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trans-reader-fics ¡ 7 months
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my contribution to 1960s femme aziracrow/ineffable wives because I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT THEM??
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 8 months
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Good Omens 2 + Text Posts
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 9 months
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i'm back bitches (very precedented levels of mental illness)
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 9 months
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Safety — fatherly!Castiel x trans!reader (he/him)
TW/CW: Transphobia, dysphoria, canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of s/icide, references to sh.
Summary: (y/n) ran away from his transphobic home and unknowingly stumbled into a djinn’s lair. Thankfully, the Winchesters and their angel were there to help him. 
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(y/n) shoved his clothes into a worn out duffel bag. He couldn’t stay for any longer; this house was suffocating him, draining him of his will to live, and it became an undeniable fact that he was not welcome anymore. The people who raised him surrendered their title of parents by issuing him an ultimatum. He could either shove himself back into the closet, resigning himself to a suicidal fate, or get the fuck out of their life. So get the fuck out he would. 
He rummaged through every pocket he owned, scraping together as much spare change as possible. He had enough to buy a bus ticket out of town, far away from anyone who knew him. The prospect of nobody caring enough to look for him lingered in the back of his head, only strengthening his resolve to leave. He would not be missed. He would not be hurting anyone.
It would be cheaper to just off yourself. Really, it’s a huge waste to put all this effort in when there’s an easier way out. He entertained these thoughts for longer than he should have, dwelling on them as he walked out the door and began his new life. It was a long walk into the city.
By dusk, (y/n) was exhausted. He had been walking for hours, and in the distance, he saw a warehouse. In better circumstances, he would never consider it. But as it grew nearer, he realized just how heavy his body was, and how dearly he just wanted to collapse into bed.
The warehouse door was already open and (y/n) walked right in. He tiptoed deeper into the building, stepping over empty bottles and cigarette butts. Finding an isolated corner, he curled up against the wall and searched his bag for a blanket. “Damn it,” he grumbled, settling for covering his body in an oversized hoodie. Whispering voices kept him awake for a little while, but he drifted off to sleep, blaming the hisses on his exhaustion. It had been a long day, and he always did have an overactive imagination.
“(y/n)!” His mother called for him. “Wake up, you’ll be late for school!” He stretched and blinked the sleep out of his eyes, before promptly falling back into bed. He hears stomping up the stairs, but he’s not afraid. She pulled the blankets off of him, lovingly ruffling his hair. “Hey! Another late night?” she laughed, her voice tinkling like bells. “C’mon, breakfast is on the table. I’ll drive you, so you don’t have to catch the bus.” She pulled the curtains open, revealing the beginnings of a sunrise. He groaned, rolling out of bed and onto his feet. 
“I’m awake, I’m awake. Had a long night,” he yawned. “Looking for scholarships.” He began pulling on his clothes as soon as he stepped into the bathroom, tugging on a binder and black jeans. “Hey mom?” He popped his head out of the bathroom door, catching his mother right before she descended the flight of stairs. She smiled gently, turning to face him. “I love you.”
“I love you too, hon. Now hurry up! Your food is getting cold.” He laughs before closing the bathroom door and putting the rest of his clothes on. He was so much more confident now that he was out of the closet. Everyone in his life was supportive, and a warmth radiated in his chest. He ran downstairs to eat his breakfast. He approached the kitchen, seeing his father sitting in the same place he always did. 
“Good morning son,” he smiled over his laptop, the clicking of the keys never ceasing. “You might be a little bit late for the bus.” He checks the little white clock hanging over the stove. 
“I’m driving him, honey.” His mother comes over and kisses her husband on the cheek. “Speaking of which,” she looks up at her son. “We gotta head out soon, okay?” She smiled, but it wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. “(y/n), o-” 
“-kay? Are you okay?” a deep voice asked. “Hey, can you hear me?” (y/n) groaned as someone placed a hand on his shoulder. 
“Head hurts.” He grimaced as he tried to open his eyes. “Who are you? I was having such a nice dream.” 
“We,” the man paused, “We’re the Winchesters. You were kidnapped, and monsters found you. But it’s okay, you’re safe now. The monsters are,” the man paused, “dead, they’re dead.” (y/n) finally managed to open his eyes, and he looked around the room. It was even darker than before, but the building looked the same.
