#trans!fitz

Fitz was supposed to be the Vacker's perfect daughter. He was supposed to grow up to be what Alvar couldn't have been. His parents had always wanted a daughter, and who was he to disappoint them? And so he delayed his transitioning and his coming out, even to himself, and he let himself get cloaked in the femininity and the womanhood that everyone expected of him, until it became too much and he wanted to tear off his skin whenever he looked at himself in the mirror because I don't want to look like a girl, I don't want to be a girl, I'd rather die than be a girl anymore.

And so Fitz Vacker resorted to being the perfect son, overworking himself until he collapsed on the floor of his bedroom from exhaustion, unable to move. But he could never be, because he wasn't their true son. He'd always be the boy who wasn't a boy, the boy who could never be a son because that wasn't how he was born and raised.

Fitz was shunted and punished by the family, subtly enough that those who supported him wouldn't notice, but not subtly enough that Biana, with her sharp eyes and her ability to hide where she wasn't noticed, wouldn't know. And so the role of "perfect son" went to Biana. But Biana had always had just that little bit more confidence than Fitz, and so she'd come out to herself long before the dysphoria made her whole body itch and hurt.

And now her parents had the daughter they’d always wanted. But she was far from perfect. She wasn’t nearly as perfect as Fitz was, with his friends and his grades and the elves who stared and blushed and giggled in the hallways. Biana didn’t have any of that, and nor did she want it, even without knowing what came with it; the loss of everything you care for, the leaving of your friends, the crying when you think no one can hear you, the empty seat during meals because you’re too busy studying for the test you have to pass or you’ll be shunned.

Fitz was supposed to be the perfect daughter. Biana was supposed to be the perfect son.

But neither of them could be perfect. Not when they’d chosen paths that defied their family’s wishes, not when they’d chosen paths that benefitted no one but themselves.

For a normal family, that was a price they’d be willing to pay. And perhaps the paths would merge.

it would super interesting to see a multiple birth in the vacker family though 👀 i wonder how everyone would react

but also yes trans!fitz with twin biana and she helps teach him different makeup techniques to make him look more masculine to help with dysphoria. and and they go to slurps and burps once he wants to so that they can get him an elixir to help with hormones 🥰

Y E A H

Okay so I don't think Fitz would have chosen that name on his own so I'm just gonna go with Fitz and Biana are both trans and they traded names

Fitz pretty stubbornly refused to present femme as a kid, so when he started going to the forbidden cities he was almost always perceived as a boy

And he had the realization: "I like people thinking I'm a boy!"

Which led him to the conclusion "I am a boy."

He came out to Biana first, who then realized that if Fitz wanting to be a boy made him a boy, then her wanting to be a girl made her a girl

They came out to Della together, and she helped them come out to Alden

Alden was Not Happy about it but he mostly thought Fitz was just going through a tomboy phase and rolled with it

Fuck Alden, he didn't let Fitz get blockers either

Fitz learned about binding from Keefe (who learned about it from Elwin) so he did that a lot

Fitz and Biana have frequent discussions on how inconvenient it is that Fitz can't just. Donate his tiddies to her.

When Fitz first manifested as a telepath, he had a habit of reading Alden's mind until Alden misgendered him or Biana, and then transmitted the correct pronoun really loudly

Alden hated it. Della found it hilarious.

When Alden's mind broke in Exile, Fitz was upset but also kinda relieved because Alden was a shithead? But then he felt guilty for being relieved and yeah that was a fun time

He came out to Sophie when they started cognate training and Sophie was pretty chill about it.

Actually Dex calling Fitz "wonderboy" was incredibly validating

So the first time Dex called him wonderboy to his face, Fitz just got really happy

And Dex was like "what the fuck dude, that was supposed to be an insult."

"Yeah... but you called me a boy!!!"

This wasn’t the first time they’ve all been in the same bed - there had been long missions and late-night brainstorming and night terrors that had brought them to fall asleep in each other’s arms - but it was the first time they’d all landed there after a date.

“Daisy,” Fitz murmured. His lips traced her neck while Jemma kissed her mouth. Daisy both moaned and laughed at the sound of the nerves in his voice.

“I swear on everything holy, Fitz,” she breathed into Jemma’s mouth. “May I?” she whispered, her fingers on the buttons of Jemma’s shirt.

“Yes please,” Jemma said. They both glanced at Fitz. He paused with his fingers caught up in Daisy’s hair.

