wrong answer)

Voting ended onFeb 3, 2023

[fivefeetfangirl]

Day 1: team free will

written for @transnaturalweek

ao3 wc~ 1.9k

tw: transphobia and abusive parenting (it does end well)

Dean had realized he was trans when he was thirteen. Dad never let him cut his hair so he did it himself. It had been long and a lot blonder. Dad said it was like Mom’s, but Dean couldn’t remember her being that long. And he had cut it all off. Pressing the scissors close against his scalp. Sam had helped him, holding his hair as Dean had cut it. 

Dad hadn’t been home right after, giving Dean a couple of days to adjust and prepare for his Dad’s reaction. It hadn’t exactly helped, he knew from the beginning that his Dad would be furious. And he had been. He had called Dean a disgrace to his mother’s memory and that he looked like a boy. At the word boy Dean’s heart had fluttered.

That’s exactly what I want, Dean had thought. 

Dad had gotten over it surprisingly quickly, especially after he figured it was more functional to have a son rather than a daughter. He still watched over Sam, made food, washed their clothes, but Dad would now send him out to get stuff for him, sneak out, steal. Dean didn’t mind, he wanted to please his Dad. 

Soon Dad wanted to teach him to shoot a gun, like every man ought to know he had said. So of course Dean had practiced day and night. It wasn’t much longer until Dad had taken him on his first hunt. Dean had been really excited. He wanted so badly to make his father proud, show him that he had learned. It didn't end up as planned and Dad had yelled at him for being too scared to shoot the monster, calling him a girl. Dean had felt the tears sting behind his eyes, but he refused to cry, he couldn’t cry, not now, not ever in front of his father. 

He did cry though, wrapped in the thick duvet in his motel bed, Sam sleeping in the bed next to him, Dad out in the bar. Stifled sobs, only visible by the slight shaking of his shoulders. A soft hand had taken Dean’s, and he knew that it was Sam. He opened his arms, letting Sam in under the duvet. They slept in Dean’s bed the whole night, Sam wiping away Dean’s tears and whispering how good Dean was. 

The next few hunts didn’t go much better. Dean fucked up, got yelled at, and cried in his bed at night. Slowly he did get better, managed gravedigging, burning the bones, and later he also managed to shoot salt rounds. Salt was a lot easier than real bullets. There was no blood, no real wound. It wasn’t human. 

On his seventh hunt he had shot a shapeshifter. Silver bullet to the heart, the creature had died instantly. Dad had been so proud of him for that kill, and he had clapped Dean on the back, telling him he was a real man. That still didn’t stop Dean from crying in bed, thinking about the shifter that had rotted away when he shot it. 

When Sam had travelled away for college Dean became a part of every hunt. He and Dad were inseparable. Dad was the only male figure, only role model at all, in his life so Dean started copying him. His music, how he sat, the way he held a gun, his talking pattern. Dad was a real man and Dean wanted to be him so bad. But nothing he did would ever be good enough. 

Two years later Dad disappeared too. So Dean got his top surgery done. He stayed with Cassie for a while, until he felt that he became a burden. Then with Bobby. It was easier at Bobby’s. There was work to do, and he worked on the cars there. He felt happy for the first time in so long. Bobby had always respected him, and sometimes Dean wished Bobby had been his real father. In some ways he was, but not in ways that mattered the most. 

He picked up Sam from college six months after his top surgery, making sure he got some rest before a new adventure called on him. Sam had been reluctant to go at first but when he finally did agree to come with Dean, Dean had felt this jumpy happiness in his stomach. He was together with his brother again, a brother who looked at him like a big brother and not a big sister, and they were gonna do what they did best: kill monsters. 

When Sam had been eleven he asked Dean to not cut his hair. At first it had started as rebellion against Dad. He didn’t like to cut his hair short, he didn’t want to be like Dad. Dad didn’t seem to mind it. Or, more like he didn’t care. Sam was fine with that. Dean had told them it looked good and that was enough for Sam.

At their new school a girl had asked to braid their hair. He had said yes and he came home with two small braids right under his ears. Dean told him they were cute and then ruffled the top of his head carefully so as not to undo the braids. Dad hadn’t been home that day, and that was probably for the best.

The next day Sam had asked the same girl if she could teach them to braid. She happily did, and even though Sam’s french braid wasn’t nearly as good as hers he was still proud of themselves for managing it. He did get better with practice, which he did every morning when Dad wasn’t home. They had gotten caught once when Dad came home and Dad hadn’t even yelled. He had just looked disappointed at them, and went to bed. 

Sam didn’t know what to think of his Dad’s reaction, but he knew he wasn’t good. He stopped braiding his hair, instead keeping it in a bun or just down. Dean had commented on it, asking him why he stopped wearing the braids. 

They were cute, Dean had said about the braids, suited you. Sam smiled, happy that someone cared about them. But he still wouldn’t wear them as often as he had. 

One day he asked Dean if he had any of his old dresses. Dean rummaged through his duffel, finding an old dress of his. Sam had taken it carefully into his hands when Dean handed it over, as if afraid that the fabric would unravel at their touch. Dean urged him into the bathroom, wanting to see them in the dress. 

