Sarah Paulson's Characters - Oneshots

🏳️‍⚧️ Male Tears ⚠️

I fuckin love this song. It's about male tears.

Ship: Diane Sherman x FtM Reader

⚠️: Anxiety Attack, Body Dysphoria, Mention of Eating Disorder

Note: don't mind me, gonna boogie to this song

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Diane had been gone for a few days, at first you didn't mind. She was going to New Orleans for something, though she didn't tell you. You stared at yourself in the mirror, lifting your shirt. I hate these. You thought to yourself, the taste of vomit in your mouth at the sight of breasts on your body. Then, your phone began to ring.

You ran to the kitchen where your phone was, answering it. "Hey handsome!" Diane greeted, smiling. "Hey!" You greeted, smiling softly. "How are you feeling, boo-bear?" She inquired, her voice almost maternal. "I'm fine. I was just about to take a shower." You brought the phone to the bathroom, hiding something out of view from the camera as though it was second nature. "I'm coming home tomorrow. I was talking to this witch named Cordelia, she gave me something that'll change your appearance to what you want for a few years. She gave me a few of them, it goes in like a shot." She explained, you getting undressed on camera.

"Look at that sexy ass man! Oo-ooh!" Diane catcalled you? Through the phone with a howl? Well that was new. Your stomach was in so much pain from not eating, but you couldn't afford for curves to be formed. "When I get home, I'm gonna make you my king." She purred, you turning the shower on. "I thought I already was?" You questioned, confused. "You're my Prince. King is through marriage." Diane specified, you swiftly moving to look at her with confusion, shock, and intrigue. "Are you proposing to me over the phone?" You asked, Diane holding up a donut. "Absolutely. Take your shower, handsome." Diane blew you a kiss over the phone, hanging up. Your smile was quickly replaced with how you truly felt. Dread.

You got in the shower, furiously cleaning your body. I hate this, I hate this, I hate that. You took note on everything you hated about your body, getting out soon after and heading to your shared room. You turned on music as you got dressed. Getting your binder on, you saw yourself in the mirror, eyes wide. God you're hideous. Who said that? You got closer to the mirror, tracing your fingers over every inch of your skin. You ignored your ringing phone, staring at yourself. How does she even love you? She's only with you because she feels obligated to take care of you.

You shook your head, covering your eyes. How could she ever love me?

Diane noticed you didn't answer any of her calls or texts, getting scared. "I have to go. I'm worried about (Y/N)." Diane explained, Cordelia nodding. "Go, he needs you." Cordelia got out of the car, tires screeching as Diane booked it. 16 hours. Anything could happen in 16 hours. Bad things could happen. She tried calling you the entire time, swerving through traffic, cruising through parking lots to skip lights. She sneakily stole another person's gas in the name of getting to you, panicking. He's dear. You fucked up, Diane, he's dead. Then, she got through. "Bug-a-boo?" She called out, the car coming to a harsh stop as she almost hit the house swerving to a stop. She didn't even bother grabbing her phone, running into the house and finding you on the floor. "Oh, honey." She cooed softly, sitting down and pulling you into her arms.

"Don't! I'm hideous!" You sobbed out, Diane taken aback. "Excuse me? Who told you that!?" Diane questioned, making you look up at her. You slowly pointed to your head, hiccuping. Her furious expression dropped to sorrow, hugging you tightly. "You're not hideous. You're my handsome man, my sexy man." She reassured, dappling kisses on your face. "You're my handsome, sweet, sexy man. And if anyone says otherwise..." She hugged you tightly, mimicking a pistol with her hand. "They get Mr. Pew-Pew." She whispered, kissing you. "Get up. I'm gonna take you somewhere." She picked you up, getting you dressed. "Where?" You asked, glancing in the mirror. "I'm gonna take you out for ice cream, then we're going to have a pillow fight." She cooed, picking you up and carrying you to the car.

"Hey Diane?" You asked, sitting in the Baskin Robbins parking lot with Diane. "Yeah?" "When I get to your age, the voices that tell you that you're ugly, worthless, and that everyone hates you..." "... Yeah?" "That voice, does it go away?" Diane stared at you, thinking of what to say. Her heart broke at your question.

"They do, my dear."