“If you both want -”

“Fitz,” Daisy groaned with another laugh. She brought her lips back to Jemma’s with fresh urgency as she started working her out of her blouse. “If you tell me one more time,” she said between kisses, “that there’s no pressure to do anything I don’t want to, Jemma and I are going to kick you out and we’re going to cross this event horizon on our own.”

“Oh, well, yes, I mean, of course that’s okay -”

“Fitz!” Jemma and Daisy laughed and rolled their eyes at the same time. 

“Fitz, look at me.” Jemma took his face into her hands. “I love you. I am going to feel nothing but that love and compersion watching you and Daisy make love to each other, and to me. And if something other than being completely turned on and happy comes up for me, I’ll tell you both. And I expect the same communication from both of you.”

Jemma looked at both of her partners in turn. They nodded like slightly chastened school children.

“Good. Now.” Jemma licked her lips and brought her forehead to Fitz’s. “Do you want this, Fitz? It’s alright if you don’t, or if you’re not in the mood or not ready -”

“I do, no, yes, I am absolutely ready, definitely in the mood, I just want to make sure that you two -”

“And Daisy, you’re all good?”

“Definitely, yes.”

“So then?”

“So then I would very much like to cross our event horizon together, please.”

Jemma and Daisy smiled. Daisy bit her lip.

Fitz’s eyes flashed, finally letting himself smile, too.

“Daisy,” he said. “I um. I think you were busy with something, before I interrupted. Do you want some help?”

“Do I want help taking Jemma’s clothes off?” Daisy tilted her head, letting her eyes trace slowly - very, very slowly - up and down Jemma’s body. “Yeah, I think some help would be nice. Jemma, you still good?”

Jemma kissed her in answer. They’d talked - at length - about exactly how she liked to be touched, how they all liked to be touched. And it was like Daisy had studied a manual.

Daisy dropped to her knees to tease off Jemma’s jeans while Fitz kissed the nape of her neck. When Daisy’s lips found her bare stomach, Jemma whimpered. When Daisy chuckled into her skin, her fingers found themselves wrapped in Daisy’s hair. 

That was something else they’d discussed, but at Daisy’s sharp gasp, Jemma and Fitz both froze.

“Too hard?” Jemma asked.

“No, that, no, that was a good sound. Definitely a good sound.”

“Excellent,” Fitz murmured. He stepped back for a moment, his hands still on Jemma’s hips. All he could hear were Jemma’s soft groans and Daisy’s ragged breaths, and his brain needed a moment.

“Fitz?” Jemma turned, dazed, and reached for him. Daisy stood and moved to sit all three of them on the bed. She straddled Jemma, but mostly - in that moment - so they could all be as close together as possible.

“I’m good, no, I’m good. Just.” Fitz didn’t know how to explain. He just took both of their hands, and kissed their knuckles in turn.

“Just hard to process,” Jemma said. “No matter how much we’ve talked it through, it’s difficult to comprehend actually making love with the two people you share your soul with, watching the two people who mean the most to you in the universe give each other so much pleasure, knowing that you get to be a part of that love, that pleasure?”

Daisy and Fitz both looked slack-jawed at Jemma, who scoffed. “What? I can talk about emotions.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, but that was all poetic and shit, Jemma,” Daisy said. 

A pause. Then Fitz giggled. And Jemma giggled. And Daisy giggled.

Which, naturally, turned into tickling. Which, naturally, ended with Daisy straddling Fitz, holding his hands above his head to prevent him from tickling her. Jemma lied next to him, half turned so she could stare up at Daisy and across at Fitz in the same moment.

Fitz looked up at Daisy, his lips still frozen in a laugh. 

“You’re beautiful, Daisy.”

“So are you. Handsome, beautiful, sexy. All the adjectives.”

She held him down with one hand while she kissed him, her other bracing herself on the bed. Jemma kissed her way up and down Daisy’s arm, her shoulder, and Daisy never would have thought that would be particularly sexy, but God, God, it was.

“Daisy,” Fitz whispered, and the sound was right next to Jemma’s hitched breath as one of the sexiest things Daisy had ever heard. “Can I touch you?”

Daisy answered by shifting her hand off of his instantly. His were warm and soft on her stomach, her hips, her sides, her breasts. His left shook, slightly, slightly, and she shifted to kiss his wrist.

Jemma noticed - of course Jemma noticed - and she brought her lips to Fitz’s to soothe him, to remind him, to steady him.

