When Mike Wheeler, red faced and still faintly tear stained, asks him how he knew he liked both Steve doesn’t know how to tell him it was his sister.
Before Nancy Wheeler it had only been boys. Before Nancy Wheeler Steve had been sure he was gay and knew well enough to keep it to himself; dating around enough to earn himself a protective reputation. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Marcus Summers, from the baseball team, during freshman year. Steve had gone to every game, and had been forced to make up excuses about schoolwork and his other commitments when asked why he hadn’t tried out for himself. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Tommy Hagan. The summer between seventh and eighth grade had been very kind to Tommy, he was sunkissed and boy next door sweet, Steve had wanted to hold his hand and count the freckles across the bridge of his nose.
Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been his first love, a boy who only visited one summer, the year Steve turned ten. His name had changed every time they hung out but he’d favored E’s. Eli, Emmett, Elliott, Eric, Excalibur, Excelsior, and once for about an hour Wayne. His hair brushed his chin in pretty brown curls and his big brown eyes were always bright with excitement. He always got storm off mad when any of the other boys they’d played with that summer said he was acting like a girl, E would run off to the woods and Steve would always follow. E always came up with the best games anyway, he didn���t like playing soccer or HORSE or anything else with rules that couldn’t be bent; he preferred imagination games where they were knights or wizards. He didn’t laugh when Steve said he always liked playing house, but never wanted to be the dad because why would he want to be someone who never wanted to spend any time with his kids. E who, while insisting on being called Samwise all day, was his first kiss.
Cause he knows what Mike wants to hear. He’s seen the way Mike and Will have danced around each other since the last portal closed. He’s heard the things Mike has said to and about Will. He’s heard all about the week that Will was in the Upside Down. He’s heard all about the summer of ‘85. He’s heard all about the final off again that seems to officially mark the end of Mike and El romantically. He knows that Mike wants him to say that he’d never even thought about boys before he met Eddie. That there’s just something special about Eddie that makes him want to give up his lady killing ways. That Eddie was different. That it was okay that he was having these scary new thoughts, maybe Will was just an exception.
And Steve doesn’t know how to have that conversation. When he realized he liked both it was a relief, that maybe he could have something normal and wouldn't have to spend his life lying or hiding.
But Eddie was different. Eddie was special. Eddie was probably it for Steve which is scary in a different way that he’s not ready to touch yet -- not when it’s only been three months.
There’s never been another girl since Nancy Wheeler, not really
There will never be another boy after Eddie Munson.
So he tries to help, as best he can. It’s easier with Eddie there, not quite dozing against his shoulder -- the kid’s emergencies always seem to come so late at night these days. “When I was ten, there was a boy whose name kept changing who decided prince charming should get to kiss his faithful knight. And when I was sixteen, your sister-”
Mike’s goodwill diminishes quickly as his sister gets introduced to the conversation.
“Stevie,” Eddie says. It’s not an admonishment for bringing up Nancy. It’s awestruck and watery. “You remember that?”
“Of course I remember the first boy I ever loved," that word catches up with him a second later. Remember.
Cause there's Eddie with his riot of brown curls and his Bambi eyes. Eddie, who has explained why soft feminine words chafe against his skin leaving him itchy and anxious. Eddie, who has an Uncle in Hawkins. Eddie who moved to town the summer before he entered high school with a buzzed head and his mother's last name. Eddie who finally settled into an E he liked best.
"Wheeler, here's a tip from me to you," Eddie says, his advice is always better received than Steve's anyway, "if you have to ask you probably already know."
"Straight people don't really spend much time wondering if they aren't really straight," Steve agrees.
They don't rush Mike out the door, a crisis is a crisis and even in the wake of new discoveries Mike deserves to be heard out. Deserves a chance to cry and rage and feel those emotions someplace safe from his Reaganite father -- just as much as Will deserves to have someone who knows what they want come to him, deserves better than experimentation.
They cross the bridge from late into early by the time Mike sets off. The sun is creeping up over the horizon and Mike looks solid, certain; the dawn hints at the man he is growing up to be. Though every instinct of Steve's begs him to drive the kid home, Eddie's soft hand lingering at his hip holds him fast. They wave instead, encouraging Mike to go home and to bed before he does anything; knowing his front bike tire is already pointed toward the Byers-Hopper place.
"The first boy you ever loved, huh, Stevie?" Eddie teases before the door has even managed to click shut.
"And the last, I'm hoping, if I play my cards right."
"You were always pretty good at that. You were the only person that summer who called me by my name, except Wayne."