“Kidnapped?” He mumbled, still woozy. “That can’t be right, I’m in the same place. I fell asleep. I need to catch the bus out of here.” He felt for his jacket pocket, discovering that he no longer had a coat on, just a loose t-shirt. “Oh fuck. Where’s my coat?” He began to shift, but the man holding him kept him in place. “Hey, let go of me.” He tried to push him off, unsuccessfully. “Let go of me, where’s my fucking coat?” It had been a long time since he had worn only a short sleeved hoodie, although there were seemingly bigger issues at hand.
A tall man with long hair held up a jacket, his jacket, and fished through the pockets. He pulled out a knife, which he placed on a nearby table, and then found the bus schedule. “Uh, Dean?” The tall one looked at his...brother? and pointed at his ticket. “This bus left over 24 hours ago.”
(y/n)’s eyes widened and he bolted up, catching even Dean by surprise. “My bus left? I slept for over a day? What the hell is going on right now?” 
The tall one bolted over to the distressed teen. “Woah. Let’s start closer to the beginning. My name is Sam, Sam Winchester. That one is Dean, he’s my brother. What’s your name?”
(y/n) took a few deep breaths before answering. “My name’s (y/n). I wasn’t kidnapped.”
Dean looked at him, head tilted in confusion. “Where did that come from?” 
“You said I was kidnapped,” he grumbled. “Earlier, when I was lying over there. I wasn’t. I fell asleep in this warehouse. Not,” he paused, his voice trailing off as he thought. “Not over here, but it’s definitely the same place.”
Dean looked at his brother, then back at (y/n). “Okay, well then, where do you live? We’ll take you home, back to your family.”
(y/n) scoffed, his legs shaking as he walked over to his jacket. “Nope,” he slid the knife back into his pocket. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I need a ride into town.”
“(y/n),” Sam shot a pleading look in his direction. “It’s not safe, you’re a kid. Just let us take you home.”
“Look, I’ll spell it out for you. I was kicked out. I’m not welcome there anymore, and even if I was, I’m fucking done. I’m not going back.” He sighed, shrugging his coat on. “Sucks, but it’s what I’ve got.” 
Dean huffed in exhaustion. “Look, we’ll drive you home, explain to your folks that you almost died. If they still don’t want you, then we’ll drive you to the bus station and you’ll be on your merry way.” 
“Oh, please.” (y/n) rolled his eyes. “Skip the denial. Just drive me into town, and if you really feel that bad for me, I wouldn’t say no to a bagel.”
Dean stared at the kid and tapped at his phone, speed-dialing a number. “Cas,” he grumbles. “Sam and I need you. There’s a stubborn kid, and neither of us can talk any sense into her. Come do some angel shit or something.” Instantly, a man materialized in between them. 
“Woah,” (y/n) breathed out, “What the hell?” The angel grabbed his arm, and walked them into a different room. 
“You’re unhappy. Will you tell me why, or do I have to find it myself?” He stared straight at (y/n), his blue eyes barely blinking. 
“That’s blunt of you,” he laughed. “Look, I don’t feel like getting into it. Sure, do whatever.” The man reached over, pressing his hand against (y/n)’s forehead. 
Kicked out. Kicked out. Unloved. Die. Die. Die. Kill yourself. Die. Unwanted. He. He. He. HE. I want to go home. I don’t have a home. Please. Help me. Help me. Kill me. Fucking kill me.
He pulled his hand away. “You’re coming home with us. We have a,” the dark haired man paused. “We call it the bunker. You’ll be safe. I will make sure of that. They will understand.” He begins to walk away, still holding on to (y/n)’s arm.
“What’s your name?” He whispers. “And why are you helping me?”
“Castiel. My name is Castiel, and I am an angel.” He pulled the child back into the first room, where the brothers stood, waiting.
“Well?” Dean groaned, arms crossed. “Where does she live?” (y/n) flinched slightly, but Cas only stood up straighter.
“We’re taking him to the bunker.” With that, Cas led (y/n) out of the warehouse, and sat him in the backseat of the Impala, sliding in next to him. “I will not let anyone hurt you,” he whispered. “You’ll be safe with us. They will accept you. Now sleep.” 
(y/n) glanced at him, skepticism in his eyes. Cas saw this, and he slipped his trenchcoat off, draping it over the teenager’s body. 
