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#coming out fic
idontplaytrack · 2 days
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I’d Rather Be Me(and be with you)
Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader
Warnings: fluff, some angst. coarse language, implied homophobia
“Sometimes what’s meant to break you makes you brave.”
It's funny how one line a song can lead me to think of this whole scenario- but enjoy this very short drabble :)
You were in Janis' garage, sitting before her, feeling like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. The girl looked at you with a concerned gaze and you swallowed your spit harshly. "y/n, what's going on? Why are you being weird..."
"You know the um, the guy at school that called me a dy—"
"Yeah, why? What'd he do again? I swear I'm going to kill that—"
"No, no. He didn't do anything...else." Your voice trails of at the end.
"Then what's going on, y/n. You're kind of scaring me here to be honest."
"He wasn't wrong?"
"What?" Janis nearly scoffs, "How can he not be — ohhh." She was hit with the realisation of what you were trying to tell her. Janis immediately hugs you, "Oh, I'm so glad this was what you had to tell me. I was so scared that asshole hit you or something."
"He didn't." You assured tearfully, "I know it's not a big deal or anything but I just wanted you to be the first to know because you're my best friend. I trust you with my life. And I love you."
"It is a big deal if you say it is. It's important to you." She breaks away from the hug.
"Janis...I love you. I've found myself falling for you and I didn't realise it until I found myself being so angry whenever I saw Regina flirt with you."
Janis quite literally froze. She froze. You panicked, regretting saying all of that so soon. "God, say something, please." You sniffled.
"You do?" Was all she could manage, a smile was forming on her face as she licked her lips nervously.
"Fuck." You muttered feeling the tears fall from your eyes, you looked up and swiped them away, chuckling when you looked back at her, "Yeah, I do. I really like you, Janis. Jesus, why am I crying?"
"Good, I don't have to rack my brain to think of how to make the first move now." Janis gives you a cheeky smile as she inched closer to your face. You looked into her eyes, feeling your heart flutter when you feel her hand slide up your cheek. Then, her face got closer, and closer. Her lips presses onto yours gently, and you just melted, letting nature take its course though in disbelief that this was happening.
Her hands roamed your back when you suddenly felt her weight on you, smelling her shampoo when she shifted about just ever so slightly. Your breathing hitches, she pulls away, brushing the hair out of your face right as your eyes opened. She chuckles, "Hi." You were a little out of breath, more so now that she was laying on you- but you didn’t mind it. "Hey."
"You are so cute." Janis grins, laying her head on your chest.
You laughed lightly, combing your hand through her hair, "Oh, yeah? Look at you." Your other hand rested on her back.
She says, picking at the frayed hem of your shirt, "I love you."
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eddiebabygirldiaz · 1 year
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there's always been a rainbow hangin' over your head
buck/eddie | coming out fic | 8.7K | Read on AO3
For @swiftiediaz
It’s just Buck. Buck, his best friend. Buck, his partner. Buck, his coparent. Buck, who is a goofball and a dork and endlessly supportive and intelligent and bright. Eddie knows, he absolutely knows without any doubt, that what Eddie is going to tell him won’t change anything. It’s not going to make things weird or make Buck hate him. If anything, Buck will probably be proud and excited and shower Eddie with the kind of praise and support that only he is capable of, the kind that doesn’t rankle and come across as placating, but is genuine and never fails to make Eddie feel warm and accepted and happy.
Eddie is going to come out to Buck.
The words I’m gay are going to cross his lips, enter the scant space between them, and fill the air with truth and possibility and freedom.
Once he can actually manage to say them that is.
OR
Eddie comes out to Buck, receives a quirky mug, and gets together with the love of his life. In that order.
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evren-sadwrn · 18 days
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𝒔𝒆𝒊 𝒎𝒊𝒐 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 ( 𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒊 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 )
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paura di uscire, anche se non accade | trans mtf!gianna d’antonio
⟢ a/n: la mia prima volta a scrivere in italiano scusate se ci sono errore :[
version on ao3 for quick translation | wc: 1090 | divider by @/benkeibear
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Il buio gelido della mezzanotte che albeggia sulla casa della Famiglia D'Antonio, l'odore della polvere depositata su ciottoli e marmi, la puzza di un qualcosa di dolce, l'odore del mare che circonda l'Italia. Un mare freddo di notte. C'è un sentimento, quello disgustosamente opprimente dell'empatia. Non essere spietati per qualcuno, nientemeno che per Gianni stesso. Gianni D’Antonio. Il figlio d’oro. Il favorito della famiglia.
Santino è avido, è sempre stato un uomo avido, avido. Tutto quello che voleva, e anche di più, lo pretende da tutti gli altri. Lui è così.
Vuole tutto e ancora di più. Lui, è avido. Ma mantiene una facciata di elequonza.
"Gia", chiama Santino bussando alla stanza del fratello. La risposta? Silenzio. Santino bussa ancora, prima di decidere di aprire la porta a se stesso. “Gianni?” La stanza è buia, fredda. Molto freddo. L'odore del profumo—
Aspetta.
Profumo? Santino si guarda intorno nella stanza del fratello. Profuma di ciliegie e di odori dolci e femminili. Qualcosa che Santino si aspetterebbe dalle sue ragazze— e non dalla stanza di Gianni. Oro e ornamenti finemente lavorati sono sparsi ordinatamente per la stanza. Alle pareti sono appesi quadri, la collezione d'arte privata di Gia.
Santino invidia Gianni, da cose semplici a una comprensione molto più complessa. Il suo aspetto, la sua sicurezza, il suo carisma, il modo in cui si comporta; Santino vuole sentire che, la falcata sicura di Gia.
Un’altra cosa: è differente. Più morbida. Le coperte che drappeggiano il letto sono morbide, foderate di pizzo insieme ai cuscini. Fiori in vaso: sul comodino, nell'angolo, accanto all'armadio.
Ora che è qui, forse può rubare l'auto di Gianni per un'ora o due. Santino apre uno dei cassetti di Gia sulla scrivania per le chiavi dell'auto. Lo trova quasi subito, ma sotto c'è un piccolo quaderno. Suscita il suo interesse, così lo raccoglie rapidamente e si siede sul bordo del letto di Gia."Non gli dispiacerà se ho dato un'occhiata ai suoi pensieri,” Santino pensa che mentre sfoglia le pagine. Le parole non lo interessano, poiché si tratta soprattutto di come Gia racconta la sua giornata e le cose che ha fatto. A Santino non importa nulla della sua vita.
Ma c'è qualcosa che cattura lo sguardo di Santino.
‘Non mi piace essere un uomo. Vorrei essere una donna. Prima a Roma ho comprato degli oggetti che mi aiutano a sentirmi meglio.’
“Santino!” Santino ha appena il tempo di accorgersi che Gianni è tornato nella sua stanza. Rapidamente, Gia strappa il taccuino a Santino. “Cosa hai letto?”
“Niente!” Santino promette, mentre prende le chiavi della macchina e le infila in tasca. “Posso avere la tua auto?”
“Non dirlo è papà, per favore, Santino.” Gia sa che Santino sa. “Qualunque cosa leggiate qui, non diteglielo.”
Santino è silenzio, la sua lingua diventa secca. Gia espira pesantemente.
“Perché?” Santino chiede. Santino ridacchia a mezza voce. “E’ uno scherzo, vero?” Gia è silenzio stavolta. “No..?” La voce di Santino si disperde mentre guarda Gianni, osservando l'espressione del volto del fratello.
“No, Santino.” Gianni dice. “No. Vorrei che fosse uno scherzo. Vorrei. Così posso ridere con mia madre quando chiedo di andare in altri posti. Ma non. Fa male desidare qualcosa che non si avvererà.”
Santino guarda Gianni con attenzione, in attesa di qualcosa. Non si sa bene cosa stia aspettando, ma tra i due fratelli c'è silenzio. Sorella? Forse.
Schiocca la lingua prima di passare silenziosamente davanti a Gianni per andarsene. Santino non aveva intenzione di fare nulla. Ma ora lo fa. Gli costerà molto, ma non gliene importerà nulla.
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Sono passate quattro o cinque ore da quando Santino è tornato alla villa e ora è di nuovo qui!
“Quello stronzo ha preso la mia macchina.” Gia sussurrò sottovoce mentre vede Santino scendere dalla sua auto. “Cazzo,”
Quel coglione sta tornando a casa dal garage con le borse in mano. Probabilmente un regalo per la sua nuova ragazza. Esibizioniste.
Gia ha un sapore amaro in bocca mentre guarda Santino che torna verso la porta d'ingresso della villa. Il palmo della mano sotto il mento, guardando con i suoi occhi verdi. Gia sospira, la mano gli accarezza la testa mentre lui sbuffa per lo stress. È in difficoltà. Il suo cuore batte forte e i suoi pensieri corrono più veloci dei cavalli in fuga. E se Santino lo avesse detto al padre? E se lo avesse detto a tutti? No, no, no. Cazzo. Non avrebbe dovuto scriverlo, non avrebbe dovuto—
“Gianni!” La voce di Santino è forte dall'altra parte della porta bianca. Bussa, con forza.
“Vattene.” Gia grida dall’altra parte. “Vattene, Santi, Vattene.”
“Le chiavi…?” Santino dice di entrare. Si lascia convincere e Gia ci casca. “Le chiavi dell'auto, le ho prese io. Se non apri questa porta, la tua macchina è mia!”
“Questo fastidioso parassita…” Gia borbotta sottovoce. “Mio dio,” Gia apre la porta, ma Santino entra a forza con un sorriso fastidioso. “sei irritante, Santino.”
“Sì, lo so, cara sorella.” Gia deve ammettere che quelle parole di essere chiamata sorella le hanno dato un po' di felicità.
Santino ha in mano delle borse. Gia è un po' preoccupata per l'interno delle borse. "Santino, che cazzo hai in quelle borse?" Gia chiede, indicandole.
"Sei molto eccitata, Gia." Un'osservazione sarcastica e sciocca di Santino, che si siede sul letto di Gia come se fosse suo. Santino apre la borsa che ha, prima di richiuderla e lanciarla a Gia perché la prenda. “Ho graffiato la tua auto. Non voglio pagare i danni.”
“Certo che hai danneggiato la mia macchina, insolente, disordinato, irritante stronzetto....” Quando gli occhi di Gia guardano la borsa, le sue parole svaniscono mentre elabora ciò che sta vedendo e che suo fratello le ha appena comprato (sacrificando la nuova verniciatura della sua auto). “Cosa?”
L'incredulità colpisce Gia.
“Cos’è questo, Santi?” Gia chiede a Santino che sta scegliendo delle scarpe di Gia che molto probabilmente vuole portare con sé.
“Ha?”
“La borsa, Santino.”
“Sì, è?”
“Gli abiti di seta sono per le donne.”
Gia dice, mentre Santino raccoglie le scarpe— "Non toccarle.” Lei dice severamente.
“Non ti ho ancora comprato un vestito o dei tacchi. Dato che potresti dover iniziare dal primo livello. Bisogna entrarci lentamente.” Santino fa spallucce.
"Non so cosa dire" Dice Gia mentre si siede e guarda l'accappatoio.
“Grazie mille?”
“Benvenuti,” Gia dice che è un modo per colpire Santino.
“Dovrebbe essere il contrario, Gia.” Santino dice.
“Hmmm….. no.” Dice Gianna prima di lanciare un paio di scarpe a Santino. "Ora vattene"
“Hey!” Santino osserva le scarpe. “Puttana.” Sussurra prima di andarsene, posando le chiavi sul letto di Gia.
( wickblr pride anon if you see this i love you )
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ohwhataniight · 1 month
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The Good that won't Come Out - a trans!Sherlock fic - Part 1
So I started this WIP and have absolutely no patience about sharing it after it is completed. Please forgive my English, it is not my first language. For @gaylilsherlock who suggested the wound dressing trope. To be continued.
___________________________
"Girls, behave. Please."
I didn't think much of the way I'd just referred to a sulking Sherlock and an exasperated Lestrade, both of whom were leaning dangerously over the table in the Scotland Yard office, looking ready to punch each other in the face any minute now. Sherlock was being his usual self, showing off deductions that were only possible for me to follow, given that I live with him and, throughout the past couple of years, have become able to decode his tumultuous trains of thought. I assumed that the patience of my friend and colleague had run out and that he needed some quiet time in order to think this baffling case through, given that he raised the lapels of his coat and announced that he was heading home.
Anyway, I have a date tonight, so I don't really mind letting the case of the poisoned fashion designer go. I am more than fine with the turn of events, actually. I shoot Greg an apologetic look when Sherlock isn't looking and start buttoning my own jacket. I turn to Sherlock. “I won't be back till late. Go home, get some Thai, don't do anything reckless without me.”
He doesn't grace me with an answer to that, of course. “Give Vicky my warmest regards,” he says sarcastically instead, without really meeting my gaze. I decide to ignore his moods – I know better than provoking him when he's way too deep in a case he can't solve yet. I watch him turn around and leave the room with the tail of his impossibly long coat swishing dramatically behind him. I sigh, and follow suit to head to my date, for which I am already late.
