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tired-teddybear · 1 year

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modern trans steddie au where eddie is stealth among the Party, only wayne and corroded coffin know he’s trans. also there’s no upside down & they’re both in high school (16/17)

so one day he’s at steve’s (just the two of them, which has been happening more often lately much to eddie’s surprise and delight) and his ribs start to ache and it gets hard to breathe and shit he’s been binding for too long.

eddie attempts to leave, just wants to go home and take a binding break and wear his dysphoria hoodie for the rest of the day, but steve has already noticed that he’s in pain and no way in hell is steve letting eddie drive when all he can do is clutch at his sides and wheeze.

eddie figures shit, this is it i guess when steve asks what’s wrong. his brow is wrinkled in concern and he’s biting at his nail, trying find any visible injuries on eddie and eddie can’t take it anymore so he just blurts out “my ribs hurt.”

steve pauses, searching his face for something before nodding and sitting on the couch next to him.

“any, uh. particular reason for that?” steve asks hesitantly, messing with the hem of his shirt now.

eddie closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, mentally preparing to either lose one of his best friends or explain a lot of stuff. he doesn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet so he says, through clenched teeth, “i’ve been binding for too long.”

what eddie doesn’t expect is the silence, and he opens an eye to see steve blinking at him, mouth hung open in shock. eddie sighs, getting ready to explain what binding is and why he does it when steve lets out a somewhat strangled laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth.

eddie doesn’t know if he should be offended or not but then steve shakes his head and asks “how long?”

eddie blinks at him. how long…?

steve clarifies, “how long have you worn your binder today?”

eddie, confused beyond belief, simply tells him “ten hours,” and watches as steve’s face scrunches with worry.

“okay,” steve says, getting up and pulling eddie with him, “you’re changing.”

eddie can’t do anything but follow steve to his room and watch as he digs through his closet before holding up a big hoodie triumphantly. steve walks over, dumps the hoodie in eddie’s arms and says “no more binding today,” before leaving and closing the door behind him.

eddie decides he might as well listen to steve and changes, thankful he wore sweats instead of his usual skinny jeans. the hoodie is big, and a deep navy blue with ‘Hawkins Swim Team’ printed on the front. eddie turns to leave but first catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, specifically… he turns around again and yup, that’s ‘Harrington’ on the back. eddie thinks he might pass out, and not just from overbinding.

eddie can tell he’s blushing when he leaves the room but can’t do anything about it so he fights to urge to just run away and finds steve in the living room. steve looks up at eddie when he walks in and eddie can’t tell if it’s his imagination or if steve is actually blushing at the sight of eddie in his clothes.

steve coughs and averts his eyes, asking “do you feel better?”

eddie smiles hesitantly and sits next to him on the couch.

“yeah, thanks for that,” he replies, fidgeting before continuing, “look i don’t know if you don’t get it or you just don’t care or something but just please don’t tell anyone-”

steve cuts him off, eyes wide and a hand resting on eddie’s shoulder.

“eddie, hey. i would never do that. i swear on my life,” steve meets his gaze and eddie can’t help but believe him. at eddie’s nod steve slumps in relief, the hand still on eddie’s shoulder squeezing in reassurance before letting go.

“so,” eddie starts, feeling steve turn towards him to show he’s paying attention.

“so,” steve parrots, prompting him, and eddie rolls his eyes fondly.

“so, i’m trans. obviously. well, i think obviously. cuz you’re handling this shockingly well so i’m not sure if you’re actually supportive or just really stupid,” steve makes an offended-sounding squawk and eddie grins, “but i appreciate it either way.”

when steve doesn’t respond (again) eddie turns to find him smiling brilliantly at eddie, dimples showing and eyes sparkling, stealing eddie’s breath.

“what?” he asks, dumbfounded.

steve giggles, fucking giggles, and starts pulling his shirt off. eddie chokes on air and is startled into a coughing fit, fucking shit steve is gonna kill him one day, and next thing he knows steve is standing in front of him and handing him a glass of water. eddie downs it gratefully, opening his eyes to see steve standing in front of him still shirtless and eddie can’t help but admire the view before he sees the top surgery scars and realizes what steve was trying to tell him.

eddie can’t help but gape and meet steve’s eyes, who begins laughing even harder at the look eddie gives him.