Daisy didn’t bother stifling a groan as their kiss got deeper. She’d spent years seeing Jemma kiss Fitz, Fitz kiss Jemma, feeling an increasingly powerful combination of genuine happiness and sweet, sweet longing. She’d spent years keeping that longing to herself. 

She didn’t have to anymore. She relished the way her whimpering made Jemma kiss him harder, made Jemma sweep her hair away from her neck, inviting Daisy could kiss her there.

Her fingers found Jemma’s hair, Fitz’s cheek. Fitz’s hand, Jemma’s breasts. The buttons of Fitz’s shirt. The zip on his pants.

When Jemma shifted her lips to Fitz’s neck so Daisy could kiss his mouth, she tasted Jemma on his tongue and relished the way he moaned softly into her. When Jemma shrugged out of her bra and brought Daisy’s hand to her; when Fitz whispered, “go ahead, Daisy,” in her ear; when Jemma immediately tugged at Daisy’s hair and pulled her closer the moment Daisy’s lips touched her nipple; Daisy never thought her heart could pound so loud.

When Fitz knelt on the bed in front of them both, and Daisy asked if she could take his shirt off; when he shrugged out of it himself and stared at her, eyes wide and a little scared; when Daisy kissed his mouth and then his eyes and traced soft kisses all along his top surgery scars; when she whispered that she’d never imagined a rocket scientist could be so sexy, the way he kissed her back made her certain she would never be the same.

When Daisy laid Jemma down and kissed her way up her thighs, and Fitz held her hand while both he and Jemma tangled their fingers into her hair, because she’d asked, and they’d talked; when she could come completely undone, now, from the sheer sensation of it all, Daisy knew that nothing would ever taste as divine as Jemma did when she came in her mouth.

[Ft. McGonagall here]

Underage wizards weren’t allowed to use magic outside of school grounds.

And Leo Fitz was underage, sure, but he was definitely a wizard, not a Squib and not a witch. (There’s nothing wrong with being a Squib or a witch, he’d scrawled in his journal, sideways and scrappy alongside his endless notes on wand theory. I’m just not either of those things, no matter what Father says.)

He checked again for the Hogwarts letter in his back pocket - he’d kept it close just in case someone at the gates of the castle believed his father, believed that he wasn’t worthy of studying at such a fine institution. He took comfort in the weight of it, the thickness of the parchment, the way that the letter had said “Mr. Fitz,” like somehow at the castle, they already knew. 

He hoped the letter itself wasn’t an elaborate plot to humiliate him. That always seemed possible, with his father.

But here he was anyway, on the Hogwarts Express. Leaving London and leaving his father, finally, in search of freedom at the castle he’d always longed to see.

Other students, even first years like him, were tracking through the corridors, casting little spells with their wands as they dodged each other and tried not to slam into the snack trolley.

But he couldn’t do what they were doing - he couldn’t risk casting a spell outside of school. What if he got caught and somehow Father found out? He could not risk giving anyone an excuse to take him away from Hogwarts before he even had the chance to bring his trunk off the train. 

So he kept his wand in his pocket, and brought out a pair of scissors instead. He’d worked hard to find an empty compartment, and as he settled in, his heart raced. He fogged the window with his breath and polishes it with the edge of his sleeve. Even that little motion screamed of a rebellion that Father would never approve of. 

He stared at his reflection, squinting just right so he could focus on his own face as the countryside speeds by. He took a deep breath and raised shaking fingers to his ponytail. He raised the scissors, opened them, and slowly started to close them around his hair.

“Excuse me,” a voice called as the compartment door slides open. “Can my friend and I sit in here? She’s had a run in with Grant Ward, and landed quite an impressive hex on him, but her bad girl shenanegins can get her into quite a bit of trouble if -- oh, are you cutting your hair?”

The girl was balancing at least six textbooks in her arms. The girl’s friend -- the one who had hexed the infamous Slytherin, apparently -- poked her head in behind Book Girl, feigning guilt but looking pretty pleased with herself. He watched her assess him as he slid a Muggle cell phone into her pocket.

“Oh, um. Yes.” He tried to deepen his voice as much as he could. But all he could hear was squeaking. He prepared himself for these girls to laugh and laugh and laugh at him, to point and giggle and torment and --

“What’s your name?” the girl’s friend asked. Her American accent surprised him, but she plopped down next to him like she didn’t have a care in the world. “I’m Skye.”

“Um, Fitz. Um, Leo. Leo Fitz.”

His stomach swirled with terror -- this was the first time the name had left his lips to another human being, and anything could happen now. Especially since this Skye girl was apparently good at casting hexes.