*
It would have been fine if it only happened once, but apparently this is how John speaks, and for some reason it took my by surprise. Again. I should have seen this coming - this is how he really sees me, isn’t it? At least subconsciously - even subconsciously is bad enough. Why doesn’t he ever observe? I blame myself for letting my guard down. Of course, Captain John Watson, the epitome of traditional British masculinity and unchecked heterosexism would resort to such terms of endearment. And now here I am, recalling the words of my dearest brother: “You have let yourself be conquered by sentiment once again, Sherlock. You are entrusting a well-intentioned but vastly ignorant man with secrets you have been hiding ever so industriously throughout your life. I am observing you in sheer terror as you succumb to your miscalculations. How are you planning to proceed after John Watson discovers that you have so... diligently concealed the truth from him, after he reacts?”
Concealed. Truth. I snort. John knows the truth. He knows what he needs to know, he knows as much as he can stomach.
“He’ll have to know, at some point, being your doctor and all.”
“Oh shut up,” I hiss at mind palace-Mycroft, brushing away his rigid figure from my head with a wave of my hand. “John cannot know. He will never see me the same way again if he finds out.”
The night is chilly, my breath materializes before me in the form of smoke: dense, and woefully lacking of tar. I walk into the first corner shop and buy a pack, only to notice that my hands are shaking as I try to light the first cigarette, standing on the side of the pavement, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Pathetic. Look at you. Mycroft is right.
No. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep guessing, and hiding, and pretending it’s all fine.
He accepts and admires the man he thinks you are. Just one misstep and you blow up an entire life you’ve built for yourself, a life you’ve fought so hard for. John learns, and everything goes
fucking
boom.
I have been letting someone in so dangerously close to the core of my being, and yet I still have to live life hanging from the threads of how he sees me, how he reads me, like a pitifully open book yet still stumbling between the lines, faltering when I become too visible, immuring me behind performances and words.
John Watson is failing you.
And how could he not?
(freak)
I shake my head, exasperated. I take in a deep drag of smoke and watch it crystallize in slow motion. The lights of the city that normally surround me with clarity now become blurry and melt around me, pool on my feet like fireflies in a swamp. Smoking doesn’t help. Nothing is helping. My ribs are constricting around what feels like a hole in my chest, pulling me down with the familiar weight that used to press around me like Symplegades before.
What if John Watson had met me before? Maybe then he could have returned my feelings. Maybe he could have loved me if I weren’t who I am.
After all, John Watson is not, will never be gay. And I will never be what he likes.
These thoughts make breathing a strenuous activity. I wish I could ever only inhale nicotine. Not oxygen, especially when it becomes so sparse, not his hot, sweet breath that confiscates mine every time he turns his head as he’s leaning over me to stare at the computer screen, not the odd whiff of salty sweat, not his light musk of earth that is damp that is sturdy -
And then, suddenly, bliss: a distraction. A man in a suede jacket who is up to no good, judging from the long fingernail on his left pinky and the obviously borrowed briefcase that contains information of life and death on his ex wife. I don’t need to intervene, I’m not Clark freaking Kent (see, John? I have some mundane references) but I need something to keep my mind and body occupied other than these dreaded musings on truth and identity and John Watson’s scent, ever present in my nostrils. So I follow him. And he notices. And he quickens his step. And I chase him. In an alley. Good, this is good. Keep that adrenaline pumping. He climbs over some railings. I follow suit. My heart is racing with the rapture of something remotely interesting, finally. My physical deftness has never betrayed me before, until it does. I feel the sharp stab of metal on my ribcage as the railing scratches my side, ripping my shirt underneath my coat, and I feel the warmth of blood spiling from a long scratch on my skin that climbs up to my chest like a vine of poison ivy.
(well, this is unfortunate)
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beyondxmeasure · 10 months
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Paint a Rainbow Inside My Heart
22K | T+ | 5+1 Things | Queer Coding | Sexual Identity | Coming Out
A story about hiding in plain sight and the journey to revealing your truth, told in six acts. Or, the five times Harry queer coded with actions, behaviors or clothing and the one time he was too proud to hide it anymore.
Written for the @1dpridefest
Subscribe here for updates.
🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 Happy Pride! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️
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naturewivesmybeloved · 5 months
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Thinking of writing a fic where Gem is anxious to come out on the hermitcraft server but then finds out it’s a little queerer then she thought.
(Would include: bi Gem obviously, Bi and she/they Cleo, they/them iskall, all pronouns for Joe and Prehaps a Mumbo/Grian/Scar Polycule)
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Chapter 5 is up!!! aka, Coming Out to Eddie Part 2!!!!
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cabinofimagines · 1 year
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Lighter (Coming out as Non-Binary)
Midway of writing this fic I realized I was projecting but also I realized to my friends I have never had much of a hard time coming out. One day I just told them to use my name to refer to me esp. when I was there and they did, and this was months before I got the guts to pick a label. Anyways....
Pairing: Alex Fierro x reader (platonic), Sam, Magnus, Blitzen and Hearthstone are there too! Request: i heard your requests were open ? could you do a coming out as non binary to alex fierro(and other characters if you’d like) no pressure though !! hcs / fanfic ? Words: ~850 Warnings: Discussions of coming out and mostly fluff. Writing the fic made me weirdly emotional but again I think I am projecting-
-Asnyox
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You wondered why there was no guide to any of this and you were nervous. You wondered if maybe it would be better to try to write it down instead of tell people out loud but that seemed weird. It did not help that you felt like you were lying, or unsure for now- what if it will pass, what if next week you change your mind, what if – what if?
What if you never try and live a lie.
After careful consideration you decided that perhaps you should start with one of the few people you know who could openly be himself proud and loud, every day.
“You wanted to talk?” Alex raised his eyebrow as you nervously sat across from him. You wanted advice- and you figured that Alex would be the best source to ask advice on this topic. However, you only realized after you asked him for help that you would first need to come out to him. It’s not that you thought he would not accept you, but it being the first time you told him- you told anyone that you were non-binary made you nervous. You rubbed your hands together unconsciously, and Alex noticed your behaviour. Last time he checked you were never nervous around him- so he wondered what was going on. He was about to ask when you took a deep breath.
“I need your advice on coming out- ” you had a painful smile on your face, “I- I think I am non-binary and I want to tell our friends but I don’t know how,”
Alex schooled his expression of surprise and smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder.
“Thanks for telling me.” He smiled and your nervousness subdued a little, “now first take a deep breath and we can come up with a game plan,” Alex guided you to a calmer state of mind. You still felt a little jittery, but he managed to assure you little by little that of your own confidence.
“The worst part,” Alex had told you, “Is the learning to say it to people. But you can pick – either do it in a get together, or whenever you see someone.” “But aren’t you nervous?” You sighed, “I felt like vomiting just now.” “At first it was horrible- I used to suck it up, especially when I was not sure about the people around me. But little by little I learned to get over that. Why would I care about the opinion of those that would not accept me?” Alex laughed, “Of course, it helps that in the meantime I found a group of people that accepted me and that makes it a lot easier.” Alex sided eyed you, before he offered you a smile, “It won’t ever be the easiest to come out, you never know how people will react, but with the right people behind you and a little self-worth you can get far. Remember, you do this for yourself and because you are worthy to be respected and known for who you are. You do not own anyone your coming out except for yourself, (Y/n).”
───────────
One afternoon you were just sitting on the balcony of the Chase place with some of your friends. Sam, Magnus, Blitzen and Hearthstone were all in their separate conversations. You looked around and figured that right now was just as well as any other time. You felt slightly nervous, but Alex was sitting next to you, trying to subtly reassure you that you could do it.
“Do you want to?” She asked and you nodded, “Should I get everyone’s attention, or will you?” “I don’t know, Alex.” You took a deep breath, “Could you…?” “With pleasure,” Alex smiled, “Hey listen up you fucks!”
Everyone turned to look at Alex, and after Blitzen point Hearthstone int her direction all eyes were on the girl sitting next to you, and in turn this meant that all eyes were on you. The silence was deafening, but as Alex nudged you, you knew there was no backing down anymore. No more lying to yourself.
“Pronoun update!” You did jazz hands, after which you resumed signing your words as you spoke, “I think I’m nonbinary so if you could refer to me with they slash them?” you just announced and your friends nodded. “Any name changes or?” Magnus asked and you shook your head. “Not yet, am thinking about it.” You shrugged. “Cool. Tell us when there are more updates,” Magnus said and as you nodded everyone slowly returned to their conversations. You took a deep breath, returning the thumbs up Blitzen was sending you from where he was standing, before he started conversing with Hearthstone again.
“And? How do you feel?” Alex asked. “Somehow not really different,” you rubbed your hand over your heart, “but lighter. I definitely feel lighter.” “Good,” Alex elbowed you rather roughly, “I’m proud of you, (Y/n).”
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dumbfuck-mojave · 2 years
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Coming Out to Steve and Eddie as Bisexual (Separate Scenarios)
Franchise: Stranger Things 
Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader (Can be read as platonic or romantic!! Whatever suits you most <3)
Also Featured: Mentions of Wayne, Robin, unnamed Family Video Customer
Warnings: Food, a really brief mention of the pencil scene from Evil Dead (injury, blood). Eddie and Steve both use petnames but it can still be platonic. 
A/N: Well I didn’t plan on the over a month writing hiatus but I’m back, writing for more Midwestern characters. I wanted to have an undeniable Midwestern thing in this one and that evolved into Eddie being a diehard Puppy Chow fan, and me wanting to write a full fic where he and his partner make it for Hellfire lol. So if you like Stranger Things and my writing style, give me a follow and look forward to that. I also made Eddie specifically unlabeled queer, I was originally gonna make it ambiguous but this is my fic so >:(. And I think it’s funny if he’s a little bitch when it comes to horror movies so I also threw that in lol. I hope you enjoy!! I might do this for Jonathan in the future as well. 
This was inspired by @kaylawritesfics headcanons on coming out to the older ST characters! Make sure to give that post a like/reblog and give her a follow, she was one of the first ST writers I read on my private account and her work is amazing!!
Word Count: 
Steve- 1,368
Eddie- 1,177
@dollyghostface @horrorstolemyheart @kaylawritesfics and @loveronlineee​ who I also read a lot and recall seeing they were okay with being tagged in stuff :))
Support a disabled creator this disability pride month :D
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-Steve Harrington-
It was almost closing time when a young woman slipped through the door of Family Video, carrying a stack of tapes the length of her torso. You had your back partially turned to the register and the door, sorting through the new inventory, so Steve had hopped up from the rolling chair he was sitting in to assist her. It had been relatively quiet for the past few hours, and that didn’t change much; The woman had a quiet voice, the sound barely overshadowing the methodic tapping of computer keys as Steve typed and the pirouetting seat of the chair, still recovering from his sudden upheaval. You figured, despite the amount of tapes she had brought in, it would be a relatively quick final task of the day. You were wrong. 
“I’m honestly appalled.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Steve.” 
“No, Y/N, because look at this!” He gestures aggressively to the partially broken down stack in front of him, then picks one up with flamboyance, “There’s like 20 tapes here! Are we even allowed to rent out that many to one person!?”
“Actually, I don’t think so-”
“AND SHE DIDN’T REWIND ANY OF THEM! Like Jeez, if you’re gonna be a lousy customer at least be only half lousy! Thank God I didn’t just shove them out like I wanted because if I didn’t discover this I would be in so much shit-”
“Aw, you poor baby. Actually having to do your job.” You fake pouted at him.
“Yeah, well, at least I’m doing something productive.” He shot back, even though it didn’t have much fire behind it. It’s rare that he’s genuinely mad at you (Or anyone else, for that matter). 
You looked down at your swinging feet coming in to view over your knees every few seconds or so, having hopped onto the counter after finishing sorting the new tapes into “easy to put out genre piles” for tomorrow. There’s been a bit of delay with your stock recently, and you had gotten triple the amount you usually did in one delivery today so you thought the normal system could change a little bit because of it. Sort it all out today, put it all out when you come in for the opening shift tomorrow. Simple.
“I’ve been productive all day, Steve! I didn’t see your ass wanting to sort through all this bullshit.”
Steve clicks his tongue, “Language.”
“Oh, shut up.”
You both started chuckling at that. You glance over at his stack of tapes, still messy but forming some sense of order as he places the rewound ones back in their own pile. He sighs as he pulls another one out of its cover, changing it out for the one that has just finished rewinding with a pop. 
Your caution blanks on you for a moment, just one moment. But it allows your words to overtake you. 
“Hey, can I tell you something?” 
Oh shit.
As Steve looks at you curiously, you feel like you’re going to pass out, or throw up, or both. You debated on getting off the counter, but decided to stay put so as to not make a fool of yourself floundering to find a new seat. 
It’s not like you didn’t want to tell Steve, you loved him and you knew he would be accepting, but even knowing that information didn’t help the anxiety that blanketed the struggle of trying to build yourself up to this point over the last few months. This wasn’t the way you wanted to do it, you wanted it to happen when you were completely comfortable and secure, maybe during a late night talk or near the end of a long phone call. The still moment in the car as you finally arrive home after a long trip. Anything but this, right now. 