“you? you, King Steve, prince of Hawkins High, are trans??” eddie exclaims. his worldview is shattering for a second time (both times because of one steve harrington) and he needs a moment to adjust.

steve just nods and continues laughing, managing to say, “what cis guy chooses the nickname King Steve?” before collapsing onto the couch in giggles

eddie can’t help but roll his eyes fondly and poke at steve’s chest.

“you,” he declares, “are an asshole.”

steve makes a mock-wounded noise and drapes himself over eddie’s lap dramatically, clutching his at heart.

“you wound me,” he replies, staring up at eddie. their eyes meet, and eddie feels trapped in steve’s gaze, his heartbeat stuttering when steve tucks a lock of hair behind eddie’s ear.

a moment later steve looks away, face dusted a light pink, and continues, “i didn’t know you were too until just now- otherwise i would’ve told you, promise.”

eddie trusts steve, and knows he’s telling the truth. he chews on his bottom lip a moment, contemplating, before cupping the side of steve’s face with his hand. steve’s eyes flicker to his, a question in them, and this time eddie knows the answer.

“i’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” eddie asks, smiling wide when steve nods emphatically and tucks his hand onto the back of eddie’s neck to pull him down.

the kiss is short and sweet, interrupted by smiles and laughter, and made worse by the awkward position, but eddie wouldn’t change it for the world.

when he pulls back steve is beaming and before eddie say anything else he blurts out, “be my boyfriend?”

eddie stares at him for a second before snorting and lowering his head to laugh into steve’s chest. when he looks up again to see steve’s pout he smiles softly and says, “of course, dumbass.”

when steve’s grin returns, eddie thinks it might be his favorite sight in the whole world.

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tam-shade-song · 1 month

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Platonic SoTam Band AU, anyone?

Tam laid on the bed with his finger intertwined on his stomach, the notebook beside him long since discarded. The top of his head was pressed against the outside of Sophi’s thigh as they sat upside down on the bed, their blond hair pooling on the floor below them like a river of gold.

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. Sophi, oblivious to his anxiety, hummed the melody to the bridge of the new song they were working on. Or at least they were. The two had long since gotten distracted, and conversation had turned into peaceful silence.But the atmosphere had started to shift from serenity to nervousness, and even Sophi had become aware.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” Tam asked his voice low. He pictured the sold-out concerts, the tours, all of their friends together, just them.

“Make it to what?”Sophi asked. “Adulthood?Graduation?” Looking back, it was really horrible that someone like Sophi should even have been concerned, but all honors classes didn’t mean much when it comes to the crushing reality of their situation.

Tam had been expelled from middle school, and had come to Foxfire looking for a fresh start. Sophi was a foster kid who had just been separated from the family she had known all their life. No matter the amount of As on their report card, it didn’t lift the heaviness from their shoulders, and mental health problems wasn’t something just left at the door.

Tam supposed that was why they found so much comfort in each other. Two trans kids in public school, two kids who felt like they were losing their minds. Even Tam didn’t feel the same with his twin sister, who at the end of the day would never understand the way he avoided mirrors and tight fitting shirts.

“I mean as musicians,” Tam said. Sophi snorted the lifted their hand. Tam pulled them up until they were both sitting crossed-legged on the bed facing each other.

“Yeah, I think so, Tam,” Sophi said. “Once Forkle finishes the papers and I’m officially a Ruewen, what’s going to stop us? Once we get you the hell out of that house, we’re free.”

“That does mean people will like our stuff,” Tam said. He fidgeted with his shirt, and pulled it forward. “No one likes us,” he added.

“I like us,” Sophie said. They had a wrinkle in between their brows with proved to Tam that they had the same fears and was just trying to hide it. “Linh likes us, Fitz likes us, Dex, Biana, Keefe-“

“Keefe doesn’t like me,” Tam rolled his eyes. “And that’s what I mean. I don’t doubt our music or our lyrics or even getting our shit out there. What if people just don’t like us for who we are?”

“Tam,” Sophi scolded. “Keefe does not… dislike you, one, and two, who gives a damn. I’m here for the people who will like us. Didn’t we think there was something wrong with us? Don’t we owe it to the kids who are like us? And don’t we owe it to our families? Do you want a boring ass day job you’ll hate, Tam? Or do you want to just be a fucking camp counselor forever? This is what we can do, to make our existence on this fucked up hell hole worth it.”

Tam sighed. And nodded. Then he picked up the guitar he had set on the floor and strummed a chord to make sure it was still in tune.