"It was your name." He knows that's too simple. Knows how hard Eddie has had it, continues to have it. But that summer it had been that simple, Eddie trying on names like shirts each one fitting until they didn't. "For what it's worth, I like Eddie a lot more than Excalibur."
"Oh fuck off, I was going through a fantasy knight phase. Which I know you remember."
"Right a phase, and how much longer is this fantasy 'phase' going to last?"
They're the kind of tired that makes you feel drunk, when Eddie tackles Steve and sends them both to the floor and to giggles. Eddie might not have been his bi awakening, but Steve is pretty fine with him being his everything else.
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pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)
request: a reader that keeps messing around w him and at some point they mention they like him but then hoshina thinks theyre just playing... ..but they r not and he doesnt quite get it at first because hes so used to them joking around and then he ends up overthinking the whole thing until reader actually goes up to him to kiss him (or hug him very tight!!!!!!!! or both maybe!!!!!!)
maybe he liked them too but that thought didnt sit right with him because he doesnt believe hes worthy of something like that
notes: mentions the reader's face "flushing", reader is rather lively/outgoing, reader is not a fan of horror and is more a fan of romance, reader is a hoshina stan, one part is inspired by a scene in wakaba no komorebi, omg why are there so many notes I'm so sorry TY FOR THE REQ!!
wc: 2800
A new day, a new chance for you to shoot your shot at none other than your vice-captain of the third division.
You were always messing with him. This ranged from embarrassing pranks a grade school boy would menace his crush with, all the way to borderline hitting on him. There wasn’t a single day you’d forget to remind him he was stunning, and you’d always be bragging about him to the officers in the first division, regardless of the fact that you had absolutely nothing to do with the things you were bragging about. Simply put, you were loud about Hoshina.
Yet, every day, he'd brush you off and tell you to get to work. You didn't let that mind you much though, because you could tell he wasn't actually upset. You liked him unconditionally, and as long as you weren't actually bothering him, you couldn't care less if your feelings weren't returned. Well, you did care, but that wasn't going to stop how you felt for him.
Now, you said all of that, but naturally, you were still scared to just put your feelings out there so you hadn’t actually told Hoshina you liked him. You assumed he knew, but if you said it out loud, you’d have to hear an answer. And that, you were not ready for.
However, you weren’t going to stop messing with him anytime soon. Hoping one day he’d actually fall for you and one day you’d have the courage to properly tell him how you felt.
You were in the cafeteria with the rest of the division, having your breakfast while mindlessly scrolling through your phone, when you saw a post about a new movie in theatres. Immediately your mind went to possibly inviting Hoshina and you scrolled right back up, trying to find out what it was about. Horror. You sighed and continued to scroll. Horror was absolutely not your favourite.
“Oh, is it finally out?” you heard a voice from behind you say— your favourite voice say.
“Would you like to go?” you asked, whipping your head back to see none other than Hoshina Soushirou. Just the sight of him and your heart would flutter. How you loved him. “Together? Us? Just us? You and me?”
“Oh, like we have time to go,” he said.
“Man,” you said, knowing he’d say that. The entire defence force in general had been a lot busier ever since the appearance of so many identified grade kaijus. However, it did make you wonder if that meant he would if he did have time. No, he’s just declining your invitation politely, you’d tell yourself, bringing you back to your senses.
You’ve done this since always, and you do this every time without fail. Whenever a new shop had opened, or a new movie to watch had come to theatres, you'd always shoot your shot— hoping he'd say yes one day. Yes to a date.
Although you were used to getting turned down, it still wasn’t the best feeling. Recently, you've been letting it get to you far more than you used to. Maybe after all these times, the rejection did start to have an affect on you. Maybe you were falling for him even harder recently, or maybe you were starting to hope for your feelings to be returned.
Perhaps a relaxing day at the movies was exactly what you needed. Maybe you’d ask for a day off next week— just to go watch a movie you liked.
So you did exactly that, you filed a form to Captain Ashiro, requesting a day off anytime the next week. Preferably on a Tuesday, because movie tickets were cheaper on Tuesdays.
A few days later, you were called over to her office. You assumed it was just to let you know if you could have your day off and if so, when it was. To your surprise, when you walked in, it wasn't Ashiro but rather Hoshina there, working away.
“Hoshina?” you asked, pleasantly surprised. “I didn't expect to see you today.”
“You didn't?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “But this is my office?”
“Your office? I thought it was Captain Ashiro’s?” you said.
“It used to be, but I took it over a little while back,” he said. “It's just a lot faster for me to do the paperwork.”