“Yeah, of course? Are you okay?”
“It’s something important.” Once again, not what you wanted to say.
“Alright, but are you okay? You’re looking a little sick there, peaches.” 
You feel a little more life rush back into you as you scoff.
“Again with the ‘peaches’?”
“What, I thought you liked it!”
“When you said it the first time I laughed, that’s not confirmation I like it.”
Steve saunters towards you, “Welllll, you’re laughing now and you don’t look 2 seconds away from dying anymore, so I consider it a win.” 
A small chuckle bubbles up in your throat, “Scoffing is not laughing, Harrington. Now this, what I’m doing right now? Is laughing.” 
“A win!”
“A win because of how stupid you are!”
“Still a win!” Steve had made it over to you by now, leaning back against the counter as he looks up at you. He nudges your knee with his elbow, “So, what do you want to talk about?” 
Nervousness invades you again, and Steve notices as your lips slightly turn down. 
“Hey, it’s okay! I promise, don’t back out on me now. I’m sure you’ll feel better after saying it.” 
He says it with a smile, and you can’t help but silently agree with him. Your gaze diverts to the door and Steve follows it, turning his head.
“Do you want me to lock the door? That way no one will come in, it’ll be just us.”
You nod. Steve moves quickly throughout the store, first locking the door then flipping off some switches so all the outside lights were off and only a few remained on inside. Legs flew in your peripheral as he launched over the counter, nearly falling as he situated himself up beside you. 
“If you would have fallen and broken your face, I would’ve laughed as I drove you to the hospital.” 
“Shhhh,” Steve hushes as he puts his arm around your shoulders, “We’re focusing on you now.”
“Yeah… focusing on me.”
Steve’s brows furrow, “I know what I said a few minutes ago but you really don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
You took a deep breath in, “No, I want to.” 
You pause again, leaning your head on Steve's shoulder as his thumb starts to rub gentle circles into your cloth covered one. 
Finally, you speak.
“I’m bisexual.” You close your eyes and a beat passes. But you have to hand it to Steve, there’s barely any time for you to start doubting before he replies. 
“That…. That means you’re into both boys and girls, right? Just want to make sure before I say anything stupidly incorrect.”
You smile, nuzzling more into his shoulder as his grip around you tightens, “That and the in-between, but yes.” 
“Alright, cool.” You can feel his jaw move against the side of your head as he lays his own on top of yours, “Thank you for trusting me. I’m sorry I don’t have much else to say.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything.” You nudge your head away from his, looking at his face, “I feel a lot better now.”
He softly smiles at you, “I’m glad. You know I wouldn’t care no matter what, right?”
Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah, but it’s still scary.” 
“Yeah, yeah, for sure. Your ‘secret’ is safe with me.” He sloppily salutes and you cackle, hoping off the counter.
“Alright sailor boy, how about we head out of this joint. The seas await us.” 
“That’s former sailor boy to you. And a fellow employee pressuring me into leaving before I’ve finished all my work? I might just report you for that.” 
“Whatever, I can just get Robin to do the rest tomorrow!” You yell over your shoulder, heading into the back to pick up your and Steve’s stuff as he shuts off the rest of the lights. There’s still dim natural light out, so you see his featureless form waiting for you by the door. He swings it open when you get close enough. 
“I’m really happy I told you, I’ve been freaking out about it for so long.” You look over at him as you both walk towards his car.
“I’m glad you told me too, now I can judge your taste in both guys and girls,” He unlocks the car and finger guns at you over the hood, “And everything in between.” 
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-Eddie Munson-
“Home sweet home!” Eddie yelled out as he kicked his leg up to hold the door open, hands full as he gestures you inside with his head.
“Your home, not my home.” You reply as you set your own bags down on the small collapsible table in the kitchen area. You weren’t even sure who had pulled it out, or why, Wayne usually eats a small supper at work while Eddie takes whatever he can scrounge up into his room. Even when there were people over, like you or some neighbor Wayne was friendly with, the meal was eaten while watching TV in the living area, surrounded by hats and mugs basked in the dim overhead light. It was nice. Homey, you thought. 
“It could be our home. What do you say, roommates?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed, pulling the last of the things out of your bags and reaching over to unpack Eddie’s. 
“I’m sure your uncle would absolutely adore having another person cramped up in here.” 
“Hey, it’s not cramped!”
“With three people and three people’s amount of stuff, it definitely will be.” 
When Eddie doesn't respond immediately, you glance up and are met with a confused expression on his face while he looks down at his hands, flexing them slightly. 
“Hey, bud, you doing okay?” 
“I’m trying to remember if I forgot anything.” He mumbles quietly, his fingers starting to move as he counted to himself. 
“We picked up the movie yesterday, we walked in just as Steve dropped a tape in front of that group of girls.”
He smacked his hand down on the table, rings clacking together as he pointed the other one at you, “That’s it! I swear, I remembered we did that all day, but it just… flew off right then.”
“It’s okay, I was kind of expecting it.”
Eddie clutches his chest, eyes widening as he gasps dramatically, “Sweetheart, light of my life, how could you say such things!”
You smirk but roll your eyes, taking a slight step back as he tries to throw his arms around you, just to up the dramatics a bit. 
“Light of my life? Seems a bit too Grecian for you, Eds.” 
“Oh, I have more where that came from. I can be one sappy motherfucker if I do so desire to be.” He shoulder shimmies, a teasing look in his brown eyes. 
“Alright, Euripides, let’s get to what we’re actually supposed to be doing tonight.” 
“What?” 
“He was a tragedian in ancient Greece, his play is where the ‘light of my life’ thing first popped up. He wrote depressing shit, I had to do a report on it, let’s move on.” 
Eddie’s body, which had been surprisingly still during your explanation, jumped back into motion at your suggestion. 
“Let’s! So, we got Bottle Caps, M&M’s, Nerds, like six different types of chips, that Puppy Chow we made yesterday after we apparently rented out the movie, let’s see what else....” 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The pencil impales the back of Linda’s ankle, gooey red blood pouring out, as Eddie hides his face into the pillow he’s been clutching and groans.
“Wow, that’s gnarly.” You chuckle as you pause the movie, turning to him. His head shoots up to look at you, a look of disbelief in his wide eyes.
“Are you kidding me? That was awful. That was torture, who would ever want to watch this shit?”
“Uh, you, Eddie. You’re the one who suggested Evil Dead.” You deadpan back.
“Well, I forgot about this scene.”
“If you would just admit you’re a pussy-”
“I AM NOT-”
“Then stop complaining and watch the damn movie, Munson!” 
“Listen, I don’t know what kind of sick fuck you are if you want to watch some lady get stabbed in the foot but I’m really starting to reconsider the people I choose to spend time with right now! I may write some mean shit for my campaigns, but at least I don’t have to visually witness it happening.” 
You sigh, flopping further into the couch, “We can stop if you’d like.” 
Eddie bites his nails in thought, “No, I just want to take a break. I need more Puppy Chow, and can you please not keep it paused at this particular moment.”
“Yes sir, anything you say sir.”
“I hate you.” Eddie mumbles halfheartedly, standing up from the couch as you rewind the movie back and stop on an innocent shot of cards. 
He returns after a brief moment, carrying the rest of the Puppy Chow in his hands. He shakes the bowl out to you in offering, but you decline. 
“I’m good. Have at it, Puppy Chow Fiend.” 
It’s almost silent for the next few minutes, the only sound being Eddie’s chewing and spring insects outside. But it isn’t awkward, more relaxing than anything. You feel like you could drift off as you close your eyes, surrounded by the warmth of blankets and Eddie next to you. You feel… safe.
“Hey, Eds, can I tell you something?” You peek one eye open, watching him quickly swallow and nod. 
“Of course, anything.”
Sighing, you scoot closer to him, turning so you can be face to face. Putting the bowl on the floor, he mirrors you and holds out his hands. You grasp them in your own, feeling the foreign texture of metal clashing with his rough skin. 
“I wanted to tell you I’m bisexual.” You give him a small smile, and he grins back at you, his eyes lighting up as he processes your words.
“That’s so sick, dude! Obviously, I won’t tell anyone else but I’m happy you found yourself and felt comfortable enough telling me. You already know I don’t care about gender or attraction, whether it’s me or anyone else, so it’ll be nice to have someone else around to talk about that stuff on a personal level with, even if I don’t really use labels.”
“Yeah, yeah I totally get that. It just feels like I can breathe now, you know?” 
“Yeah, I know.” Eddie holds out his arms for you, “Wanna hug?”
“Yes, please.” You hold him tightly, his fluffy hair tickling your face. Your hand reaches up to stroke it, “You know, I should braid this again.”
“After last time? No way.”
“It’s not my fault you tore out the ponytail like a little heathen. If you did it nicely, it wouldn’t have pulled so badly.” 
“Yeah, Yeah, whatever.” Eddie pulls away and looks over at the TV, grimacing. 
“Maybe we should have taken Steve’s suggestion instead.” You giggle, and Eddie raises an eyebrow at you.
“You want to watch Grease?”
You throw your hands up, “It’s fun!”
Eddie scoffs, “All the characters suck! And it totally breaks the realism at the end.”
“Eddie Munson, are you really trying to call out a movie where people break into song constantly on breaking realism?” 
He picks the almost empty bowl of Puppy Chow back up.
“I’m just saying, it would be a little more believable if they just drove away.” 
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eddiebabygirldiaz · 1 year
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Fuck It Friday
Tagged by @rose-buddie @mumucow @buddiearemydads @rewritetheending @comaboybuck
Thank you my loves! 💖
Here's a little something I started today (it's all April's fault) and I'll probably have it finished either tonight or tomorrow, so let me know if you wanna be tagged when it's posted!
So, he’s not entirely sure what his newfound realization means for him and Shannon. He loved her, he absolutely loved her, and he’s gay. Those are two things that can and do co-exist, which is something he’s been working on for months with Frank. Him realizing he is undoubtedly very into men does not negate what he had with Shannon.
And, look, he knows he doesn’t have to explain that all to Buck. He can simply say I’m gay and Buck will smile and tell Eddie he’s proud and probably pull him into a bear hug that Eddie will sink into with a sigh and leave it at that.
But he wants to tell Buck. He wants Buck to know all the complicated tiny details that make up Eddie Diaz. He wants to share every part of himself with Buck because he knows the other man will never judge Eddie and that he will cradle the fractured shiny and dull pieces Eddie gives to him in his strong, gentle hands like they are precious and never let them fall to the ground again.
No one has or ever will protect Eddie like Buck. Eddie has never felt so safe and secure with another person before, and yes, Eddie is well aware that it’s because he’s in love with Buck, but it’s not the whole reason. Buck is just–he’s so fucking good and beautiful and the best friend he has ever had in his life. Even if Eddie wasn’t in love with him, he would feel like this, he’s sure.
And besides, Eddie being gay isn’t about Buck.
Tagging @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @swiftiediaz @monsterrae1 @cowboy-buddie @gayedmundodiaz @eddiesbleps @thekristen999 @the-likesofus @eddiediass @prettyboybuckley @rogerzsteven @buckleysbee @honestlydarkprincess @spotsandsocks @sibylsleaves @buddierights @singlethread @usercowboy and anyone else who wants to share!
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theficlistpodcast · 11 months
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We're back!!! Just like Hopper! (Spoiler alert, lol) We're here, we're queer...we're better than ever (maybe) with the first episode of Season 5!!! We're talking coming out fanfic and it gets Emotional with a capital E. Coming out is a journey, and boy howdy, so is this whopper of an episode. We're sorry/you're welcome/didn't you miss us, lol?
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skyler10fic · 4 months
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New Year’s Revelations: Ch. 1 - No Matter How Far Away You Roam
Summary:
Over Christmas and New Year's, Carol is moving back home to the LA area after years away in Houston. But she has a secret: she's been in love with her best friend and old college roommate, Daisy, for years. But Daisy has a secret of her own. :) From friends to getting snowed in with only one bed!
Read on Ao3
“Carol Danvers is coming home for Christmas this year,” Melinda casually remarked to her husband Phil, in strategic earshot of their grown daughter, Daisy, who was supposed to be on Christmas vacation but was still working on her laptop from her parents’ living room.
Daisy’s posture straightened, but she didn’t give any response. Her parents continued wrapping presents nearby.
“Yeah,” Phil confirmed, “I heard from her aunt that she’s got a job lined up back here—in Pasadena, actually. So she’ll be near Daisy.”
They paused. Daisy hadn’t typed a single keystroke since Carol’s name was mentioned, but she was still pretending not to hear.
“That will be nice for her family,” Melinda remarked, “and for her friends to have her closer. Daisy, you should get together with her while you’re off work.”
“Remember?” Phil hinted, “We all took off work to spend time together for the holidays?”
Daisy shut her laptop and called them out on their suspiciously flawed logic. “If you want to spend time together, wouldn’t me hanging out with Carol kinda defeat the purpose?”
Melinda kept wrapping. “She could come over here, then.”
