Trans-Male Imagines

Daniel Howell

A/N: request from yikesitsaiden

requests are still open!

trigger warnings- slight panic, misuse of pronouns, transphobic actions/behaviour.

as always, Y/N- your name, Y/B/N- your birth name. would it be better if i switched it to 'your dead name'? i'm not sure what people prefer. enjoy!

You glance around the crowded tube station, scanning over the map of stops hurriedly before waiting behind the yellow line to board the emptying car. You ignore the surrounding people by pretending to scroll through a feed on your phone, hoping to get home without any hassle.

Once on the tube, you hear the familiar calls of, "Please, mind the gap as you exit and enter the car ." and "You are leaving Victoria Station." The doors slide shut and you hold tightly to the pole going from ceiling to floor as the train car jolts to a start, eyes glued to your blank phone screen all the while.

The car is mostly deserted, save for three men, two with dark jackets and who smell like cigarette smoke, and one woman with a small child at her side. The kid lets out a giggle as they tip sideways, and you give a small smile. The third man has a mop of curly brown hair and is wearing a grey sweater, and he's laughing lightly at something on his phone. Your heart skips a little and you hurriedly look away.

"Hey." It's one of the men in dark jackets. You glance up, and he is way too close to you. You edge a little away, and ignore him. Get home without any hassle. He steps closer, and knocks your shoulder a little more than gently.

"I said 'hey', little girl, I'm talking to you," he growls, and you gag on the smell of smoke that emanates off of him. You tuck your phone into your pocket and move a little further over. The mom and her child are looking around nervously, hoping that their stop is soon. Apparently it is, for as soon as the door slides open and the woman's voice starts, she is off the train, little kid in town. The kid waves at you as they leave, and it brings a spark of hope to your mind. It's quickly smothered, however, as the man approaches again.

"I said, I'm talking to you, girl. Look at me," he snaps.

"Those are my pronouns," you say, quietly, but defiant.

"I don't give a shit, little girl. Shut up and look at me." His voice is low and threatening, and you gulp. The kind-smiling brown-haired man is now looking up concernedly, and you glance toward him, panicked. He sets down his backpack and his phone, but your head is yanked around before you can see what he does next. The man in the dark jacket tightens his grip on your jaw, every jolt of the train car making your neck ache. He leans in close, his breath clogging your lungs.

"Get off of him." The hand on your head clenches down, and you wince as you hear a pop, and your eyes well with tears.

"Get off of him!" the newcomer repeats. The doors slide open again ,and you let out a gasp as you are suddenly released, shoved backwards out the door. Your assailant and his companion sneers as the door begins to close. Just before it shuts, the brown haired man slips out, backpack once again on.

"Hey, are you okay? My name is Daniel." His voice is soft and calm. You shakily nod your head, though your jaw aches.

"You're sure? Your jaw is starting to bruise. That prick really did a number, huh? I'm sorry you had to go through that," he states. You brush your hand over the bruises as a tear falls from your eye. So much for no hassles.

"Hey, it's okay, don't cry!" Daniel exclaims. "No need to let that douche make you feel like anything less than a man."

Almost as if he didn't mean to, Daniel reached up and brushed the fallen tear off your face. He quickly withdrew his hand, his cheeks red. You find it kind of adorable. You let out a small laugh at his expression. He smiles back, and your heart flutters again.

"Thank you, Daniel," you say. He offers his hand to help you up. You take it gratefully, looking at the ground.

"Could I, um, could I get your name?" Daniel stammers.

"(Y/N)," you reply. Daniel smiles again. You like his smile. He takes his bookmark the from the front pocket of his backpack and scribbles something out. He folds it twice and reaches over, tucking it into your coat pocket.

"See you around, (Y/N)," he says, with a grin. He climbs the stairs up to the street and you stare after him for a while. You reach into your pocket and pull out the bookmark. On the plain side is scrawled a phone number and the name 'Daniel Howell'. You flip it over and your heart soars. It's a simple phrase in multicolour lettering- "Love is Love."