“Alright, then,” he said. “Let’s get to work.” The skin on Tam’s fingers was threatening to split as the already tender blisters were pressed against the wires, but he ignored it.

He only focused on the dream, the one thing left in the world, with the exception of his sister and Sophi, that he could still believe in.

———————————————————————

Tam pulled the bandaids off his sore fingers, and shook out his hands. Even after two years, he still got anxiety from concerts. Hell, even playing for anyone outside the band made him nervous.

“Tam, let me get a picture,” Biana said. Her glittery pink hijab reflected the light and made little sparkles on Tam’s shirt. “Get your bass.” The social medias manager made Tam take a few pictures before moving onto the other band members. “Good luck, Song.”

“You too,” Tam called over his shoulder. Biana had a way of putting everyone at ease, something Tam appreciated.

Tam took the roll of tape from his bag, and walked to the bathroom. Once the door was locked behind him, he started wrapping Rayni’s old lacrosse tape around his chest. At one concert, there would be dozens of photos, and Tam wouldn’t risk anyone noticing his chest or seeing the strap of his black binder.

There was a ding from his phone, and Tam went to check it. He inhaled as deeply as he could with the sticky tape would allow. It pulled at his skin, but he ignored it.

Don’t wear your binder, you’ll need to breathe. The message read, from Rayni. Tam sighed, and didn’t give a response.

Tam used to be afraid of his father, he used to be afraid of having to get an office job he would hate. Now he was afraid someone would find out he was trans. As soon as he turned eighteen he got his name changed, and before that he had done everything possible to stay out of the spotlight. It had been real shitty to watch everyone preform the song he wrote with Sophi, and to only exist behind a black medical mask or as a prerecorded bass riff. Now, he would everything in his power to make sure he never had to live in the shadows again.

Tam walked out of the bathroom, phone in hand. Outside Sophi tossed him a bottle of water.

“Here,” they said. They wore the same anxious expression Tam remembered from the day they first came into his homeroom. They still felt they owed the world everything, all the other kids with no homes.

“Let’s go,” Tam said. Fitz, the band manager, gave them the signal to go out.

Dex, Linh, Sophi, Tam and Keefe took their places on stage. Slowly, trying to hide his fear as much as possible, Tam started the song, ignoring the pain in his fingers and chest. Sophi took up the mic and began singing.

It was a song about acceptance, responsibility and faith. Wikipedia said the writer of the song was Tam Dai Tong, stage name Tam Song. But really, the song never would have existed if not for Sophi. Not just because the song was a narration of their life, but because without them Tam wouldn’t have been Tam Song in the first place. He never would have been able to live to be true to himself.

The tape around his chest made it hard to breathe, but he played on, growing increasingly light headed.

———————————————————————

Nine months and two singles later, Tam stared at the roll of pink tape in front of him. It hurt to breathe sometimes now. After a performance or rehearsal Tam’s back ached when he breathed heavily. Rayni freaked when she found out, the band’s photographer tried to drag Tam to a doctor then and there.

“You need to take care of yourself,” she stressed. “I know you’re trying to be true to yourself but your body won’t last this way.”

Tam had tried not to roll his eyes. He really had. Maybe he would have tried harder had he known what kind of face Rayni would make. He expected anger, not sadness. Seeing it made his fury rise, and tears also.

He went to Sophi, like always. He didn’t want to burden Linh with his problems, and because he was pissed at Rayni, she was out of the question. That left Sophi.

Over a call, one that Tam was barely paying attention too, Sophi irritably snapped at him, “You bitch about being true to yourself but your body is a part of you too. You can talk all you want about honesty, but you’re just a liar.”

Tam had stared at the blank screen.

And now he was there. In the bathroom, staring at a roll of tape. He cast it away from himself.

The bassist waited for Biana to make her rounds, foot tapping anxiously. Keefe snapped at him when he stared pacing.

“What don’t we know, Bangs Boy?” Keefe asked, ever the detective. Tam scoffed.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” Tam said. Wylie, the technical worker who did the lights, laughed. Stina, the stylist was pinning Keefe’s shirt raised a brow.

“Is this about…” she didn’t finish her question when Tam silenced her with a look. Linh probably told her everything, but even if she hadn’t there was a possibility she had come to her own, incorrect, conclusion.

Biana and Rayni were talking about posting pictures, but Rayni looked up and smiled.