“Ugh, Moooom,” Daisy whined like a teenager, “Carol hasn’t texted me in months. If she wanted to hang out, don’t you think she would have told me herself? She probably wants to make her own life with her super-cool rocket scientisty people, not hang out with us dorks.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.” Melinda scoffed. “Her aunt Wendy said your name comes up a lot.” But the accompanying pointed expression told Daisy that’s all the information her mother was willing to reveal.
Phil glanced up to catch Daisy’s face turning pink in a tell-tale blush. Daisy’s crush on Carol Danvers was still in full force. From casual friends in high school to best friends and eventual housemates in college, Daisy had been very bad at hiding her feelings for Carol from her parents. But between Daisy’s flings with boys who could never measure up and Carol’s humility to the point of missing what was clear as day to everyone else, Carol had somehow remained oblivious. She had gone far away to grad school and worked for a big space program, while Daisy had gotten a high-pressure cybersecurity job that took her to conferences around the world. They had gone years with only texts, occasional video calls, and quick dinners when they happened to be in the same place at the same time, and recently, those had all dwindled as they grew apart.
Daisy secretly wondered if any of the girls in Carol’s social media photos were dating her. If Carol had found someone who deserved her. If Daisy would have to sit through Carol’s wedding to someone else, nothing more than an “old college buddy” at a table in the back of a reception hall, just someone she used to know. The prospect of finding out this information face to face made Daisy ill just thinking about it. But then, not knowing was tearing her up inside too.
“You know she’d love that new pub with the karaoke and pinball and the old plane memorabilia,” Phil suggested, a knowledgable collector himself. He had always liked Carol from the moment she took an interest in his rare antique spy gear and airplane curios.
He was right. And Daisy knew Carol would probably text with a vague offer to get together anyway once she was bored of her family.
“Okay, I’ll see when she’s getting back and what her schedule looks like,” Daisy relented. “She’ll probably be busy, but at least I tried.”
Phil and Melinda remained unconvinced by Daisy’s pessimism. Even if Carol didn’t return Daisy’s specific feelings, they could tell from Carol’s aunt’s phrasing that Daisy being in the city was a significant factor in Carol’s decision to accept this new job. Third-hand is a tricky business for interpreting subtext, but what was clear was that Carol missed Daisy. Best to let poor Daisy hear it for herself, though, and not let her misunderstand or get her hopes up if the time-enduring crush wasn’t mutual.
“I’m sure she’ll be excited to hear from you,” Melinda ended the conversation as she finished her last gift wrapping. She neatly stacked her gifts under the tree, and Phil followed not long after, leaving Daisy to her choice: to continue working away at problems someone else in the office should be handling while she was home for the holidays … or sign off and text Carol.
She opted for the latter but went for the safest option of a group chat with their college friends who had also stayed in the L.A. area.
Daisy: My parents just told me the news!! Carol, are you really moving back?
Daisy paced the living room as she waited. Then the texts started to come in, making her heart skip a beat at the notification and then sink as she saw it was just their friends replying with their excitement and questions. Maybe a group chat wasn’t the best choice after all.
Eventually, Carol did reply with a big yes, that she’d only just officially accepted the offer yesterday, and answers to whens and wheres and whys and hows and what she’d be doing at her new job, only a few blocks away from Daisy’s company. Then someone came up with an idea: to welcome Carol back with a New Year’s ski trip to the mountains. The meteorologists said that while no white Christmas was on the horizon, a long look at the rest of the year might see fresh snow at the mountain resorts soon after, making for ideal skiing and snowboarding conditions. Fitz used his wealthy stepdad’s connections to book a big luxury cabin at a steep discount, and suddenly the conversation was on the New Year’s reunion trip and tales of ski incidents past.
Daisy texted Carol individually: I’m glad you’re coming home.
Carol responded simply: Me too :)
Daisy told her about the aviation-themed pub and they set a night for just the two of them to catch up the soonest they could get away from family: Dec. 26.
Daisy wondered if she was the only one in the world adding an extra day to all the countdowns. Her anticipation wasn’t for Santa Claus but for a visit from someone else far more special.
—------
Christmas with the Danvers/Lawson extended family was over, and no one had left the table in anger or shouted at each other this year. Carol should be feeling relieved. As she tied back her honey-blonde ponytail, she chastised herself for not being more grateful. The job offer was a dream realized, with a salary that would help her pay off her student loans in a few years. She’d be working in a city she knew, just half an hour (with no traffic, that is) from the suburbs she’d grown up in. She already had a few prospective apartments to check out, and now her friends from college all knew she’d be coming back.
Taking a moment to think about it as she applied her mascara, the stomachache wasn’t heaviness from disappointment that the surprise had been ruined, nor was she frustrated with her aunt for telling the whole town within a few hours. This familiar feeling was the pure anxiety that heightened every time Daisy crossed her mind.
She grabbed her keys and set all her stubbornness on driving to this themed pub for a very normal and casual dinner with Daisy. Just two old friends meeting up. Something they had done a thousand times with just the two of them, hanging out and catching up on each other’s lives. Still, Carol tried to focus on the road instead of her nerves at seeing Daisy again.
Carol had fallen for Daisy slowly but with equal parts grief and longing. There was one problem: Daisy was straight. At least, as far as Carol knew. Daisy had only ever dated guys. Well, one in high school and a few dates in college. Though Daisy hadn’t ever said explicitly that she was straight, Carol would know, of all people… surely? They weren’t as close anymore, but in all their time together, Daisy had never talked about crushes on girls or gone on a date with one. So Carol figured it was safe to assume her feelings were eternally unrequited, though Daisy had always been a vocal, proud, exceptional ally. Again, Carol should be grateful.
Her worst fear was accidentally crossing the line from best friends to flirting and pushing Daisy away. Her nightmares consisted of Daisy’s repulsed and pitying face if she found out the truth about the feelings Carol had been hiding all these years. Despite all of life’s griefs and heartaches, Daisy had been so open and trusting, so physically affectionate and quick to smile. Daisy made her feel like the only person in the room, the most special girl in the world. Carol had spent years trying to reciprocate without getting too attached or letting her heart run away with her. It wasn’t fair to Daisy, or to herself, to ruin that with her terrible secret.
Some days, Carol hated that she couldn’t just turn off her feelings by distance or time. So she drifted away. It would have been easy to blame on Daisy’s all-consuming career or Carol’s all-consuming graduate studies and work, but the cold, hard truth was that having to mourn what could never be while playing the supportive, chill, unattached best friend was harder and harder to do as their peers and friends got married, bought houses together, and started families. Carol knew one day it could be Daisy falling for Mr. Right, getting engaged, bragging about her hunky husband, celebrating a pregnancy announcement… And Carol would have to be thrilled. Which was easier to pretend to do through text. Though no Prince Charming had shown up on Daisy’s social media posts, it was only a matter of time before she became a walking Hallmark Christmas movie plot with a handsome love interest to lure her away from the intensity of the high-tech corporate rat race.
Carol had rehearsed this so often, she practically had the script written. She couldn’t play the Best Friend role, but she also couldn’t hurt Daisy, so it had been best to fade to a background character in Daisy’s life.
She took a deep breath and headed into the pub, leather jacket and scarf wrapped tightly around her to protect from the cold and any harsh realities that might be waiting for her inside.
—--------------
The pub was decorated for the holidays—all of the wintery ones, from Hanukkah to Christmas to Kwanzaa to Yule. There were kitschy knick-knacks and banners and table centerpieces from the world’s cultures among various movie references, Santa Mickey Mouses, and a giant inflatable Frosty the Snowman. The visual busyness stood out particularly on this quiet night for the pub. It was too early for the nightlife crowd, and most of the regulars were at home with family or on vacations away.
So Daisy sat in a booth anxiously waiting for Carol, heart leaping every time the door opened. Eventually, Carol appeared and waved, and Daisy couldn’t help but light up like a Christmas tree. The room felt warmer as Carol approached, and as Carol took in the sight of her, Carol seemed to glow too.
“Hi,” Daisy finally said when Carol was close enough.
“Hi.” Carol exhaled and sat down. The silence between them was broken by the waitress coming to take their drink order. Enticed by the special holiday cider on tap, they took a chance on something new and different.
“It’s been a while,” Daisy hinted, masking a bittersweet tone with a light smile. “Tell me about your life. What have you been up to?”
But Carol could still see right through Daisy’s facade, just like old times.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Carol sighed. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself. I…”
“Things get busy!” Daisy interrupted. “It’s okay.”
“No, no,” Carol rushed out and then paused. She couldn’t tell Daisy the real reason, but lying to her felt so wrong. “I was just jealous, I guess. You have an amazing life, and I don’t want to get in the way of that or mess anything up by coming back…”
Daisy snorted. “What are you talking about? You are the one with the impressive degree and stories about all these new places and people. I thought you just didn’t think we were cool enough for you—”
“Oh c’mon,” Carol interrupted back. “You know I’m still a total nerd and you’re…” Carol stopped herself and gestured to Daisy’s whole body with a wave of her hand. “You know.”
Daisy brushed off the implied compliment and leaned in, relaxing into the conversation. “No, you’re not getting in the way, ever. It’s not hearing from you that is the hard part.”
“I’m sorry.” Carol’s puppy dog eyes were all that Daisy needed to melt fully into forgiveness, at least for the moment. She couldn’t be mad when Carol was so sincere. Daisy’s hand found Carol’s on the table and squeezed, but then pulled away as the waitress returned with their hard ciders. She took their food orders (shepherd’s pie for both of them) and disappeared into the kitchen once more.
Carol sipped on her cider in its tall glass etched with a snowflake and the brand name. “Mmm, that’s really good.”
Daisy almost forgot to drink her own, fully wrapped up in witnessing Carol’s reaction. Shaking herself out of her trance, Daisy took a sip of her own and agreed. Carol filled Daisy in on the details of the job and the plan for the move, and Daisy reciprocated with details about her own daily life here since they’d last talked. Their shepherd’s pies came, and they settled into their old familiar banter and gossip and teasing.
“You know what?” Carol said between final bites of her meal. “I’ve been to five weddings this year, but only one required heels. I was a bridesmaid for my cousin and she was NOT open to negotiation on that. Super formal.”
“Okay, I definitely have to see pictures of that.” Daisy laughed. “So many people getting married! You know Jemma and Fitz finally set a date for next fall.”
“Yeah, but she put a hard no on Halloween weekend?”
“Yes!” Daisy laughed. “Fitz’s friends would definitely have used that to prank them somehow. Anyway. How about you? Any special ladies in your life?”
The lighthearted tone between them faded, but they both pretended it hadn’t. Carol set down her fork and looked away, missing the glimmer of hope and fear in Daisy’s eyes.
“Nah, way too busy, you know how it goes.” Carol shrugged casually and met Daisy’s glance. “I mean, if I can’t even text you back, I definitely don’t have time for a girlfriend, and I knew I was moving away from there anyway after graduation…” Carol trailed off just as it started to sound like a list of excuses.
“Yeah, me too,” Daisy agreed. “With the job, way too crazy.”
Things fell silent again as the waitress came back for their dishes and offered another round of cider, but they refused. She left them with their check instead.
“I’ve got it,” Daisy offered, taking the check before Carol had a chance. “Consider it a Christmas gift. Or a welcome home present. Whichever you want.”
“Thanks. I should probably get going,” Carol said, but her voice and expression said the opposite.
“Tomorrow is family game night. Want to come and be my partner, make it an even four?”
“Yeah, okay.” Carol nodded and added, “Just like old times.”
Daisy’s phone buzzed. As she glanced down at it, Carol’s gaze followed. Daisy rolled her eyes at the name and number on the screen before she dismissed the call. “Work. Sorry, I should call them back. But tomorrow at 6. There will be chili!” Daisy grinned, knowing how much Carol loved Phil’s famous chili.
Carol sat processing the evening after Daisy left, but one final detail in particular. Daisy’s phone background was, unmistakably, a Christmas tree in bi Pride flag colors with the same indigo blue, purple, and pink in snowflakes around it and rainbow-flag-wrapped gifts under the tree.
It could be a coincidence. Perhaps Daisy just liked the colors. But Carol had taken her to plenty of Pride events in college and knew she knew enough to get the symbolism of those particular colors. Why hadn’t Daisy told her?
Unless. Oh. Of course. Daisy didn’t want Carol to think that by coming out, it meant that Daisy felt that way about her. Carol resolved to pretend she hadn’t seen it. If Daisy felt comfortable coming out to her, she would. And if it was all a big misunderstanding, just a festive graphic, no harm done in avoiding assumptions.
Still, that night in bed, a part of her, the part that dealt in dreams where her rational mind was helpless to stop it, dared to send her into a sleepworld where Daisy had run into her arms at the pub and kissed her like in the movies. In the dream, there was no waitress or staff or food, just the two of them and the tables at an unrealistically convenient height.
When she woke up in the morning, the harsh winter light was all the colder for the loss of the fantasy that clearly wasn’t meant to be.
—--------------------
“You’ve got…” Daisy reached up reflexively and wiped away a bit of hot cocoa and whipped cream from just above Carol’s upper lip. Phil and Melinda watched on in amusement but said nothing.