“Thank you,” he whispered before dozing off, leaning into Cas’s side. 
He awoke to the slamming of car doors, and the faint noise of arguing. “We can’t keep the kid,” Dean shouted under his breath. “We aren’t parents, and if you haven’t noticed, we kind of have bigger things to deal with right now.”
“Dean.” The angel stated, opening the door to the backseat. “This is not a discussion. I can take care of him, and you were not the one to see inside his head.”
“So tell me,” he begged. “Make me understand.”
Tell him, (y/n) thought. It’s okay, Castiel. You can tell him. Almost as if he heard (y/n)’s thoughts, Cas replied.
“(y/n) is what humans call transgender. His parents were not pleased with this, and he is unable to return to where he used to live. I’m sure you understand that feeling.” He gently readjusted his jacket so that it covered more of (y/n)’s body, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Dean froze in his steps, his furrowed brows and clenched jaw betraying his rage. “We’re keeping him. Let’s get him inside.”
He sat up slowly, eyes still heavy with sleep. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll be on my way tomorrow. I won’t be a bother.” Dean turned to look at him, and his face began to fall. 
“No need for that, kid. You’re staying. Besides, Cas would kick my ass if I let you leave.” He chuckled, while Cas let out a heavy sigh; (y/n) saw a hint of a smile cross his face as he did so.
“Rest, (y/n). We will talk more in the morning. For now, just rest.” Cas reached out and brushed a spare tuft of hair behind (y/n)’s ear. 
He woke in someone’s bed, in a tidy, barely lived in room, under blankets that smelled like cinnamon. As soon as he sat up, there were three knocks at the door. Dean walked in immediately after, and (y/n) could tell it was his room.
“Fuck,” (y/n) sighed, burying his head in his hands. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I stole your bed, didn’t I. Sorry, I should’ve taken the couch, I-”
“Hey, hey, kid it’s okay.” Dean smiled and sat on the side of the bed, next to his legs. “I offered, and besides, there’s plenty of rooms with beds in here. The bunker is huge.”
(y/n) opened his mouth to protest, but from the doorway, Cas cut him off. “We want to help you. Do you plan to keep fighting it?”
“I, um,” He took a deep breath. “I don’t trust favors. What do you want in return?”
“For you to try not to kill us.” Dean paused. “Sorry Cas. Wrong answer?”
“Wrong answer,” Cas confirmed, “But yes. Please don’t try to kill us. We want to help you, and you are welcome to stay with us. Indefinitely.”
(y/n) smiled. Something in Cas’s deadpan delivery made him trust the angel, and he started to get out of bed. “Thank you. All of you. I think...” he took a deep breath. “I think I’ll stay a while.”
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 9 months
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masterlist <3
Reblogs and comments are encouraged! It makes my day when I see someone like my writing! 
All TW/CWs are at the top of my fics :)
Supernatural
Sleeping in the Impala - (they/them), no ship, 666 words
Birthday Baking - (he/him), Dean x reader, 3.4k words
Soft Hearts - (they/them), Jack x reader, 648 words
Sins of the Father - (he/him), Brother!Dean x reader, 2.2k words
Happy Anniversary - (he/him), Deancas x son!reader, 1.3k words
Safety — (he/him), fatherly!Castiel x reader (he/him), 2k words
Criminal Minds
And They Were Roommates - (he/him), Ace!Spencer Reid x Ace!reader, 1.4k words
Guesses and Sweaters - (he/him)
Part 1 - no ship yet,  2.5k words
Part 2 - no ship yet, 1.3k words
Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice - Bakery Headcanons! - (they/them)
Boys - 1.5k words
Girls - 1.4k words
Unconditional - (they/them), Emily Prentiss x Reader, 709 words
Don’t Burn Your Bridges - (he/him), Aaron Hotchner x trans teen!Reader, 957 words
Before You’ve Crossed Them - (he/him), Aaron Hotchner x trans teen!Reader, 1.9k words
Chopsticks - (he/him), Spencer Reid x Reader, 1.9k words
BAU Headcanons
Coming Out (In Style) - (he/him), Criminal Minds x trans!Reader, 3.0k words
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 1 year
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pls,,.,,
Anyway if this post reaches 30000 notes I'll sit down and professionally film a Goncharov movie scene you can send to people who claim it's not real. This is completely serious, I've made movies before and I'm willing to do it for the memes.