Sophi just raised a brow knowingly.

The players filed out onto stage.

When the same song from the last concert played, Tam’s heart sped up. He could back out, and no one would know, except Rayni, Linh, and Sophi. Maybe some people would notice how his chest wasn’t as flat and they’d come to their own conclusion.

The song was almost up.

Tam broke a nail playing a chord, and it only made his nerves worsen.

When the song ended, Sophi searched through the crowd. Openly nonbinary, they made it a tradition to find someone in the audience with their flag and hand them a little trans or nonbinary flag or pin. When they found who they jokingly refured to as their “victim” they beckoned them closer and took a pin off their own shirt to hand to the audience member.

The crowd cheered. When Tam stepped forward, all he could do was hope the anxiety didn’t show on his face as he took the flag he had asked Stina to stitch for him out of scrap fabric, and waved it over his head.

He was trembling and his palms were sweating, but the transmasc flag waved proudly above his head, and he actually smiled. With tears at the corners of his eyes he walked towards the edge of the stage and searched the crowd. With raised hands there was a young kid, around fourteen, with a make shift he/him pin mad with the trans flag on graph paper.

Reaching so far he had to strain, Tam got it into the boy’s hand.

Sophi tossed Tam a mic, that he fumbled and dropped with quickly picked up. Clearing his throat, Tam tried to keep his voice steady as he said, “We won’t live in the shadows anymore.”

Tam laughed, pretended not to notice how his voice cracked and handed the mic back to Sophi. A new song played, with heavy bass and drums.

When it came for his part, the others got quiet while the bass riff was played, before coming back in.

#tw unsafe binding #platonic sotam #kotlc #kotlc fandom #kotlc headcanons #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc tam #not your shade pet #kotlc thoughts #kotlc fanart #sophie foster #kotlc sophie

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vintagesweatersnchocolate · 7 months

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dude’s really living all the quintessential trans experiences in this fic i’m reading

#remus lupin #rj lupin #trans remus lupin #ao3 fanfic #boys will be bugs #binder #marauders #tw unsafe binding #bind safely #pls #trans

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thelunarsystemwrites · 2 months

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Damn it...

#They're not even mad abt it #Just annoyed #Lua keeps falling asleep in their binder #Sweatshirt helps with dysphoria #tw gender dysphoria #Tw unsafe binding #Lunarsona

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pro-crastinate17 · 2 months

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i. should probably unbind (currently wearing 2 binders and a sports bra, which ive been doing since uh. roughly 7am lol

#tw unsafe binding #dumbass complains tag #words from my weird little brain #about 10 1/2 hours. i make good decisions :thumbsup: /s #in my defense. i forgor

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frog-sorta-speaks · 8 months

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Frog has be bind unsafe for lot time (dysphoria and safety and forget take off) and am feel the consequence of. It hurt so bad but is own fault and will just make worse because no can stop do it. So so ow

#trans #frog croaks #tw unsafe binding

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mxstxcwxsdxm · 2 years

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TW: unsafe chest binding

transmasc enj, for barricade day <3

#les miserables #les mis #enjolras #barricade day #les amis de l'abc #les amis #enjoltaire #trans enjolras #fanart #musicals #broadway #west end #lgbtq #trans #tw: unsafe binding #please do not bind like this guys pls

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momthesearemydinnerguests · 2 years

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"I'm right here, baby. Just breathe."

Dwayne x Trans masc reader. Hurt/Comfort. You have a dysphoria-induced anxiety attack at the boardwalk, and Dwayne stays back to comfort you.

Word Count: 1,054

TW: descriptions of gender dysphoria, body dysphoria, anxiety attack, unsafe binding practices, tobacco smoking

__________

You've been hanging out at the boardwalk with the boys again, as has become your Saturday tradition. You were already pretty blazed when you got to the boardwalk, and you’re feeling pretty good. Dizzy in the good way, the way that makes you feel light. The smoke doesn’t dull your senses (if anything, colors are actually brighter and sounds are clearer), but there’s a haze between you and them and you are floating above it peacefully. You and Marko are sharing a cotton candy bigger than your head, taking turns picking pieces off and throwing them at the back of Paul’s head, and Dwayne has his arm around your waist. Occasionally leans over to nip at your ears or neck when he thinks no one is looking. You’re following the sounds of the calliope toward the carousel at the far end of the boardwalk, hellbent on getting the most out of your money before security throws you out again, when it hits.