Carol blushed. “Your turn.”
It took Daisy a second to get her head back in the game.
Chili had been delicious but that was hours ago, and now they had moved on from Pictionary to charades to late-night hot cocoa and a final game involving strategic moves and countermoves: the epic battlefield of Scrabble.
It felt like every word Daisy could think of was entirely inappropriate or could be twisted to be dirty. She was far too distracted by Carol’s presence: her laugh, her genuine interest in Phil and Melinda’s lives, the way she fit right in here at family game night. Needless to say, Daisy’s score was significantly less competitive than normal. Phil won, with Carol in a close second. They all agreed to a rematch now that Carol was back.
“Where she belongs,” Daisy finished. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but there it was.
“Aww,” Phil smiled warmly at Carol.
“Thanks,” Carol replied in happiness. “I swear this with just the four of us feels more like family sometimes than my loud, big family with all my cousins and nephews and everyone.” She rolled her eyes, recounting the dysfunctional chaos of the past week.
“You always have a place here,” Melinda affirmed with a simple nod.
“Getting late,” Phil hinted to Melinda, “Why don’t we clean up here and let the girls say goodnight.”
With that, Daisy walked Carol to the door. They both lingered, wanting what they were convinced the other didn’t.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Carol asked finally.
“Oh, were we supposed to…?”
“No, no,” Carol rushed out. “I guess that was my way of asking if you wanted to hang out again tomorrow. Or another time. Whenever.”
Daisy tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “I would, but we’re going to see my grandparents tomorrow. I’ll text you, though. If you promise to text back.” She teased Carol with the last bit, her tongue peaking out of her smile.
“Yes, touché,” Carol laughed. “I promise. I’m never gonna leave you hanging like that again.”
“Good.” Daisy opened the door, as if she’d been waiting for those magic words to allow Carol to go.
“Goodnight.” Carol had to pull herself away like taffy, literally attracted to Daisy here in the low lighting of the entryway as if drawn in by a goodnight-kiss magnet.
Little did she know, Daisy felt it too, but responded in the opposite way: she drew Carol in for a hug.
“I’m really glad you’re back. Not just for Christmas, but for real.” Daisy let go and Carol backed away, out onto the stoop.
“Me too.” Carol smiled and turned to walk away. She noted when she reached her old truck that Daisy was still watching from the open front door, letting in the chill but refusing to take her eyes off Carol until Carol had waved and driven away into the night.
“I love you,” Daisy whispered to the fading taillights of Carol’s truck.
Inside the truck, Carol skipped Joni Mitchell’s “River” and turned up “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” too loud in an attempt to drown out her aching heart.
---------------
Read chapter two on Ao3
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minim236 · 1 year
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Eloise Comes Out
or at least she tries to.
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Eloise hesitated, standing outside of her mother's bedroom. She felt like a child again, looking for her mama and papa to cuddle with. She would be joined by Daphne and sometimes even Colin, all snuggled in their parent's warm embrace.
What if this was to be the last time she was allowed here?
"Come in!" She heard her mother say when she knocked. She pushed the door open, seeing her mother reading her book.
"Eloise, how are you, darling?" She asked, putting her book down, smiling warmly at her.
"I am well." Eloise said, swallowing, "But we must speak."
"Of course. Whatever is the matter?" She indicated that she sit down, moving to make space for her on the chaise lounge.
Eloise did not sit, however, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress.
"Eloise, you are beginning to worry me," Violet said, sitting up even more.
"Why should you be worried?" She tittered nervously, and her eyes were drawn to the vase full of flowers. Violets and roses are so beautiful, and her mother always managed to make them even prettier.
"That is a lovely bouquet." Eloise said, "The way you have put it together."
Violet raised an eyebrow, her eyes darting from the flowers to her daughter. She was nervous, if not terrified, "Thank you, but I doubt you wished to know of my flower arranging skills."
Eloise nodded, sitting down and placing her hands in her lap, "I am not getting married. Ever." She announced.
"You have made that purposefully clear." Violet said, "I understand."
"But I am in love with someone. They make me feel..." She sighed, never quite able to articulate how she felt about Marina. How she felt so warm when she smiled at her. The way her heart burst when they read to the twins or laughed over ridiculous books they would pick up at random.
"They make me feel the way I think Father made you feel." She finished quietly.
Violet's eyes softened, "Well, I am glad to hear that. You do worry, as a mother, that your child could be lonely. And Romeny Hall is not too far from Aubery Hall. You will never be too far from family." She reasoned.
Eloise's heart dropped to her stomach, "W-What do you...?"
"You and Marina." Violet said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world to her, "I think it is charming, and her children are just wonderful."
Tears stung in her eyes and she felt herself inhale before clasping a hand over her mouth to muffle a sob.
"You knew?" Eloise choked out. She shook her head when her mother tried to hug her at first, needing to know first.
"I suspected." Violet admitted, "I thought at first your disgust at boys and your hatred for marriage was only childish, but then I watched you with Lady Crane, practically courting and now living together? I was pushing you towards the wrong partner!"
Eloise threw herself into her mother's arms which quicky wrapped themselves around her, stroking her hair and rubbing her back soothingly. She knew. She knew all this time.
"Benedict may have mentioned something too. A poet named Sappho, he told me to read." Violet whispered, making her laugh. Her nosy, wonderful brother. Her mother kissed the side of her head before Eloise pulled away, wiping her tears.
"Do you still love me?" She asked, her voice breaking.
"I never stopped." Violet whispered, "I won't pretend to fully understand but I do know how love works and well, are you happy Eloise?" That was what she needed to know.
"I am. Truly. So very happy, mama." Eloise told her. Violet took her hand and squeezed.
"Then I will be happy too."
"You will not get those grandchildren from me."
"I also have two married sons, one of which has two children and a daughter who already has four children. I have more than enough to preoccupy my time with, and I believe I should maybe knit something for the twins. They are practically family now, are they not?" Violet told her.
"Thank you, mother."
"Always."
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writing-with-rain · 1 year
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Lay It All Out
a “Coming Out” one-shot for Leo. Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Nicole Amore Wolf  My Rise turtle blog: @ninjamutantturtleteens
For Toffee, @frostbittenbucky, because what are friends for if not writing the fanfiction you want to see and cannot find more of. 
Notes: This is both a coming out fic as Leo find a way to tell each of his family members, but it also shows them struggling with the aftermath of the Krang invasion too. Some instances of miscommunication but overall Fluff and comforting - I think.
This is the first time I have written for the turtles, so trying to get a grip on them!
Summary:  A lot has happened since the defeat of the Krang – healing of bodies and minds, settling into new routines as everyone picked up the pieces and tried to fit them back into their lives. After strict bedrest, Leo realizes it’s time he tells his family something important. 
Word Count: 7,706
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“’Nardo, don’t.” Donnie warns, gaze locked onto his invention, but acutely aware of the way his twin hesitates, retracting his hand from the trinket he had been reaching for. Leonardo’s form sways in and out of the soft shell's line of sight and he has half a mind to tell the turtle in blue to go back to bed – it’s late, and Donnie still worries over the lingering wounds on his body and cracks in Leo’s shell, even if he finds voicing the sentiment a challenge. 
Leo knows anyways. He’s been reading his brother like an open book since they were little. 
And it’s 16 years of living with Leo that tell him something is wrong. Donnie stops. ‘Wrong’ isn’t the word he wants to use, and he knows it. But at the same time, it’s a sense of Déjà vu. This scenario has played out before. Rare in their appearance, and they’re older than the last time Donnie remembers his twin asking. 
It’s always something important at a time like this. 
Leo is silent as he stands in the doorway, teetering on the precipice – somewhere between barging in and spilling everything that sits on the tip of his tongue and running away before Donnie can find a good place to pause. Always in the late hours of the night, when their brothers and father were least likely to interrupt their fragile moment of vulnerability. 
For a moment Donatello thinks it might have to do with the Krang, but when he sets his tools aside and looks over to his twin the thought is banished. This isn’t the same bone-deep tiredness Donnie has seen weighing Leo down when he finds him knocking back a mug of black coffee at 4am after a nightmare, or the tension he holds in every step as he moves from room to room just to make sure his brothers are still there. Still breathing. 
All the same it has Donnie’s attention. 
He spins in his chair, facing Leo head on before motioning him inside the lab. Donnie almost misses the way he hesitates before the emotional wall comes back up and the red-eared slider is stepping inside, letting the lab door close behind him. 
It is silent once more as Leo sits near him, self-stationed on the chilled floor, looking anywhere except for his twin. Donnie doesn’t push it either. He struggles enough with being emotionally vulnerable, and he knows if he pushes Leo then all he’ll get is a backtracked excuse and apology before the blue turtle is out the door. And judging by the emotions flickering across his face, Donnie knows Leo is trying to find the words he wants to say. 
“Donnie, would you – I don’t know.” Leo falters, eyes glued to the floor and fingers a white-knuckled vice grip on his leg. For a moment he reaches up to tug at the tail ends of his mask, only to absently seem to remember he isn’t wearing it and lowering his hand once more. 
“Leonardo.” Donnie starts, causing his brother's head to whip up as he meets his eyes. “It’s alright.” 
It’s a comfort that Leo seems to latch onto as his shoulders slump in relief. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “Would you think any differently of me if” he hesitates for only a moment longer as he glances at Donnie in concern, “if I was attracted to guys?” 
Donnie blinks for a moment, surprised by the question. “If you were attracted to guys?” 
Leo nods, eyes locked onto Donnie – it's in the way that he twitches, and his form stiffens that the scientist knows he’s gearing up to run for it. 
“Why would that matter?” 
It’s immediate, the way Donatello can see the relief washing over his brother. He seems to almost fold in on himself, like the adrenaline of his confession was the only thing keeping him upright the entire time. 
“So, you don’t care?” 
It's already been an emotionally charged few minutes, Donnie reasons internally, as he considers what he should say.  “I care that you’re happy” he says, quiet, before a quick addendum slips out, “and safe.” The gaze he levels Leo with doesn’t go unnoticed, but at least his brother has the courtesy to acknowledge the underlying concern. Donnie counts that as a win. 
“Thanks Dee.” It’s soft. Not the boisterous teasing or quick wit of their normal conversations, and Donatello knows that Leo means it in a way he cannot currently communicate. 
“Does anyone else know?” 
It’s a question that has their fearless leader shrinking in on himself once more and that is all the answer Donatello needs, but he waits for confirmation. 
“Not yet, but don’t tell them.” 
Donnie doesn’t respond to that one, at least not verbally. And a part of him he can feel begins to swell with pride that his brother had chosen to come to him first. He’ll sit through a hundred seminars with Dr. Feelings before he admits as much, though. 
Donatello won't say a word to their brothers, or anyone, and Leo already knows as much. 
The purple-clad turtle stands, stretching, before he moves to the other side of his lab and pulls out a spare chair hiding against the corner, rolling it next to his own tucked against the desk before sitting back down. Silently he motions to the empty seat beside him – Leo looks drained after their conversation, and the claws of sleep are starting to sneak up on him, but Donnie knows if he lets his twin leave now, Leo won't return to his bed. And it's tradition, in a way, that they always stay together after one of them needs to talk like this. 
Leo, aware of what his brother is doing, and silently grateful, cracks a joke instead. “Gonna try to put me to sleep with science, Don-Tron?” 
There’s a smile that pulls at the edges of his mouth, but Donnie forces it back down in practiced mock annoyance. “Scoff, someone has to be the responsible twin at least.” 
Leo says nothing, but the soft chuckle under his breath is enough of a giveaway as he climbs into the seat, resting his head and arms on the table as Donnie returns to his work. 
“What are you doing?” 
His voice is drenched with a drowsy quality, and Donnie knows he won't be awake for much longer, but he appreciates the sentiment, deciding to humor his brother this time, beginning to explain the building process. Almost 5 minutes later, Leo is asleep, and Donnie continues his work silently next to him. 
It’s three weeks later that Leo is coming out to the next person in his family. 
April, in all her stubborn glory, had decided after one rough nightmarish memory, that she was dragging Leo out and refusing to take no for an answer. Sweetening the deal with his favorite large pizza from Run of The Mill. 
Not that the blue coded terrapin was going to be complaining about spending some time with one of his favorite people. April had been busy as is, trying her best to keep up with the mounting college work and her journalism, amidst the aftermath of the Krang invasion that still haunted them all. 
Leo would still shudder thinking about the teary-eyed scolding he had received as soon as she had laid eyes on him, realizing he was alive – if a little worse for wear. 
Perched atop a building, hidden in the shadows, the pair scarfed down the last of their pizza, eyeing the people that buzzed below, scurrying from one destination to the next. It was a comfort, that despite the overarching night that had settled in hours ago, the lights and noise of the city persisted – a reminder that they were still here. 
Leo had needed this, he absently realized. A moment out, just to watch the people and cars go by. Some silent time to listen to the buzz of the city. To drive out the idea that it would all be gone when he woke up. 