“Nice to meet you, Leo Fitz.” The girl with all the books tried to shake his hand, promptly spilling the books out of her arms. Skye caught them easily, chuckling -- but not, Fitz noted, laughing at the other girl -- as she rearranged them next to her. 

He shook the girl’s hand wordlessly. “I’m Jemma. Jemma Simmons. And I’m sure you know what you’re doing with those scissors, but if you’d like, I’d be happy to cut your hair with a little more...” She glanced at the scissors, then at her wand. “Precision. Not that you should have any reason to trust me with something as important as your hair cut, but I have been doing a lot of reading and I’m sure I’ll be able to make it look very nice.”

“Oh. Oh.” This girl, Jemma, and her friend Skye were being... so nice to him. He waited for the shoe to drop. He tried to speak. “Well, I don’t want to impose -”

“It’s not an imposition if she offers, silly,” Skye said, bumping her shoulder into his. Like they could be friends. Like she wanted to be friends. And Jemma just nodded eagerly, all wide eyes and pretty blue headband.

“Well, I mean, alright then. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay, Leo,” Jemma said, nodding like she knew. Like she knew exactly why he was cutting his hair all alone on the Hogwarts Express in pants and a shirt that he knew he looked absurdly uncomfortable in... but he didn’t have anything else. Not yet. He’d been hoping his robes would help with all that.

She cleared her throat with a blush and scooted close to him. Skye smiled as Jemma nodded to herself, probably calling to mind a whole mess of knowledge from those books she’d been carrying. 

He wondered if she and Skye like spell theory and arithmancy, too.

As if in answer to his question, Skye sifted through the books to find an arithmancy volume that Fitz himself had been studying every night since his trip to Diagon Alley. She opened it and started reading with a casual smile at him. Like she didn’t want him to feel like he was being stared at. Like it was normal to be... who he was.

Jemma’s spell work was so crisp that he didn’t even need to clean up his hair -- it just sort of evaporated into the air around them as she cut it with her wand.

“You know,” she said as tears starting stinging his eyes. Skye didn’t take her eyes off her book, looking at her Muggle phone with one hand and comparing whatever was on the screen to what was in the textbook. But she reached out her other hand to squeeze his knee. He took her hand and squeezed back.

“Skye’s friends Mack and Trip have some sweaters and pants and things that they probably don’t need anymore,” Jemma continued. “If you’d like to get changed before we get to the castle. Not that you don’t look lovely now! But, if, you know, you’d like to be more comfortable.”

“And if you’re a Gryffindor, he can give you an awesome tour of the boy’s dormitories,” Skye said, still squeezing his hand.

“And if you’re not a Gryffindor, we’ll make sure that Trip or Hunter or Phil show you around.”

“I... Yes. Yes please.”

His father’s voice in his head told him he needed to find more articulate words. But his new friends smiled like they understood him completely.

“All done! I can make any adjustments if you don’t like it, or -”

“No. No, I love it,” Fitz whispered as he stared at himself in the window. His hair was mostly gone except for the smattering of curls that his mother had loved so much, and he looked... like himself. He looked like himself.

He ran a hand over the back of his head -- he could feel the back of his head for the first time, and it was absolutely miraculous. 

He trembled. Something else his father would disapprove of.

“I love it. But I... I don’t look ridiculous?” His father’s voice, just once more.

“No,” Jemma and Skye said at the same time.

“You look baller,” Skye said.

“Quite dashing,” Jemma blushed.

“Well, good. I love it. Thank you. Thank you.”

He didn’t know what else to say. Jemma was blushing, he was pretty sure he was blushing, and Skye looked positively thrilled, but she also wasn’t saying anything.

He cleared his throat.

“So Jemma’s all into becoming a healer, and that’s cool, but I think I’ll figure out something to do with arithmancy,” Skye said. “What about you, Leo Fitz?”

“Both of those are great. But I also love astronomy. I heard Hogwarts has an amazing -”

“Astronomy Tower, yes! With a perfect view of -”

“The constellation Theta Serpentis -”

“Which has my favorite star -”

“Alya!” 

“Alya!”

The three of them paused and then burst into giggles.

all trans guys are contractually obligated to choose from the same pool of vaguely Victorian names for ourselves, and I’m just saying: 

Leopold.

Prompt from Anonymous for a multi-pronged Endgame fix it (featuring an Agents of SHIELD crossover). The prompt and the fic are beneath the cut.