As he put it on he stood in front of the mirror looking at himself. The dress was a little tight under the arms, but he really liked the flowers on it. And the fabric was so soft. Almost silky as they swayed from side to side, feeling the fabric run around their legs.

He got out of the bathroom and Dean gasped when he saw him. He had called him beautiful and Sam started tearing up. Dean came over to hug him and kissed the top of his head. 

After that Sam would put on the dress whenever Dad was out for a hunt. When he wasn’t on a hunt Sam would hide it deep down in his bag, careful so his Dad wouldn’t see. 

When Sam graduated high school they got tired of hiding. They knew they had gotten in on Stanford, and they wanted to leave immediately. He wanted to wear dresses and braids whenever he wanted. He wanted to use different pronouns. 

They met Jess during their third year in pre-law. She was studying journalism, and they had an ethics class together. She had asked him out for coffee, and when Sam had told her he was genderfluid she had immediately asked for his pronouns. Sam felt his heart ache; knowing that people were so open and respectful showed them how much they had missed in life. Dean had always respected him, helped him braid his hair, bought a dress for his birthday, but it wasn’t the same as having the world acknowledge his identity. He didn’t need to hide from anyone anymore. So he told her he used he and they. She smiled and said she would remember that.

After finishing pre-law Dean had come back to get him. Jess had died and Sam felt so lonely. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t see them or talk to them, but Dean wasn’t Dean anymore. He was much more like their father. Sam found it hard to connect with him again. But they both fell into old habits quickly, goofing around, and telling jokes. Dean understood his struggles with grief and helped him the best he could. 

In the end they were happy and content with their big brother. 

Cas had never had a gender when he was an angel. Nobody ever told him he was a man or a woman, and Castiel didn’t really mind it. He never felt like any gender, and that was okay for him. Until he had gotten his first vessel. 

At first it hadn’t been a difference. It was just a woman’s body. The boobs got in the way sometimes, and he didn’t like how the long dress made him trip. But the vessel worked, it was enough for the job so Cas couldn’t complain. 

He knew there were male vessels, Ishim had one, but it wasn’t that different was it? The male vessel didn’t have boobs, and Ishim never wore dresses either. Castiel always wondered how it would be to have a flat chest. 

In some ways he was happy when the female vessel had died. She had been old and he needed to change her out soon anyways. It was nice getting rid of a vessel he didn’t like. He didn’t get a new vessel right away but he knew that next time he wanted a male vessel. 

And he got his wish. When God sent him down to Hell to rescue Dean Winchester he got a male vessel. It felt right, as if it fit him like a hand in a glove. Like a warm comfortable shell surrounding him, moving just the right way. 

When he raised Dean from perdition he saw Dean’s scars. They were beautiful. They showed Castiel Dean’s story, without Dean having to say anything. And Castiel realized then what his, Jimmy’s scars were. 

Is this how I am too? Castiel has asked himself as he rebuilt Dean’s body. He had let the scars be, not wanting to erase Dean’s story. 

Dean and Sam saw Cas as a man. Cas liked that. He liked when they called him he or buddy or man. He liked that he was a man. He had a gender now, one that he liked, that felt right. 

Cas had told Dean he was trans after they defeated Chuck. At first Dean didn’t understand, Cas had been a male angel hadn’t he? So Cas explained how angels had no gender and how he himself never felt connected to any gender. Until now. 

As Dean undressed Cas for the first time that night, he kissed Cas’ scars, their fingers intertwined. Nobody had ever shown him love like that. And Dean understood. He knew what it was like being trans. 

For the first time since walking down on the earth Cas was happy in the arms of his loved one.

[maydei]

sam winchester with a manbun and cut-neck teeshirts that hang off his shoulders when it gets even a little warm so he can claim it’s because of the heat. sam winchester with a little almost-nude eyeliner because he’s still embarrassed that he likes wearing it. sam winchester coloring his thumbnails with purple marker because he can pass it off as ‘boredom’ when dean frowns at it for too long. sam winchester covertly buying cherry chapstick “by accident” that he wears almost every day anyway. sam winchester wearing braided hemp jewelry and saying all the guys in california did it.

sam winchester subtly pushing the boundaries of gender-nonconformity in small ways as he builds his confidence in himself, and gauging dean’s acceptance.

dean winchester no longer teasing sam about the length of his hair. dean winchester buying a pack of colored hair ties that he leaves singles of in random places for sam to find. dean winchester sucking it up and buying a manicure set that he leaves in the bunker bathroom because “his hangnails are really killing him and a little fingernail hygiene never hurt anyone”. dean winchester stealing sam’s chapstick by accident and saying sam’s the smart one because this kind actually tastes pretty okay. dean winchester giving the samulet back to sam on a gold chain, because sam’s the one with the faith and it looks better on him, anyway.

dean winchester quietly doing everything he can to support his brother, no matter the way his gender identity presents itself. because dean has always loved sam for the person he is on the inside, and not what he looks like on the outside.

[sarcasticshysociopath]

Genderfluid Sam