April, as perceptive as ever, moved from her spot, scooting closer until she was shoulder to shoulder with him. When he remained staring out, lost in space, she reached up, giving a tug to the blue mask tail determined to hit her in the face if the wind would allow. 
It was enough to pull him back to the present, turning to face her with a questioning look. 
He seemed content, and unwilling to spoil the good mood, she realized it had been too long since she had poked any fun at him. A devious smile crossed her face as Leo seemed to ready himself in response. 
They were just close enough to make out some of the people below – features were vague and blurry, but that had never stopped them before. Zeroing in on one, April threw her arm around Leo’s shoulder, pointing down at the two people standing just a few feet away from the bus stop. Bright green hair makes the girl easy to pinpoint. 
“She’s totally cute, right? We should get you a cloaking brooch,” she leaned on Leo, swaying them in place before righting the pair, “let’s see the face-man try to get a number then.” 
She paused when she felt the way he tensed under her hold, eyes flickering in every direction before they stopped on his hands, gently cupped in his lap while one of his feet swung idly. “Leo?” 
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, rolling his shoulders to brush it off, his trademark smirk returning to his face. But something about it looked a little too forced for her liking. 
“Hey if she’s not your type then you need to let me know who is – I've gotta set you up eventually.” She stopped, humming in thought for a moment, “You know, for Splinter’s sake.” Glancing back out at the dissipating sea of people, April took the next few minutes to point out a few different girls, noticing the drop of his shoulders each time. 
After 30 minutes, 10 of which were spent in silence as she racked her brain, she finally let out a resigned huff, turning to face him. “Okay, so it isn’t anybody I pointed out, what is your type then?” 
Leo seemed to hesitate at that, eyes shifting from person to person in what April internally deemed an agonizing 5 minutes of silence. Finally, he stopped, turning to look at her before his confidence seemed to dissipate and he was playing with the hilt of his sword. “The first girl, um, her friend is pretty cute.” 
His words were low, almost enough that April missed what he said. She paused for a moment, confused – but she thought? Wait. 
She looked down, scanning for the original duo, and there she found them, now leaning against the wall of the bus stop. Moving forward she studied them, ignoring the first girl she had pointed out in favor of the person next to her. 
Realization began to dawn on her as she sat straighter, still facing forward to give Leo a thread of privacy before she spoke. “I’m pretty sure that’s a guy, Lee.” 
She was watching him, and for a moment she wasn’t sure he had heard her until he gave a swift, single nod of his head. 
“Wait, that’s your type?” she asked incredulously. 
Leo stopped, feeling his world shatter for a moment as he looked away, trying to force down the tears he could feel beginning to sting his eyes. That single moment felt like an eternity before her next words had his head spinning in her direction. 
“They’re nothing alike! If anything, I would have thought someone like him would be more your style!” 
Leo followed where she was pointing, singling out a guy standing just on the corner. He was cute, that Leo could agree with – but neither were really his type. 
He realized a second later he had spoken out loud when April snorted. “Alright, well what kind of guys does the great Neon Leon go for? Maybe I can set you up with this guy in my Algebra class. Oh, or-” 
But Leo had stopped listening for the moment, just staring at her in surprise as she rattled off a list of guys she knew – and trusted – that might be his type.  Her phone secured in her hands as she flipped through different social media profiles, analyzing each one before finding some flaw with them and moving along. It was enough to have him laughing, and laugh he did, the sound falling from his mouth before he could stop it. 
April paused in her quest, looking over to the laughing turtle next to her until he managed to catch his breath – staying quiet when he plopped his head onto her shoulder, eyes closed. 
“Thanks, Apes.” 
“No problem.” 
They stayed like that for a few minutes before Leo’s stomach growled again – an echoing demand for more pizza and both were laughing once more. 
Standing, and pulling Leo up with her, April pushed him forward. “Come on, let’s head back to Run of the Mill and get some more, my treat, but” she said, popping the ‘T’ as she eyed him, “I want details on your type.” 
Leo held his hands up in defeat, knowing arguing would get him nowhere once she had set a goal. “But only because I haven’t seen Señor Hueso in ages,” he drawled. 
He decides the next person to tell is going to be Michelangelo - because Leo could use the help from Dr. Feelings now that this fear is beginning to claw back up his throat. And because Mikey, his precious baby brother, had always been a bit too good at sniffing out emotional turmoil. The way that he had been eyeing the turtle in blue tells Leo that it won't be long before he finds himself confronted anyways. Best to rip the Band-Aid off, he reasons. 
It is a quiet day, no training, no worries, while Raph and Donnie had volunteered to go on the pizza run that night, while Splinter remained dead asleep in his room. It was the perfect time, Leo knew, setting out to track the box turtle down. 
He stopped by Mikey’s room first, glancing in at the art supplies that covered the floors and his desk. But no sign of his brother, not even a dip in the new hammock they had managed to snag for him. So, Leo straightened up, one hand pressed to his beak as he thought about where Mikey could have wandered off to. 
Resolve to find him before the return of their brothers settled in and Leo began scouring the lair, checking in every room he could find until he came to the projector room. 
There, in a pair of too big glasses and a brown sweater stood Dr. Feelings, a slideshow already pulled up. 
Leo leaned on the doorframe, an amused expression on his face. “An ambush, Mikey.” he chided before stepping past the threshold and taking a seat. 
“I just thought it was time you talked to Dr. Feelings,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders and leveling his older brother with a steady gaze. 
“Well lucky me then, I was actually hoping to talk to Dr. Feelings.” 
Mikey seemed surprised enough at his statement, usually his brothers tried to wiggle out of his seminars on the off times he deemed them necessary. “Well, what can Dr. Feelings help with?” 
Leo noticed the way Mikey seemed to light up, not wanting to waste the chance to help one of his brothers. It made it easier, in a way. This was Mikey, if anyone was going to be understanding, it would be him. But that didn’t stop the icy grip of fear that seemed to keep Leo silent in the moment. 
Mikey had noticed a flash of concern crossing his face and he moved to sit on the arm of the chair, one hand resting gently on Leo’s shoulder. 
“Are you okay?” 
Silence, again, but he managed to flash his little brother a ‘one moment’ signal, trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, his voice took pity on him and words, however soft they were, began to tumble out. “I was wondering if Dr. Feelings had any suggestions on how to tell my little brother something important.” 
Michelangelo stopped for a moment, contemplating his words. “I think it depends on what that something is.” 
Leo nods slowly, eyes closed, opting instead to focus on the soft touch on his shoulder. It would be okay. He knew it. But knowing something wasn’t always enough to stop the fear – that lingering weight of “what if it’s the worst case?” 
“Leonardo?” 
His full name pulls him from his own thoughts, and he looks up at Mikey, just a bit taller than him thanks to his seat. “I’ve been trying, for a few days, to figure out how to tell my little brother that I’m into guys - because I know he’ll be okay with it, but I’m still scared that he’ll be mad. Even if that’s dumb.” 
It isn’t more than a moment later that Mikey is clinging to Leo like his life depends on it, having wiggled his way under his arm and against his side. “It’s okay to be afraid, Leo, and it isn’t dumb.” 
The slider pauses before wrapping his arms around his brother, squeezing back to anchor himself into the moment. 
“But you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with it, I’m not mad. I’m glad you told me.” 
Leo can’t help but let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Relieved to hear those words, even if he had logically known the outcome. But it’s the sharp gasp of surprise and Mikey’s head shooting up that catch him off guard. 
“Wait! Do you have a boyfriend? Are you flirting with someone? Is that why you’re telling me? Do I get to meet them – I want to meet them! Where did you meet them?” 
And there it is – all rapid-fire questions and warmth, enveloped in such earnest curiosity and love that Leo can’t help but smile and bask in it like sunshine, before realizing he should probably set the record straight. So, with a poorly concealed laugh he covers his brother's mouth, making a face when Mikey glares and licks his hand in a failed attempt to make him let go. The elder only rolls his eyes. Younger siblings. Honestly. 
“I’m not seeing anyone,” and Mikey has a look on his face that says he doesn’t believe it, so Leo swears it again before he continues. “I just thought it was time to start telling you guys. But not everyone knows yet, so, ya know.” Leo trails off at the end, giving a weak shrug as he lets Mikey go. 
For all his barely contained excitement, there is a look of understanding on Mikey’s face. “They won't hear anything from me.” 
“Promise, Michael?” 
“My lips are sealed,” he stresses, mimicking the zip-and-lock motion. 
Leo lets himself relax, for the first time since they had decided to order pizza, and sinks into the cushions, one arm still slung around his koala of a brother who refuses to move from his seat. Instead of fighting it, he closes his eyes, ready to take a nap until the others return and the smell of pizza wakes him up. 
With one brother accounted for, and the weight on his chest just a little lighter, sleep comes easier than usual. 
A month passes after the Dr. Feelings session, a month before Leo even considers telling anyone else. 
If he just doesn’t dwell on it, then he can almost forget he still has people he wants to tell. Sure, the easy way out would be having the others bring it up or say it for him, but something about that scenario leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 
It has to come from him, it’s just a matter of when he decides. 
The time decides for him instead. It’s two days after his first mission out, with old wounds reaggravated his brothers convince him to sit out until they heal. For the sake of their thread bare sanity over his health, he agrees. But he won't like it. 
Too wired and worried over his brothers, Leo finds himself unable to sit still. And with nobody to stop him, his feet seem to pull him in the direction of the training room. Empty and inviting. He knows enough about his body to know what is going to be too much. But some training will serve his restlessness well. Even if his injuries do suffer a bit, he’ll be ready – otherwise what kind of team medic would he be. 
An hour later of running through drills that won’t tear at the stitches in his leg. Ignoring the burn of muscles that beg for him to stop – still not willing to move from being bed ridden directly after the Krang attack. And all it takes is that one thought. A mental flash of the encroaching Krang and the prison dimension, being shoved around and beaten on. So sure that he would die. His body is flooded with the memory of the pain and his leg gives out under him suddenly. 
It’s almost as if the world is moving in slow motion before he crashes backwards off the mat and straight into one of the training dummies, taking it down with him. He lays there for a second, catching his breath. 
His heart is racing, and it isn’t from the workout, if the bile crawling up his throat is anything to go by. Blood thunders in his ears and the feeling of the stone ground under him isn’t enough to keep him in the moment, eyes squeezed shut, the fear that if he opens then he'll be face to face with an alien and an endless void. 
It’s a voice that shocks him back into the moment. 
“Blue?” 
Splinter stands in the doorway, worried as he steps towards his son who has finally acknowledged him. Carefully he helps him sit up before Leo is wrapping his arms around him. All Splinter can do is hold him, whispering reassurances as sobs wrack his body. Careful in his motions, he slowly pulls his son up, determined to move them to the projector room chair so he can check Leo over. 
When they do finally reach their destination, the terrapin all but collapses into it, rubbing the tears away furiously from his eyes as he regains his bearings. His father sits in front of him, first aid kit in hand and Leo realizes he doesn’t even know when he had the chance to leave and get it. 
“My son, let me see your arm.” 
The turtle glances down, vaguely aware of the sting on his bicep. Realizing the skin had been broken and blood was beginning to dry around the edges. He holds his arm out, letting his father work. 
The time passes in silence, but Splinter can see it in the way Leo holds himself. He’s beginning to calm down, and the best thing he can think to do is crack a joke. 
“You know, if you keep getting yourself all scraped up, I’ll never find a nice girl to marry you off to,” he jests, “or your brothers.” 
Leo seems to still at that, and Splinter takes notice, looking at him with a curious gaze. But his son’s eyes are unfocused, head tilted to the side. So the rat stops, giving one more glance to the bandaged arm before waiting for his son to speak. 
He knows this look; this is the same fearful look Leo had been sporting when he had come to wake Splinter up as a turtle tot, scared to tell him that he had thrown up. He had been running a fever for days, so Splinter did his best as a single father to put his sons worries away and get baby blue back up to health. And whatever was plaguing his son's mind would be gone soon if he got his way. 
“What if-” Leo paused, before wrapping his arms around himself. 
Splinter lets him, allowing him the space he needs to feel safe. 
“What if I don’t want you to marry me off to a girl?” 
“Blue, I am only joking – okay, mostly joking – when I say I want to marry you off. I would never make you boys marry someone you did not love.” Splinters words don’t seem to have the effect he wants, and Leo shifts uncomfortably in front of him. 
“No, I mean, you know, what if I want to marry a guy?” His voice is small, like he’s waiting for the shoe to drop. For Splinter to be angry. Disappointed. Something. 
The realization makes Splinter’s heart sink, that one of his sons would think that something as simple as who he loved would make him mad. He reaches forward, pulling Leo back into his embrace. 
“Oh, my son, who you love will never make me see you any differently.” he reassures, running a soft hand over Leo’s shell. The turtle sinks into his hold, burying his face into the side of his father’s neck. 
“Are you sure?” 
“Just don’t date someone anti-Lou Jitsu,” he cackles. 
It works, earning a laugh and an affronted gasp from Leo. “Never! I could never date someone like that!” 
His theatrics leave them both in hysterics for a few moments, until Splinter finds the chance to speak again. “I had an inkling of such feelings, you know.” 
