#idk stumbled across this old sketch today ... not so bad!

[eightyuh]

my firebrand guardian asura pc from guild wars 2! ✨ she's magical girl themed hehe

[generallyclumsy]

Self Hatred

Requested by @shoochi

Connor Murphy x trans!reader (FtM)

Warning: Dysphoria, self hatred, cursing, a trans guy written by a cis woman, not very well written or edited, idk prolly more. If you need me to tag anything else just let me know.

Word Count: 1.2 thousand words?

A/N: this came out a lot more angsty than I mean for it to be but I hope the fluff that’s there is enough. I also tried really hard to make this as accurate as I could although I feel like it comes off a bit vague. Also proofing this I realized that like, I talk about the reader being trans but the way I wrote it pronouns never come up I’m so sorry. God. I hope this is what you wanted and that I wrote it ok.

Requests open!

***

You had seen Connor around, although you’d never talked to him outside of short conversations in English where the two of you would discuss politics or the homework neither of you did. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who talked much to anyone, so you always assumed you were no exception. You didn’t take it personally when you sat down and he didn’t even look up from his sketchbook, or when you’d say hi and he’s just “mmhmm” under his breath. But you did notice him.

You noticed the way he moved, the way he dressed, the way he kept himself, and you found yourself somewhat envious of his confidence, regardless of whether or not it was a farce. He moved in a way that was so careless and free, weighted down, but light, and the jealousy deemed itself natural.

But one day, a low day for you and a high day for your dysphoria, he said hello to you when you sat down at the table across from him. He wasn’t sketching today, but writing clumsily in a worn journal, his handwriting illegible from a normal angle, and completely impossible to read from upside down.

“Hi?” you responded, the tiniest bit startled, and very unsure of the circumstance for his alertness. Oh boy, was that a voice drop if you had ever heard one. He huffed a bit of a sarcastic laugh, and then closed his book.

“The fuck was the homework?” he asked, flipping through the copy of Hamlet that remained on his desk from yesterday.

“You think I did it?” You responded quickly, before pulling your English notebook out of your backpack and placing it on your desk.

“Kinda,” he said, his voice monotonous and his face emotionless.

“I had a bit of a thing going on yesterday.” You didn’t really enjoy going into detail about your mental state, or how inadequate you felt, but something funny happened when you said that; Connor, just for a split second, looked concerned.

“God, what a fucking mood.” You didn’t pay a lot of attention to the way he spoke, or the words he said, and instead found yourself trying to look less feminine to the friend you were beginning to enjoy being around.

“You good, man?” You asked and he snorted a tired, ironic laugh.

“Are you?” he gestured towards you with a long, slender hand. His voice had dropped a bit as he said it, and you found yourself trying to match it, only to disappoint yourself when you couldn’t.

“Fair enough,” you replied. As insecure as you were around him, you actually liked talking to Connor. He didn’t have an amazing reputation, and it most certainly preceded him, but the Connor you were talking to seemed just as crazy as everyone else. “Hey, Connor,” you said, before you could think about it. He looked back up at you from his book and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” he didn’t seem annoyed, which you deemed a good sign.

“God, um, it’s kind of stupid but like…” he laughed a little under his breath and (uncharacteristically) smiled a soft, bemused smile.

“Yes?” he encouraged

“You wanna hang out later?” he looked almost startled as you said it, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually want anything to do with him.

‘Uh, I mean,” he was stumbling over his words now, his usual confidence seemingly gone with just five words.

“It doesn’t have to be like a date or anything, I’m not even sure why I said it, nevermind.” He cocked his head at me and smiled.

“Sure, we can drive somewhere after school. Date or otherwise.” You nodded as he looked away from you again, and for a second, you forgot about how feminine and awful you felt that day because as crazy as people thought he was, you liked him and that made you feel some sort of way.

The rest of the day dragged on as you found yourself full of anxiousness in regards to your “date or otherwise.” Part of the anxiousness stemmed from your unsureness; of him and of yourself. Your feelings were a poker game, it was pure chance. Some days you radiate confidence, moved like you knew where you were going, and some days it was slouching because your chest wasn’t flat enough, lowering your voice every time you spoke and never feeling completely validated in yourself or your identity. But did Connor see it? He he notice you like you had noticed him? It didn’t seem like he did, God forbid he even knew your name, and there you were driving somewhere with him after school, and Goddamn if you didn’t forget to text your mom.

When the final bell rang you wondered towards the parking lot, not moving entirely slow, but not moving quickly either. He’s told you which spot he was parked in, and offered to meet you at his car, you agreed.

You still weren’t entirely sure what had possessed you to ask him out, or why you had done it so impulsively. Regardless, Connor received it a lot better than you thought he would. He agreed and now you got to go on a “date” with Connor from English, who threw a printer in the third grade, but always used the right pronouns. Hell, who even corrected someone with a classy “he did the first three slides.”

You found Connor leaning up against an old, beat up Nissan, his face pretty neutral until he saw you and smiled. Something about it felt wrong almost, like Connor Murphy shouldn’t be happy to see you. Maybe it was paranoia, bad luck, superstition, you couldn’t figure it out.

“Hi,” he said as you rounded the other side of the car.

“Hey,” you replied. “Where are we headed?”

The two of you ended up at a park around fifteen minutes from the high school. You had stopped at a gas station for coffee, which you’d covered because it made you feel good and he let you do it.

“So what’s your deal?” Connor asked as the two of you sat down on the swings next to each other, his hair falling in his face as he subtly swung.

“My deal?” he crossed his legs at the ankle.

“Nobody wants anything to do with me, and yet here you are, on a date with me. What’s wrong with you?” You were taken aback, both by the use of the word date and the question as a whole.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You tossed back. He snorted.

“So you just have no self respect,” he nodded. You shrugged as you fell quiet. “You know, you should give yourself more credit,” he added.

“You should to.” You looked over to him as he looked away from you. “You’re more than what people say about you,” he smiled a toothy smile, his eyes crinkled.

“Y/N, you’re the only person around here who treats me like I’m human.” his hand dropped down from where it had been perched on the swing chain and brushed against yours.

“Do you ever feel like your self hatred is so deeply ingrained that you don’t deserve happiness?” His pinky linked with yours as you said it.

“All the fucking time,” he looked sad now, less happy and sarcastic than he had been.

“I guess we aren’t so different after all.”

“You know that you shouldn’t though, right?” I took his whole hand in mine. “You shouldn’t hate yourself.”

“Ditto.” Then his phone started going off in his pocket, and I quickly let go of his hand so he could answer it.

He talked a few minutes, his responses simple and concise before he hung up and stood up. I looked up at him. “What’s going on?”

“I gotta take you home, I forgot to get Zoe from Jazz Band and my parents are fucking fuming.” I stood up with a short nod, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Ok,” he smiled as we reached the park gate.

“But we’ll be going out again,” he said with a confident smirk. “That is, if you’ll have me.”