“Oh… I see,” you said, rather surprised you weren't already aware. There was a moment of silence.
“It was rather recently that I had officially started working here,” he said, somehow noticing that you were dejected. Oh, how did he always know exactly what to say? You were never going to get over him at this rate. “Anyways, you requested a day off next week?”
“Um… yes,” you said. Now you felt a little awkward about going to a movie alone, and you really hoped he wouldn't realize where you were going.
“On a Tuesday… are you going to see that movie after all?” he asked and he noticed you stiffened a little, so he immediately followed with, “Sorry, you don't have to answer that. You're absolutely free to take that day off.”
“I am,” you said. Half a lie, because there was no way you were watching a horror movie, let alone by yourself. But you were going to the movies. That was true. “It's been a while since I watched a movie in theatres, I realized.”
“I've never gone alone actually,” he said, imagining you were planning to go alone. “Or are you going with someone?”
“No, I'll be by myself,” you said, but instinctively you asked him out again. It was practically in your subconsciousness to do so. “Unless you'd like to tag along?”
There was a long pause before he said anything, and his unreadable expression only made the silence feel longer. You were expecting a quick rejection again, so the silence was absolutely killing you— you hadn't expected it one bit.
“Actually, I'd like to,” he said. “If that's okay with you, of course.”
You couldn't believe your ears. What did he say? You couldn't have possibly heard that right. What had he said?
On the other hand, he had no idea why he said yes. Why after turning you down all these times? Why now? He had turned down every offer of yours because he knew you were just messing around. You didn’t feel about him the way he felt about you. He knew this because you had done this since the moment you joined, and you couldn’t have liked him back then— you hadn't even know him yet.
But still, he hoped you were serious.
“You're joking,” you said.
“Were you?” he asked. This must be why he said yes. He wanted to know so badly— he was rather exhausted of playing the guessing game with you.
“Not at all,” you said. You thought he had known, but perhaps not. “I've never been. Not for a moment.”
“Then, let's go,” he said with his poker face on, but he was a little shaken. He didn't think you were at all serious, let alone that serious.
“Hoshina, is this a date?” you asked, and you could tell your cheeks were flushed. However, there wasn't much to be embarrassed about at this point, so you might as well have asked before you drove yourself insane.
“Okay…” you said, but you were spaced out. You had no idea what had prompted this all of a sudden, but this was the moment you had been waiting for, for your whole life. Yes to a date.
A date? Was it a date?
“Would you like it to be?” he asked. You had no idea what he was thinking.
“Yes,” you said. “Of course…”
“Then, let's go on a date,” he said. “On Tuesday, at 2pm. I'll pick you up from your unit and we'll go and watch a movie.”
It was yes to a date. A date with none other than the love of your life. You were going on a date with Hoshina Soushirou.
You left the office soon after, thanking him as you left, and you were lost in thought. You truly felt like the world around you had stopped, but at the same time, the time passing was a blur. You thought it’d be forever before your long awaited day, and you’d have plenty of time to calm yourself down and prepare, but it had rolled around before you knew it.
You put on what you personally thought was your best date outfit, but you had no idea if he’d like it. You really hoped he would. Now, you were sitting around, waiting for him to come pick you up. It was still 10 till 2, but he was always ahead of schedule— he hated making people wait, so he was always early. A few minutes later, you heard a few footsteps and some rustling outside your door, and you were pretty sure it was him. You waited for a knock, but it wouldn’t come.
Quickly, you opened the door and it was him, waiting by your door with his phone in his hand, opened to your messages with him.
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry, were you waiting?”
“No,” you said, immediately. “I just finished getting ready. Why didn’t you knock?”
“Well, I’m early,” he said. “Didn’t want to rush you.”
Gosh, you were on a date. With him. You had actually never seen him in anything other than what he wears at the defense force, and as much as you liked that training shirt he had on, he looked so incredibly gorgeous today. And this was just for you. He wore a black corduroy turtleneck, and a simple long coat to go over it. You were still so lost, how had you gotten to this point in the first place?
“You’re stunning today,” he said to you as he smiled a little and you swear you felt your heartrate spike. Did he even know what he was doing?
“Not to mean you aren’t usually…” he said immediately. “Sorry, I never say the right things when they count, do I?”
“No, I thought my heart was going to stop,” you said, frankly. This was the way you always were, there was no point in getting flustered all of a sudden. “You’re gorgeous everyday, but even more so today.”
“Well, I’d have to be glad our date is today then,” he said.