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 2 years
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Could you do a Will Byers fic where the reader is trans? Will can be of legal age, please. <3
ah i’m so sorry, i’ve never seen stranger things ^^;
maybe check out @taiyothewriter? they might be a better person to ask! <3
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 2 years
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I've been making emotes lately! these are for my coffeecake server on discord, but I've also just done a set for my dnd group I'll rb this with here in a sec
y'all are welcome to use these cat emotes, but I'd appreciate a link back when u upload them so folks can find me (or a ko-fi!)
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 2 years
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It might be midnight on the dot but I know I’m not to first one to post this
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 2 years
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hi besties the minute i stop being a depressed lump i’ll start writing again!!!
sadly my criminal minds hyperfixation is over,,, but!! i’m neck deep in bnha(caught up on manga) and the witcher(currently mid s2) rn :)
requests are both open and encouraged— they’re motivating!!! just please have patience, it’s,,, it’s finals week :’) /gen
rules:
no nsfw
i am a minor!! therefore i will only write x students and x PARENTAL!adults. exceptions might be made if you want to age down someone
(edit: my ao3 is jamicar for some bnha fics already posted)
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 2 years
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Ukraine, 26th Feb, 2022
A friend of mine told me yesterday that he didn’t realise how much Ukraine meant to him until now. I posted yesterday about the time we spent there, and we’re all getting super pre-occupied about the invasion. As I said in that post, I can’t get our waitress out of my head. I can sort of remember what she looked like now. She had an undercut. I think maybe her hair might have been blue? But - I will never know if she lives through this, and it’s driving me very slightly mad.
So naturally, my husband spent all day yesterday obsessively researching everything he could about it with the help of his journalist friends, as a way to help me process it.
This post is me putting it all in order, as a way to try and process my own emotional response as much as anything else (I freely admit there is an element of self-indulgence here). Please don’t take me as the spokesperson for Ukraine right now, nor as a solid reliable news source. But, I haven’t seen this stuff except in bits and pieces on Tumblr, so here we go.
(This is also not about why the invasion has happened. This post is solely about what has happened, and how the invasion is going.)
So, Putin and the rest of the world believed that this invasion would take 1-4 days. The plan was to push through fast, take Kyiv, and force Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the Ukrainian President, to surrender. Given Russia’s military might, it really looked likely.
Here is the conclusion of all that’s happened so far:
Ukraine is absolutely nailing this??? Actually???
They managed to defend every single city overnight, including Kyiv. They started rolling out and using these WW2-style anti-tank thingies that look a bit like angry gabbions, look, here’s a picture of one being delivered:
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A bunch of spare iron girders turned into a hefty octopus of Russian misery, basically.
But it’s not just tanks they’re taking down, oh no. Ukraine successfully shot down a transport plane 20km from Kyiv. That is, I shit you not, the single biggest hit to the Russian military since the Second Chechen War. Volunteers from Lithuania, Poland, Latvia, Estonia, Azerbaijan and Israel are all entering Ukraine to help fight and bolster the anti-Russian forces, which is probably illustrative of how Eurovision voting is going to run for the next decade. Most countries have banned Russian planes from their air space. To help stop the Russian advance, Ukraine has made and installed new road signs, like this one:
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I can only say a handful of sentences in Ukrainian, Tumblrs, but as I understand it, from top to bottom, it says:
“Fuck off”
“Fuck off again”
“Fuck off Russia”
Meanwhile, it turns out the Russian military might we feared is… possibly not quite as advertised?
They’re underfunded and badly trained. Ukraine captured 200 soldiers in one go, and most of them were confused 19 year olds with no training. The equipment is shite. The tanks keep running out of fuel. Russian soldiers keep abandoning their tanks and handing them over to the Ukrainian army. Putin’s plan was to take Kyiv fast and move on, and he didn’t have a plan B - hence these kids, playing soldier. Here is an image of a Russian tank receiving roadside assistance from Russia’s finest, an old Lada.  
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No one expected Zelenskyy to survive the night; but he did. America offered him asylum in the White House.
But he said no. 
Zelenskyy remains in Kyiv, with his people.
And Putin, in his desperation to be adored, has turned Zelenskyy into a global icon and hero.