You’re not even sure what triggers it. Maybe it’s the way the bandage around your ribs rubs against your Iron Maiden shirt just wrong, or the way your own laughter sounds compared to the other boys, but suddenly you’re painfully aware of your own body. Of all the ways it falls short. The roundness in your cheeks, the fact that you’re almost a head shorter than everyone else here even with your platforms. Your chest begins to itch and get that plasticy feeling, like a cheap Halloween costume you can’t take off. You try to ignore it as long as you can. Try to focus on the conversations going on around you.

Dwayne must feel your shoulders sink slightly, though, because he tightens his hold on you ever so slightly and slows his pace to create some distance between you and the others. You lean into him slightly for comfort. As you start to Paul turns around to face you guys, walking backward without breaking his stride, giving you a mischievous smirk. “Yo, slowpokes. What’s the holdup? I wanna grab a bite before this place shuts down.”

Before David can tell him to be patient, Marko joins in. “Yeah, you lovebirds got somewhere else to be or something?”

“Yeah,” you pipe up, matching his smile and kicking a discarded cup in his direction. The bravado does a decent job at masking your discomfort. “Away from you idiots.”

Dwayne laughs a little at the salt in your voice and waves the others off. “We’ll catch up with you guys. Don’t worry, Pauly, I’ll take good care of him.” He gives Paul a suggestive wink, who nods his respect before pulling Marko into a headlock and dragging him ahead. Once you’re alone, Dwayne pulls you into a quiet spot next to one of the closed food shacks. “You good, baby?”

You start to say you’re fine, not to worry, but now that you’re alone the words stick in your throat. You shake your head and sink to the ground against the wall, picking nervously at the mesh sleeves poking out from under your T-shirt. For all your attempts to stifle it, your heart rate is increasing fast. The sounds of the boardwalk cut through the haze in your brain, louder and sharper because of the anxiety building in your chest, and it feels like walls closing in around you so you can’t breathe. Before you can stop them, your eyes feel with tears. And then you feel stupid for crying, so you angrily brush them away, but that only makes them fall faster. You start to pound at your knee in frustration, but Dwayne catches your hands and pulls you closer.

“Shh… It’s okay, baby. I’m right here. Just breathe. In four, hold four, out four, right?” He scoots over to sit next to you, wrapping a gentle arm around your shoulders but still trying to give you space to breathe. He touches your chest gently above your T-shirt, asking for your consent, before slipping his hand up under it and the bandage. You cringe a little as his fingers brush your breast, but the distance he creates between it and your chest does make it easier to breathe. “1…2…3…” You grip the lapels of his faded motorcycle jacket and squeeze your eyes closed, trying to focus on breathing along with his counts.

Slowly, ever so slowly, your breathing begins to even out again and eventually your heart rate decreases. Not back to its normal resting pace, not yet, but at least it isn’t threatening to jump right out of your mouth. You finally release your stranglehold on Dwayne’s jacket and your shaking hand wordlessly grabs for the cigarette tucked behind your ear. He lights it for you, and the two of you just sit in silence for a few moments while you let the nicotine work its magic. When you finally look back up at him, his brow is furrowed with concern and you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to work out what went wrong. You immediately feel guilty for worrying him, and look down in shame. “I’m sorry for ruining the night.”

“Hey.” You feel his firm hand on your chin, urging you to look up at him. You hesitate, but obey. He looks deep into your eyes and wipes your tears away. “ “I’m a big boy. No one ruins my night except me, got it?”

“But-” The stern look he gives you kills the protest in your throat. After a second you nod. “Okay. If you say so.”

“There’s my good boy.” He leans forward to give you a quick kiss and then pulls you to your feet. “Now… you wanna go home?”

You shake your head. “No, that’s okay. Let’s find the others.”

Before he has a chance to ask if you’re sure, you start walking ahead. The anxiety is still there. The dysphoria still sits in the hollow place between your ribs, gnawing at you like an animal caught in a trap, but it’s quieter now, drowned out by Dwayne’s words echoing in your head. “My good boy.” My good boy. My good boy. You’ll wear those words like armor for the rest of the night, and whenever that animal gets too loud, you’ll lean over and ask him to say it again.

#the lost boys 1987 #lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #lost boys imagine #dwayne x trans reader #tw: dysphoria #tw: dysmorphia #tw: smoking #tw: unsafe binding #dwayne imagine

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