While the two of you walked to the theatre, it was rather quiet. Far more quiet than you usually were. Suddenly, you were so nervous, and there was nothing to say to him. So many questions filled your head but none of them felt appropriate to ask. You felt like the spell would break if you took one wrong breath. You wanted to know why he was here with you today. Why he said yes all of a sudden, why he took a precious day off to go on a date with you, and what he was thinking when he said yes. You wanted to know how he felt about you, or at least how he felt about this date.
“I’ll go get us tickets,” you said, as soon as you got to the theatre. “Please pick a snack and a drink in the meantime, I’ll get the tickets quick.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, I’m getting the tickets, and the drinks and snacks, for that matter,” he said. “Besides, we haven’t even decided on a movie yet.”
“We haven’t?” you asked. “I thought we were watching the movie that came out the other day?”
“What? Why would we?” he asked, genuinely confused. “You don’t even like horror." He pointed at another poster on the wall. "Why don’t we watch that one? Romance is more your type of thing, isn’t it?”
You thought you’d cry. If there was one thing that was worrying you about this date, it was the movie. Horror really wasn’t for you, and you weren’t sure if you could watch the movie without showing it.
“How did you know?” you asked.
“It’s obvious,” he said. “You’ve never asked me out to a horror movie, have you?”
Just how did he notice? “But didn’t you want to watch that one?” you asked.
“Please, I can watch that whenever, on my own,” he said. “I’m here with you today. I’d be a horrible date to make you watch it with me.”
“Thank you,” you said, starstruck. “At least, let me pay for it then?”
“No way,” he said. “I’m taking you out today.”
“No, I asked you out,” you said.
“Don’t care!” he said and went off to get the tickets and snacks.
You were in love with him, and you were going to tell him. You were sure he knew, but you had to tell him properly. It wasn’t even that you were hoping for him to return your feelings, you just wanted to tell him.
You thought you wouldn’t be able to focus on the movie at all, but you were, strangely enough. You were watching a cliche romance movie that couldn’t possibly be about you and Hoshina, no matter how much you tried to stretch the narrative, but you loved it. It was a sweet movie, a type that you've always loved, and you were watching it with the one you always loved. You couldn’t be happier.
So as soon as the movie was over, you went for it.
“Hoshina, I love you so much,” you said, and kissed him. On the lips.
His eyes were wide and his cheeks were faintly flushed. You weren’t expecting that, not even for a moment.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
You were confused, did he think you were playing around all this time? “Yes, of course,” you said. “I’ve loved you for forever.”
“Since… when?” he asked.
“Since the day you saved me, 3 years ago,” you said, immediately. It was like you had waited all your life to answer this. “You definitely don’t remember, but I remember like yesterday.”
He wouldn’t reply, but he was still looking at you surprised, so you continued on.
“I thought I had told you this actually. Not the part that I liked you, but the part that you saved me. I joined because of you, Hoshina,” you said. “Yes, you’re my vice-captain and the love of my life, and I’m one of your officers, but you were my hero and I was your biggest fan for all this time.”
Something in him shifted. It felt like someone had woken him up from a weird haze, and showed him how much colour there is to the world. You joined for him. Not for Mina, not for Gen, but him. To you, he was a hero. To the one he treasured most, he was irreplaceable.
“I love you too,” he said, with the softest smile you had ever seen from him. He was serious, you could tell.
“No way,” you said.
“I do,” he said, but he could tell that you were a little skeptical, or at least puzzled. “I love the way you work hard, the way you joke around, but actually care so much. I love the way you give everything your all. I love the way you always smile when you see me— it makes me feel so special. You make my day, absolutely every single day.”
It took everything in you to stop yourself from sobbing, but that made Hoshina laugh. He kissed you this time, and tears rolled down your cheeks anyway.
Wiping your cheeks with the pad of his thumb, he kissed you on the forehead.
“I absolutely adore you.”
BONUS:
Later that day, you were going to open up the one cardboard box you still hadn’t unpacked. The one filled with your posters and merch of Hoshina you had collected through these years. You were hiding them, because you thought it’d be a little too weird if you had those just hanging around, but finally, they’d see the sunlight. You would never have even imagined this day when you had those in your room, dreaming of him. If only you could tell your past self— just how thrilled you would’ve been. Well, not that you were any less thrilled now.
The next time Hoshina came to visit you in your room, he was utterly flustered, it was absolutely adorable. He couldn’t believe people actually bought the merch they sold of him, let alone put them up— and in the room of his loved one nonetheless. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, because it made him so incredibly happy.
He was thrilled that you did, in fact, love him the way he loved you.