Here is something you may not know about Volodymyr Zelenskyy - he used to be a standup comedian. Was he any good? No idea - but what he IS good at is producing funny short videos he can put on Twitter and that, which are absolutely fantastic for Ukrainian morale. And morale is vital in an invasion like this, and Ukraine are smashing it out of the park there.
They are utilising the internet to its fullest extent. In addition to Zelenskyy’s videos, they’ve made sure that the final words of the Ukrainian defenders of Snake Island are known and now echoed around the world: “Russian warship, go fuck yourselves.” A video has gone viral of Ukrainians mocking a group of Russian soldiers whose tank had broken down and who didn’t know the way to Kyiv anyway, presumably because of all the new road signs. They have created a website that lists every single Russian death they can identify, partly so Russian mothers can have closure (thus also painting themselves as the defenders of decency and humanity), and partly for the enormous morale boost of the world knowing, categorically, that they’ve already killed 3700 Russian soldiers (over 100 of which were from that transport plane.)  Not one word has leaked of Ukrainian casualties. I’m sure they’re devastating, but for morale purposes, they’re being kept quiet until the dust settles. Ukrainians have started setting up fake Tindr profiles to catfish Russian soldiers for intel, and they’re all 19 and lost, so it’s working. Plus, they’re using Grindr to actually track where the soldiers are, because it turns out Putin was not entirely correct about there being no gays in Russia.
So, Russia wants to cut their internet access. Can the Ukrainian Minister for Digital Transformation, Mykhailo Fedorov, shame a billionaire into providing aid?
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This is crucial, remember. Atrocities happen best in the dark, and the world is watching - because of the internet. Morale is vital to maintain. Can they convince Elon Musk to help?
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Yep.
Ukraine now has the fastest internet service in the world. The fastest, most stable internet service in human history, in fact. Russia cannot now disable it. The world watches.
Which is just as well, because then Anonymous decided to get involved, and have leaked the website database of the Russian Ministry of Defence. Lol. Also this happens:
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And then the Russian propaganda channels started broadcasting the truth of what is happening in Ukraine. Double lol.
So what is the political response?
Well, in addition to closing airspace to Russian planes, loads of countries are sending weapons to Ukraine. Those that can’t are offering asylum. They’re also offering asylum to any Russian soldiers who surrender or defect, which is startlingly good tactics, and there are rumours of around 5000 Russian soldiers who have done just that. Germany, of course, has long had a block on lethal weapons transfer; but Germany recognise this shit for what it is. They’ve lifted the block, thus allowing the Netherlands to send weapons. Efforts are now underway to fast-track Ukraine into the EU. I presume they will consider the lack of pint glasses with crowns on to be a worthwhile price to pay.
So what about Russia’s supporters?
Belarusian leader Alexander Lukashenka helped Russia with this invasion. Now, this has happened:
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Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya was actually elected president, but some wild nonsense kept her out of power. She’s now running a government in exile. I have literally no idea what this means or will mean! But my god. She has a spine of steel, and this is not a good time to be happening for Putin. 
And it’s really, really not, because then intel on a meeting of Putin and assembled Oligarchs LEAKS (hello Anonymous, probably). The highlights:
This war is costing Russia $15bn a day
He expected it to take ONE TO FOUR DAYS TO WIN
It’s been two days and he is losing very badly, currently
They will run out of rockets by day 4, maybe sooner
After that they will be down to rifles and ammo
It will take 3-4 months to make more significant weapons, except they need raw materials, and the countries that can provide them… have cut supply lines
If the war lasts 10 days, Russia will have completely run out of money and weapons
It’s only day 2, and Russian soldiers are knocking the doors of random Ukrainian homes begging for food and water because they’ve already run out
So, out of desperation, Putin turns to his greatest, closest and most trusted ally for help: Kazakhstan. 
And Kazakhstan
SAYS NO
And then Ukraine shoots down a second Russian plane.
Anyway, I’m going to finish off with a final point. Morale is vital in this situation, so here is the message from the Ukrainian government at the minute, to everyone watching around the world:
Be VERY SUSPICIOUS of any negative news about Ukraine. Russia uses misinformation and propaganda. They will want to damage Ukrainian morale.
Use your social media to spread news of Ukrainian victories. 