Leo freezes, noticing the way his father seems to eye him with a knowing smile. “You did?” 
“Of course, I’m still your father – but you never said anything, or brought any boys home, so I never thought I needed to mention it.” 
Somehow those words put Leo at ease, more than he could have expected. 
Splinter can read his change in body language as clear as day. But what is a heartfelt admission from his son if he doesn’t use it to mess with him? Even a little. “Besides, back in my days as famous action star Lou Jitsu I may,” he draws out the ‘a’ as he strokes his beard, “have kissed a few guys as well.” 
He has to bite his tongue at the look of horror that spreads across Leo’s face. An admission of his father’s dating life had not been on the table for this talk, and Leo immediately regrets his decision. So Splinter continues. “Ah, yes, I remember one time -” 
“No! No, no, no!” The turtle is frantically crawling over the back of the recliner, dead set on escaping the rest of this memory lane road trip. “I do not want to hear about your love life, old man!” 
His actions pull a deep belly laugh from Splinter, who throws his head back as his son puts space and the recliner between the two of them, face still scrunched up in mortification. “If you cannot handle a little romance, how am I supposed to marry you off to a nice young man, blue one?” 
Splinter doesn’t miss the way Leonardo’s face softens for a second, body relaxed, before the situation hits him again and he turns tail, fleeing as fast as his injured leg will allow him to in a bid to escape his father’s teasing. 
It’s a week later of avoiding Splinter’s subtle remarks and his brothers nagging over his reopened wound, sitting with Casey in his room as they read through his collection of comics – some of which had been ‘borrowed’ from Donnie – that Leo is first introduced to the idea that someone else might have known the entire time. 
Leo isn’t Master Leonardo. And maybe he never will be. But there are parts of his core personality that even the apocalypse couldn’t erase, and Leo can see the way that Casey struggles with this dichotomy. Leo cannot be the father figure that Casey knew and trying had led to a fight. But he can be an older brother figure to him now. 
And now is when it’s needed. 
He can see the way that Casey’s eyes keep skimming over the same page, one he’s been staring at for the last 15 minutes, completely unaware that Leo has been watching him. He’s getting stuck in his own head, and Leo has an idea over what. 
So, he changes tactics, setting his own comic aside and pushing his foot against Casey’s leg, getting his attention. The future boy looks sheepish for a moment, knowing he’s been caught but Leo shrugs it off. The comics will always be there the next time. 
“Tell me about him.” 
It gives Casey a pause before he’s lighting up, a smile on his face as soon as he realizes what Leo means. It’s a way to keep their memory alive, and Casey cherishes the chances he gets to share their stories. Stories that never have to come to pass. 
But it isn’t a tale of heroism or danger that he feels like relaying. Instead, he looks at the ceiling of the subway car Leo calls a room, chuckling to himself. 
“Do you want to hear a story that Master Michelangelo told me about Master Leonardo, when he was younger – older than you now, but still.” 
Leo’s interest is piqued, and he sits up, hunched forward with his face in his hands, elbows to his knees as he waits for Casey to continue. 
“Master Michelangelo said that when they were younger, Leonardo had this boyfriend – I think he was a Yokai?” 
But Leo doesn’t hear anything else for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. It hadn’t occurred to him that Casey knew. Even coming from the future, with the threat of the Krang invasion, well, when would it have been brought up? 
Of course, it had been Mikey. 
But that isn’t the part that surprises Leo. Instead, before him sits Casey, retelling a story that Leo really means to be paying attention to - because maybe he should avoid dating this guy – and he keeps saying boyfriend without a single thought. 
It isn’t some big secret, or hushed story to tell. Leo is just glad that he asked in private. Because to Casey this is just another fact of life. 
His mom is Cassandra Jones. He grew up in a Krang invasion. He went back to the past and changed the future. His Sensei, whose younger self is sitting right next to him, is a gay mutant turtle. And pizza tastes better than rats. 
They’re not up for debate, they’re just things he knows, and he doesn’t think twice about. 
But Casey has noticed Leo is no longer paying attention, figuring as much when he doesn’t make a snide quip over something Casey finds incredibly funny, but at the expense of his Sensei’s pride. 
“Are you okay?” 
Leo is giving him a funny look and Casey isn’t sure what he’s said to warrant it but it’s sending him spiraling trying to figure out where he went wrong. 
“You know?” 
Leo’s question shines exactly zero light on what he’s talking about, and Casey just stares him in the eye, waiting for some sort of explanation. 
“You know I’m gay.” 
It’s less of a question and more of a statement as the turtle straightens up, waiting. 
“Everyone does. Or did?” It finally dawns on him what the issue might be. “Wait, do they not know here?” 
Leo glances to the curtain that hangs over his door, as if he expects someone to pop out from behind it at any moment. Finally, he looks back to Casey. 
“Most of them, and if you know then that just leaves Raph.” 
“Oh.” he sits, brows furrowed as that information sinks in. “Should I not have said anything?” 
Leo laughs at that. “I’m glad you did – I had no idea how to tell you. I was considering just letting you figure it out when I showed up with a boyfriend.” 
“Just not a raccoon Yokai” Casey blurts. 
Leo is giving him a strange look in return, a silent request for context. 
It takes everything in Casey not to roll his eyes – Leo really hadn’t been listening. He’d need to start the story over again. Before Leo falls into a wishing fountain trying to impress a Yokai only to get his wallet stolen. 
Leo is almost tempted to ask if it bothers Casey, but the way that he’s looking at the turtle right now says if he asks then he’ll never hear the end of it. 
Leo’s gay. Splinter is a rat. And Mikey has a tooth gap. That’s just how things are. 
Leo couldn’t be happier about it either, leaning back and getting comfortable. “So, why do I need to avoid cute raccoon Yokai?” 
At the mention of the story once more, Casey settles opposite Leo, starting back from the beginning and readying himself for Leo’s affronted quips and defenses. 
After the conversation with Casey, Leo knew that left only one person to tell: Raph. And for some reason, the idea of Raphael finding out set him on edge more than anyone. Leo just could not pinpoint why. 
Sure, Raph was bigger than him, and older, and they had had their fair share of fights and sibling squabbles. But he had always been there for Leo. There was no reason now that he should be so worried about telling him. 
After Mikey, Raph was probably the next person Leo would have clocked as the most accepting. He was so sure that he would be. And yet, for some reason, for the last 3 weeks that Leo had been trying to work up the nerve to talk to him about it, his body would betray him. Every. Time. 
The worst part of it all was the pitying looks from his brothers who had realized what he was trying to do. Dr. Feelings had even tried to make an appearance and Leo had never gotten out of the lair so fast in his life. 
Yet time and time again something was there to mess him up – tongue tied mumblings that nobody could understand, nausea that threatened to make him lose a weeks' worth of food or getting so scared he just turned around and walked away – or ran, depending on who you asked. 
Raphael had noticed almost immediately, and as his brother continued to ignore him, he grew increasingly concerned. Until finally it happened. An entire week had gone by, and he hadn’t seen sword or shell of Leo. 
Not at dinner, not at training. His younger brother, their leader, had all but vanished. At least from Raph’s view. 
The others had seen and spoken to him, so he was still in the lair. 
And for the life of him, Raphael could not figure out what he had done. He had tried talking to his brothers, and almost got an answer out of Mikey before April had slapped her hand over his mouth, pulling him away with an apologetic smile and telling Raph that he just needed to hear it from Leo. 
Easier said than done, he had grumbled under his breath before leaving. From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he caught a flash of blue retreating around the bend. 
But it had been 3 days since he had almost gotten an answer to his younger brother’s flakiness. And he was fed up. 
The worst-case scenario was that it had something to do with the Krang and Leo’s guilt. After all, Raph’s eye still hadn’t healed, and they were unsure that it would ever be as strong as it once was. Leo was the one who had told him that, and Raphael had been able to see the way his shoulders bunched, and he refused to meet his gaze. But a leader didn’t let guilt cause him to avoid his team, his brother. So it had to end. 
Armed to the teeth with blankets, an extra pillow, and a handful of his stuffed animals, Raph found himself marching to Leo’s room – the alligator snapping turtle on a mission. And if he had to borrow Mikey’s nunchakus to tie Leo up and make him listen then he would. 
Raph hesitated when he came into view of Leo’s room. There was a soft light lining the curtain, but the snapper had already figured that Leo’s insomnia would be keeping him up for the night. Sleep had been a fleeting luxury before the world had almost ended, but the bags that had remained barely hidden by Leo’s mask said that a good sleep had been even more rare since the nightmares had made a home with him. 
As quietly as he could, he approached the subway car, not bothering to knock and give Leo time to make an escape. Instead, Raph poked his head in, making eye contact with his younger brother who looked surprised to see him. 
Surprised and guilty, at least. 
“Leo.” 
Raph could see the way his brother was chewing at the inside of his cheek, eyes looking for the nearest escape route – a line of thought that needed to be cut off immediately. 
“We need to talk.” 
“Come on, big brother, this late in the night? I need my beauty sleep.” 
His words were lacking, strained even to his ears, and it caused Leo to flinch. So much for selling the performance. 
Raph ignored the bland excuse, stepping forward and dropping his pile of blankets and plushies directly onto Leo, who found himself sputtering as he batted them away from his face. 
It was a standoff – Leo angled just right to take off running, and Raph ready, arms crossed, to grab him the moment he tried. 
But the moment never came, because he was tired. Tired of his brother running away from him and not knowing why, and tired of tracking him down. Instead, he speaks. “What did I do?” Arms uncross, dropping to his sides and expression solemn. 
Leo can feel his heart in his throat the moment he sees the hurt look on his older brother’s face. And for the first time in over a month his body seems to stop, lacking the drive to run away and save himself from any possibility of this conversation going bad. Because this is already his worst-case scenario – hurting his family. 
Raph takes it as his cue, sitting down beside him and pulling Leo into his side, content when his little brother doesn’t hesitate to curl against his spikey shell, blanket thrown haphazardly across his body, hiding the bottom of his face in its edges. 
Leo’s mask is tossed near the door, and Raph can see the dark bags that sit under his eyes, but it isn't the time to mention them. At least not yet. 
“You didn’t do anything, you dum-dum.” Leo’s voice is twisted, like he’s fighting back tears, and maybe he is. But Raph figures the moment he looks down at him this is all going to come apart. 
His grip on Leo tightens just a fraction of a second. Just to make sure he really is there. 
“Then why have you been avoiding me?” 
Leo stops breathing for a moment, shifting to bury his face against Raph’s plastron – like he would do when they were little. When everything was just a bit too much to handle and his best line of defense was hiding as close to his big brother as he could manage. 
It’s been years since he’s done it, save for right after the Krang invasion. But Raph is wrapping his arms around Leo all the same, knowing he needs that pressure to feel secure. 
“Is it my eye?” 
Leo flinches at the question but Raph can still feel the way he shakes his head, a small wave of relief coming over him, followed by more confusion. “What is it?” 
There’s a deep breath, and finally Leo pulls back, not enough to look at Raph, or even move away – his forehead still resting against his brother, but his mouth uncovered so he can actually be heard. 
“There’s something I’ve been trying to tell everyone – and I have! Mostly. You’re the only one I have left to tell now.” 
There’s a part of his heart that hurts when he hears he’s the last one, but Raph says nothing, nudging at his brother’s shell to signal that he’s still listening.  
“I’ve been trying to tell you for a while, but every time I get close, I back out at the last minute.” 
“Why?” The question slips out before Raph has a chance to stop it and he barely stifles a groan in response. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like that. 
Leo shrugs at first, but there’s more to it. Raphael knows that much. So he waits. 
“I guess I was scared.” 
“Weren’t you scared of telling the others?” 
“I mean, yeah, but I guess it was different?” Leo is faltering with his words, trying desperately to find a way to make Raph understand. “It’s just that you’re our big brother, and you were the leader for so long. We always went to you when we were upset or scared. Or if something was on our minds.” 
There’s a pause and Leo is shifting, cheek now flat against his brother’s plastron but when Raph dares a glance down, he finds his eyes are shut tight. 
“And now I’m supposed to be leader, and I know you have a lot of faith in me, so it seemed kind of dumb that this was stressing me out so badly. And I know that it’s gonna be fine, but at the same time, what if it isn’t? You’re my big brother, I don’t want to let you down. Again.” 
The final word is bitter dripping from Leo’s tongue and Raph taps at his shell, a silent reminder of their conversations regarding this before. “So it’s - is it about you not wanting to be the leader?” 
He’s trying. Bless him, he really is. And Leo knows he is. Between cryptic answers and a week of total avoidance, the blue terrapin certainly hasn’t made it easy to figure out. 
“I’m gay, Raph.” 
It’s quiet for a moment and Leo can’t help but attempt to sink deeper into his brother's side, fully intending to disappear. Or try his hardest. 
“That’s it?” 
Leo furrows his brow, head shooting up to actually see Raph’s face. “I’m having a moment of vulnerability here,” he squawks, sitting up to look Raphael in the eye. 
The elder raises one hand, the other still wrapped around Leo’s side, pulling him back into a resting position – Leo will never admit he went down without a fight. 