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Well in that case we can also argue that ''trans woman" fonctions as an umbrella gender characterized by a particular adversarial and oppositional relationship to patriarchy: transmisogyny produces trans womanhood, and afab trans women are certainly this.
''Trans woman'' is also an essentialist archetype that some trans women fail to met (e.g those born with a vulva, those who can bear children).
The social reality of the afab transfem can be similar to the one of (conventional) transfemininity if the afab person is perceived (and thus treated) as a transfem..so what about those people ? Aren't they functionally transfem ? Their lived material experience isn't transfem? However similarity can also arises from interesections between racialization, misogyny, or lesbianism, intersexuality, detransition etc, creating experiences that are functionally like or adjacent to trans womanhood. Some afabs can also be ''women by dint of being less than women'' and thus are transfems, this is not exclusive to amab transfems.
the crux of your problem is this sentence: "the social reality of the afab transfem can be similar to the one of (conventional) transfemininity if the afab person is perceived (and thus treated) as a trans fem"
this is the main justification I see being used for claims of transfemininity/trans womanhood/being tma by people who were cafab: people keep mistaking me for a tranny, and that makes me a tranny! this rests on a complete misunderstanding of the systemic nature of transmisogyny. being mistaken for a trans woman, even on the regular, does not put someone in the same totalizing relationship to hegemonic gender, for the simple reason that (as I have now said multiple times) the logic of transmisogyny operates thru birth assignment. the corrective violence of transmisogyny is applied specifically because betraying coercive assignment as male puts a person in a unique degenerate position as far as cisheteropatriarchy is concerned. someone who was cafab will always have their birth assignment as a shield against this, even if there are instances of mistaken identity where it cannot be used in time.
you may retort that sometimes the violence against someone who was cafab proceeds apace despite disclosure of this assignment—perhaps in the case of the cafab butch lesbian facing street violence (thinking of nearby versions of hannah gadsby's story in nannette), or the working class transmasc on T running up against discrimination at the workplace, or, famously, the case of woman athletes, generally Black and sometimes intersex as in the case of Caster Semenya, being banned from sports competitions (I imagine this is one of the examples you're alluding to when you mention intersections). but to equivocate this to transfemininity is itself violent erasure. you would be neglecting that in every case there is a difference between the person under discussion and someone against whom transmisogyny has set its whole machinery.
there are tma masc lesbians, there are working class transfems on T, there are Black trans women for whom participation in sport is yet more complicated. the realities of navigating the legal-medical-social apparatus of gender is multiplied in impossibility for all of them, because birth assignment is the charge laid by transmisogyny to condemn the trans woman. whatever intersection your "afab transfem" sits at, there will always be this difference between them and transfemininity. this is a difference that will be leveraged against the latter, not the former.
if you think you can reskin my argument as you have in this ask and maintain its fit to reality, then you understand neither misogyny nor transmisogyny. transmisogyny against the "afab transfem" is a mistake by the lights of hegemonic gender itself, to be amended (not necessarily into something harmless, but certainly into something different) upon the revelation of birth assignment. meanwhile the misogyny experienced by trans women (including closeted trans women, including the trans girl who does not even know why she is being treated thus!) does not happen by accident, but as part of the logic of (trans)misogyny itself, because trans women fail to be men despite their birth assignment and this demands punishment. there is not an escape-by-disclosure here. in other words, misogyny deliberately makes trans women women! there is no defense the trans woman can mount on the basis of birth assignment, because that is the very event against which her existence is measured.
this is not true of your imagined afab transfem, nor is any further punishment systemically levelled against the "afab transfem" because of their failing to meet the "essentialist archetype" of trans womanhood. on the contrary, the "afab transfem" remains asymmetrically empowered to use transmisogyny against the transfeminine. yes, cafab ppl are not exempt from violent transphobia, but this is not a violence predicated on the same gender-betrayal the transfeminine person embodies. the political distinction between these experiences remains.
a final point: you are correct that some cafabs can be "woman by dint of being less than woman" but I never claimed that this was a unique trait of transfemininity! in fact I made it clear that this is a common condition for many women (ableism, fatphobia, classism, etc. can all degender a woman). what is unique is the role the logic of transmisogyny plays in defining transfemininity, and the specific manner in which it underclasses the transfeminine subject—makes her the kind of person for whom only a certain, highly peripheralized form of existence is permissible.
if you are interested in describing the way the world is (hopefully with intent to change it) then this is not the way to go about that. any careful analysis of the power relations that cisheteropatriarchy uses to facilitate gender-classing in service of the division of labour will make this clear. you can argue whatever you want! you can also be wrong.
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