Don’t give oxygen to negative stories. Especially since they might not be true.
That’s genuinely something we can do to help. Every victory of Ukraine, blast it far and wide. So on that note, I’ll leave you with this:
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Congrats to Natalia Antonova’s cousin’s son.
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 3 years
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This post is a hug transmitter for the transgender community.
like or reblog to send a virtual hug out into the universe for a trans person in need. If that trans person is you, take a look at the notes and know that there are that many people here to support you.
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 3 years
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u know what, even if my writing isnt the BEST, i still made it all on my own. like there was a blank word doc and i filled it up with my own words, my own story. i took what was in my head and i made it a real thing. idk i feel like that alone is something to be proud of.
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 3 years
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dammit. tumblr making a subscription feature wasn’t on my 2021 bingo card.
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 3 years
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Happy Anniversary -- Deancas x son!reader (he/him)
TW/CW: Food mentions, light swearing (uncensored), canon-typical mentions of s/x, but nothing actually shown. Mentions of J*hn’s bad parenting.
Summary: They’ve been dating for four years, and somewhere along the line, they picked (y/n) up. To celebrate their fourth anniversary-- their first anniversary with a son-- they do something special.
Guys this has been in my drafts since literally January fifth. 
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The night before, Dean couldn’t sleep. He laid in bed with his lover, his angel, his Cas, and stared at the ceiling. Every once in a while, he felt the mattress shift, and he turned to check on the sleeping man beside him. After four years, he still wasn’t used to sleeping next to the angel. Hell, he didn’t think he would ever get used to it-- the domesticity, the gentleness, the pure love-- he had never had this. It was the kind of love you saw in the movies and scoffed at. It wasn’t real, and if it were, it would be when you found a hot woman at a sleazy bar, and fucked in the cheap motel across the road. 
Castiel changed that. He didn’t even know what he was feeling was love. Cas made him understand. He knew, suddenly, why Sam had been devastated by Jess’s death; why John had abandoned everything, even his own children, to get revenge for his wife. Dean shuddered as he remembered the fires, promising to never let anything hurt Cas. 
“Dean,” Cas mumbled. “C’mon. Sleep.” He threw an arm around the Winchester, pulling them together. Dean rolled over, wrapping Cas in his arms, holding him tight.
“I love you,” He whispered as he buried his face into the angel’s hair. He kissed his head gently, tightening his hold briefly. “Now and forever.”
“I know,” he whispered back, reaching up to squeeze Dean’s hand. “And I love you too.” Dean slowly relaxed, telling his negative thoughts to go to hell, and slowly fell asleep to the sound of Cas’s steady breathing.
He had less nightmares now. Maybe it was because they gave up hunting, or perhaps time really did heal all wounds, but it was a welcome change. And when he did have a nightmare, his lover was right there next to him.
The sun shone through little gaps in the curtains, painting sunstripes across the room. In the faint golden light, Cas seemed to glow, and Dean gently clutched his hand. They had long since given up on alarm clocks; there was no point to waking up early when there were no threats. “Happy anniversary, lover boy,” Dean whispered into his ear before standing up and stretching quietly. He tiptoed out of the room, heading down the near silent hall.
Stopping at a colorfully decorated door, he cracked it open and peeked in. “Well good morning kiddo,” he grinned at his son, who sat awake and reading a fairy tale book on his bed. 
“Morning dad!!” He jumped up, running to hug him. “Where’s papa?” 
Dean smiled, ruffling his hair. Adopting this little ray of sunshine had been one of the best decisions he ever made. “Well, it’s a very special day today.” he pressed a finger to the child’s lips in a shushing motion. “Four years ago, your papa and I said that we love each other.”
(y/n)’s eyes widened and he bounced on his toes. “Can we make an extra special surprise for him?” He looked up at Dean with begging eyes. “Please?”
“You read my mind, buddy. Wanna make him some extra special ‘I love you’ pancakes?” He grabbed (y/n)’s hand and walked him down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“Yeah!” he squealed, tugging on Dean’s hand. “C’mon, faster! We gotta surprise him!”
Dean swore when he saw this kid that no harm would ever come to him. He remembered his own childhood, how he was forced to play mother and father at a young age. He hardly remembered ever being this happy, but Mary told him some stories when she came back. He smiled sadly, knowing that she would’ve loved (y/n).