“Leo, when we were younger, I'm pretty sure I heard you say you wanted to marry Jupiter Jim like, seven times, at least, it wasn’t that hard to figure out. Also, you’re really bad at discreetly checking guys out.” 
Leo says nothing, opting to pout as he turns his face away from the room and the dim lights. It causes Raph to laugh, giving his brother another quick squeeze. 
“I’m sorry – I'm not trying to be a jerk. I just didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret, little brother.” 
Leo sighs, glancing up with a critical look on his face. “So, you don’t mind?” 
“I don’t mind – but I do mind you ignoring me for the last month.” 
“I’m sorry.” 
“It’s fine, I get it, I think. Just promise me you’ll try to come talk to me next time?” 
“Well, I don’t think I’ll need to come out again.” His sentence is broken off by a yelp when Raph smacks at his side. “But I promise,” Leo hisses up, though he fails to keep the smile from his voice. 
Neither of them move once they’ve finished talking. At least not for a few minutes. But then it’s Leo breaking the silence. 
“You thought I was ignoring you because of the invasion, after all this time?” 
“You started acting weird around the last check-up, when you mentioned my eye – so I thought it was that or when you were looking at me you were just seeing Krang possessed Raph. I don’t know, maybe the nightmares had gotten worse.” 
Leo hums in acknowledgement, letting the words sink in. “No, no, nothing like that.” 
Raph looks down at his brother, studying the tired lines and the drop of his eyes. “But the nightmares haven’t let up.” 
It’s a fact, not a question, but Leo finds himself nodding along anyways. 
Raph purses his lips, shifting to lay down and get comfortable, dragging Leo into a similar position next to him. “You don’t have to do this alone you know.” 
“But I’m the leader I -” 
Raphael cuts him off, “you’re still my little brother.” Shifting his weight – really Leo’s bed isn’t big enough, but he’ll make the sacrifice for tonight – Raph uses one hand to pull the covers up around them. “Tomorrow we’ll all have a sleepover in the projector room, I already asked Casey and April and they’re gonna stay the night.” 
Leo isn’t sure what to say, so he says nothing. Tightening his hold around his brother and burying his face back into his side, not bothering to fight off the tears this time. 
Raph makes no comment about it, staying where he is and keeping a secure grip while Leo’s dam breaks. And he finds, in what can’t be more than 3 minutes later, Leo’s breathing is coming out in shallow even breaths and the crying has stopped. His body too tired to keep up and feeling too secure knowing one of his brothers was there with him, he’s out like a light. 
Raph himself is asleep by the time Splinter pokes his head in an hour later, content that all of his sons are getting rest, and are finally back on speaking terms. Wishing them a goodnight, though he knows they won’t hear it, he retreats to his own room to sleep, leaving none awake within the walls of the lair. 
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CHAPTER 6 (Final chapter) IS UP!!!!!!
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eternal-armin · 1 year
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angel of small death and the codeine scene.
after a few weeks of distance and silence, eddie talks to reader about what's been bothering them; and they end up confessing something they're very worried about. reader: transmasculine. cw: mentions of homophobia/transphobia, gender dysphoria. i've been questioning my gender again and this seemed like a good outlet to try and vocalize it so it's a little self-indulgent. i hope you like it anyway :>
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life is complicated. let's start there.
jobs are complicated, legal processes are complicated, school is complicated, family is complicated, friends are complimented—and for damn sure boyfriends are complicated.
honestly, the one thing you didn't expect to be complicated was yourself. you were yourself, man, how complex could you be?
oh how silly you were.
every single day, you felt a little bit different from the day before. some days you felt more feminine, other days way more masculine, and sometimes—kind of the majority of the time?—you felt more androgynous. somewhere between feminine and masculine, or even out of that binary entirely. you tried to placate this with different styles of clothes, different cuts, colors, layers, all that. you didn't have the guts to wear a skirt or 'typical girl clothes,' even when you felt like you would only be comfortable in that, because... well, 1980s indiana. you would be crucified.
maybe the worst part of it was that you didn't feel you could tell anyone. not robin, not steve, not nancy, not even eddie. you were dating him, you had been dating for months, and yet you just didn't have the guts to tell him. what a fucked-up little circle, huh? how would he feel? he was dating you, he was gay, and—would he still want to date you? even if you had your more feminine days?
sometimes it felt like you wouldn't mind being called someone's girlfriend. sometimes it felt like 'they' would be a nice way to refer to you. sometimes you hated it when people called you by your real name. but what were they supposed to call you?
you had no idea.
for the past few days, this was all that was on your mind. your grades were slipping a little and eddie was starting to notice how spaced out you were, all the time. at lunch, during class, hanging out between classes, while smoking in the janitor's closet. you were simply closed-off. and he wouldn't usually be concerned, even he had his standoffish streaks, but you told him everything. or you used to tell him everything. every day that passed where you said nothing was wrong, he got more and more worried.
it only takes so long before he needs to ask. and the drive home was one of those times. the van was parked next to his trailer. he turned down the music.
immediately, you were panicking. dry mouth, sandpaper throat, clammy hands, thumping heart. you knew exactly what was about to happen and you dearly wished it wouldn't.
"so, uh, i... i don't really—it's obvious. but i'm fuckin,' i'm worried about you." eddie first started speaking too fast, then too slow. he was still kind of new to initiating the concerned-boyfriend-talks, and it was awkward to him. it was endlessly awkward to you, too. "y-you, uhm, you've been distant. recently. and, like, that's fine! i get it, sometimes i get overwhelmed with me, too! that's cool, it's whatever, but i—if you wanna talk to me, i would be really... i wanna know what's going on. i wanna help you, if you need it. or if you want it. i-i mean, i'm your boyfriend. i would die for you. kill for you, but let's not talk about that."
that little bit of sarcasm made you chuckle. that lightened the mood by a pretty substantial amount. still, you felt panicked. a little voice in the back of your head kept saying that this was a bad idea. a very, very bad idea.
well, your mouth worked quicker than your mind sometimes.
"i'm sorry that i worried you," you began. that sentence alone made his concern sky-rocket, his brown eyes widening to the likeness of saucers. probably not the best way to start your confession. you reached over to hold his hand, a gesture quickly returned. he interlocked his fingers with yours. both of you were a little calmed. "it's just, uhm... internal stuff, i guess."
your voice was so soft. and it was trembling.
"i keep psyching myself out when i want to talk to you about it. it's—it's so dumb, but i always think you're gonna hate me for it."
of course he'll hate you. he isn't an angel.
eddie stared at you for a second. and when you looked back, you couldn't quite understand what that look was saying. if it was saying anything at all. "there is literally nothing in the world that could ever make me even mildly dislike you." he broke into a grin. "it's impossible."
well, that seemed decently true. you shared in his smile, and you felt a little less nervous. now there was a completely different hurdle; how could you describe something to him that you could barely understand yourself? you took a breath, hesitating to speak for another moment. eventually, though, you found some decent metaphor. "y'know those pendulums? the crystal ones you described during hellfire last week?"
"yeah—i have no clue how that's relevant."
"no, no, don't worry, i—it is. i just, uh..." you trailed off and cleared your throat. "i've been feeling like that. recently. and not really in my mood, i'm not having big ups and downs anymore, it's more, like... m-my identity, i guess." it was no surprise that half-formed thought completely confused your boyfriend. "like—like sometimes i feel how i normally do, i'm comfortable with my usual clothes, i don't mind being called by my birth name and shit like that. but sometimes i also really feel out of place in my body. y'know? like it's just kind of... wrong... i guess." even though you weren't done talking, your voice cracked. why the hell were you about to cry? what reason did you have?
he squeezed your hand, keeping you focused, and giving you a reassuring smile. with a little bit more confidence in your poorly-formed explanation, you summoned the courage to continue.
"i'm gonna try and be crude about it, i think. for both our sake's. rip the bandage off, right?" you forced out a wheezy chuckle. "i-i—it's just—sometimes i feel more like a... a-a girl, i guess. or at least more feminine. and sometimes i don't—i don't feel like either, any, at all. and i can never anticipate how i'm gonna feel and i never feel at home in this body anymore, and lord knows i don't have enough money for a new wardrobe—" you cut yourself off. your rambling was becoming frustrated; raising in volume, growing quicker in speed, fumbling as you spoke a mile a minute.
"hey, hey, it's okay, rockstar!" eddie let go of your hand for a second, and you were enveloped in a tight bear hug. the pressure therapy certainly helped bring you back to your senses, taking deep breaths of the open-windows fall air. you could feel the sunrays again. at least the sun wouldn't get in your eyes, not at this angle. "why would i hate you for this, man? uh—sorry, that, force of habit."
you chuckled a little, shaking your head slightly. "no, no, i don't mind. 'man' and 'dude' and 'bro' have become so gender-neutral." it was kind of incredible, how stuff like that tends to happen. "b-but—but you... you don't mind? y-you don't care?"
"i mean, of course i care, but i don't care, y'know? before—i really wanna say something, but i wanna make sure of some stuff." eddie pet your head, running his fingers over your hair. the rings were cold, not that you minded. "like, uh, what do you want me to refer to you as? my boyfriend, orrr...?"
you took a moment to think about it. the answer wasn't gonna be permanent, that was for sure. "u-uh, i'm not sure. i'm fine with that right now, but—i don't—it might not stay. like that, i mean."
"chill. yeah, that's fine, whatever. i'll try and find some, like, universal term." you felt a little guilty hearing him say that. eddie, researching? and not for a roleplay campaign? jeez, you should feel honored. but you just felt shitty, like somehow you had forced him to, and he hadn't wanted to do it himself. "d'you still wanna be called 'he?'"
"... same as... yeah, same as before."
eddie nodded. you could practically hear the gears in his head turning, processing the information, trying his damndest to commit it to memory. he couldn't bear the thought of accidentally making you uncomfortable. or feel un-listened to. was that even a word? well, it is now. "and—this is the most important question of all, so listen up—would you rather be called handsome, beautiful, pretty, cute, or hot?"
your muffled laughter against his shoulder meant the entire world. you felt that grin of his against your hair for the seconds until you stopped laughing. "i have no preference."
"good, because the only other option was gonna be 'i really wanna fuck you right now' and you'd hate me if i said that in public."
"you're damn right i would!" and though your words were dead serious, you still laughed right on through them. eddie joined in, holding you yet a bit closer, swaying like there wasn't an uncomfortable center console dividing you two like you were teens at a school dance.
you were beyond relieved. you'd spilled the very life-or-death beans and now here you were, bickering again about eddie's hopeless addiction to brazen and blatant sex jokes like nothing in the world could ever be wrong. you never had anything to worry about, and now, in retrospect, you felt a little foolish. but foolishness was tolerable, especially in comparison to that stomach-wrenching, heavy-like-tungsten anxiety about what could've happened. maybe there was a world where he would be disgusted or something.
but that was sure as hell not this one. and like hell you were gonna complain.
"when it comes to that wardrobe problem," he began. you knew that little sing-song quality to his voice, the way he hummed the words. you knew exactly what he was about to suggest, but he kept speaking before you could object. "i will gladly sponsor you, little one, your wish will be my command. as long as i get to be in the dressing room with you." both of you laughed at that very quick condition. you playfully punched his shoulder, and he fell back against his seat, clutching the spot.
"ack! he's got me! blood, blood, and death!" he went limp. somehow it was funnier that he was trying not to laugh, trying very hard not to laugh. his grin was practically ear to ear.
"i have slain thee, foul beast!" you proclaimed triumphantly. as the laughter died down, the smiles remained. your cheeks began to hurt a little. "you really don't have to do that, though, y'know."
"don't have to do—i want to do it, [y/n], and you are not talking yourself out of my shows of romance through capitalism."
you shook your head slightly. you recognized an unwinnable argument when you heard one. "okay. okay. and i will honor your condition as well." admittedly, a little grin was taking over your smile. you leaned against him, and the world was suddenly feeling a lot less complicated. maybe just because you knew you weren't going through anything alone anymore. now you could say, without hyperbole, that you trusted eddie munson with your life. was that a good thing or a bad thing? only time will tell.
"thank you for this, eds. thank you for everything."
as cliche as it was, you felt yourself tearing up, and your voice cracked. it was like you were right out of some cheesy romance novel or flick. except cheesy romance novels & flicks didn't have same-sex protagonists. oh well.
"oh, sweetheart!" he kissed your head over and over until he could peek you smiling again. "you don't gotta cry. it's basic human decency and compassion. i love ya, i'd never think for a second to abandon you for something like... y'know, yourself." you wouldn't expect this same level of compassion and care from anyone else in the world. maybe robin and steve would understand, but they wouldn't understand like eddie did. not even your parents would show you the same level of unconditional love.
maybe unconditional obsession? well, he was eddie, that kinda came with the territory.
"i love you too, eds. but don't you dare think i'm not gonna thank you, like, every day for the rest of our lives."
"every time you thank me, i'm gonna kiss you till you can't speak. or—better yet—until you can only say my very beautiful and manly name."
"i'll take you up on that."
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