“You’re right, kid. We gotta hurry. In fact,” he let his voice trail off, and picked the kid up, running down the halls with (y/n) over his shoulder. He giggled in delight, holding on to Dean’s hair.
When they got to the kitchen, Dean put him down, slightly out of breath. “Pancakes, dad, pancakes!” (y/n) ran to the pantry, finding the box of pancake mix and putting it on the counter. He was still a little short to use the counter, but he didn’t let that stop him. “We need milk!” He pulled it out of the fridge, clutching it to his chest so that he wouldn’t drop it. 
“Wow, you’re so strong,” Dean chuckled, getting an egg from the still-open fridge. He also grabbed some measuring cups and a bowl. He did all the measuring, with an excited child clinging to his leg, but he let (y/n) do the mixing. He spooned a few circles of batter onto a buttered griddle, smiling at the quiet sizzling noises. “Do you think papa would want some bananas with his pancakes?”
(y/n) cheered and ran over to the fruit bowl sitting on the counter next to the sink. “Can I cut up the bananas?”
“Sure, buddy.” Dean flipped the pancake and helped his son get a butter knife and cutting board. “Can you peel the banana?” He nodded excitedly, his small hands grasping the end of the banana. It took him a moment of twisting, but the banana peel cracked open. 
“Dad, dad, look!” He proudly held the peeled banana up to Dean’s face.
“Wow,” he nodded in approval. “Soon enough, you’ll be a better banana peeler than your papa and I. We’ll have to ask you for help peeling our bananas.”
(y/n) giggled and turned to the cutting board. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to cut the banana into even slices. They were a little lopsided, but as Dean turned to plate the pancakes, his heart swelled with pride. He hadn’t known how intensely he yearned for this life; until they adopted (y/n), this sort of domestic life was a fantasy, a sweet nothing that he dreamt about while he laid in bed. Seeing his son beam up at him? That was real, and that was good, and he would do anything to protect that innocence.
“I did it!” He clapped, still holding the butter knife. Dean knew that it was harmless, but his heart dropped when he saw the waving knife.
“Hey, hey, kiddo,” he rushed over, stilling his hands. “Let’s not do that with a knife, okay?” 
“Okay,” he giggled and placed the knife on the table before resuming his clapping.
“Now c’mere, lets put the bananas on the pancake.” They arranged the banana slices into a heart, and Dean drizzled maple syrup over the whole thing. “Let’s bring it to papa, okay? We gotta be real quiet so we don’t wake him up.”
The pair tiptoed down the hallway, Dean carrying the tray. He knew, technically, that Cas didn’t see the point in eating. How he tasted each individual molecule, not the food as a whole. That just meant more pancake for himself and (y/n).
“GOOD MORNING PAPA!” (y/n) shouted as they opened the bedroom door. “Look, look, we made you pancakes! Happy I love you day!” The child ran up, tackling Cas in a hug. He didn’t quite know what an anniversary was yet, but his excitement was contagious. Dean placed the tray on their bedside table and leaned over to kiss Cas.
“Morning angel,” he murmured as (y/n) stuck his tongue out in childish disgust. “Happy anniversary.”
“Good morning,” Cas smiled into the kiss. “I see you made some pancakes.”
“All for you,” Dean pulled away and placed the tray over Cas’s lap. “Well, mostly for me and (y/n).”
"I can see that," he gestured towards the young boy, already trying to sneak a banana slice off the plate.
In that moment, there was just love. The room was filled with it, and it was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Cas and Dean embracing each other on the bed, watching their son run around with glee, relishing the little life that they carved out for themselves. This was theirs. Their little corner of the world, safe from monsters and demons and gods.
And may God help the poor fool who tries to take it away from them.
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 3 years
Text
[gently hugs (with consent)] I hope you know that I would both die and murder for you all
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trans-reader-fics ¡ 3 years
Note
Hello!! Could you write a little something about how if each character from criminal minds would react to the reader coming out and maybe about what they do on days the reader is feeling very uncomfortable and how they would react. I love your work so much!!
Okay I absolutely loved this request, it was so fun to write! I hope you like it :)) (also, there were no pronouns specified so I used he/him, but I can definitely edit it for they/them, just let me know!! /genuine)
Here’s the link!
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