It was all Peter's fault. She could've kept on living as she had been, passing off all of the indicators as eccentricities, as geniuses had. Lump everything in with the 'not being handed things' quirk. But they weren't just quirks. And they weren't benign, either. They had been hurting her and causing problems and she didn't even know they were the root. If only fixing those problems hadn't created even more. At least Tony was a unisex name.

MtF Trans Tony Stark

Trigger warnings for gender dysphoria, transphobia, internalised transphobia, and anxiety attacks

Notes: -I'm using male pronouns until Tony decides otherwise

-I'm trans but ftm so I'm using my experiences but it's not exact


"Anyone seen my earbuds?" Tony moved a couch cushion out of the way with no luck.

"Don't you have an ear piece? Use that," Clint suggested, helpful as ever.

"No, my earbuds have better sound." Tony was getting more frantic in his search.

"Alright, calm down. What's the urgent matter that you desperately need good sound for?" The archer's words were forged from sarcasm.

"I really have to pee," Tony said, like that explained everything.

Steve made a face and looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "Why do you need them to pee?"

"Yeah, Mr. Stark, that's kind of weird..." Peter chimed in. Even though he was new to the tower, he had no problem making himself known. It got a lot easier for him to act normally after the first few days of his relentless vlogging and fanboying.

Tony shot him a look nonetheless and the boy shrugged as if in surrender in response.

"As a distraction. You know how- Ah! Found them. Who put them in the planter?"

Natasha sipped her tea loudly as a confession, her smirk visible in her eyes even before she removed the cup. "Go on. 'You know how...?'"

He barely spared her a glare before refocusing his attention on untangling them. "You know how it's just completely inexplicably terrible to pay attention to your own penis?"

Steve choked.

Natasha nodded in sincere understanding. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"So good music with the best sound you've ever experienced is a distraction," Tony finished.

"Weirdo," Clint commentated.

"Uh, Mr. Stark." Tony kind of hated how Peter called him that, but if he wanted to bug him with unnecessary formalities, so be it. "Sorry, but that actually sounds kind of like, uh, gender dysphoria?"

He was about to be offended, but was too legitimately taken aback. "Yeah, whatever, kid." He plugged his earbuds in and quickly made his way to the bathroom. His thoughts ended up being distracting enough.


He stared at himself in the mirror for hours that night. He hadn't always been the most pleased with how he looked, but was definitely able to act like he was. He was never sure what exactly he disliked, but it was almost stronger than a simple I'm not the most attractive person which kind of sucks feeling. It was more like I feel like I need to rip my whole face off and cry. He placed it under a self loathing category. Now, thanks to Peter's damn comment, he was reevaluating. And he kept looking at his beard.

He had decided on it around the time he took over for his father at the company. He was young and wanted to look older to gain respect. Naturally, that was the easiest way. It became iconic before he could even decide if he liked it, and was just as recognizable as his last name when he had decided he hated it. He wanted to rip it off the most. But he wouldn't. That would almost be worse than deciding that his weapons company wouldn't manufacture weapons anymore.

He couldn't stand to see himself with his shirt off. More recently, he had passed it off to himself as having started after Afghanistan. The arc reactor disturbed him. That was why. It must have been. Only now, really searching for evidence, did he realize that this was not a new thing at all. It wasn't the arc reactor or PTSD or any of that, because he remembered only then his first anxiety attack ever. It was over his chest, and while he was still in college. He didn't know what to make of himself after unlocking that memory, so deeply buried that it had been vividly preserved. So he moved on.

His mind drifted, on the topic of the arc reactor, to the Iron Man suit. More specifically, the name. It got on his nerves until it became insignificant from overuse. It wasn't made of iron. That's what annoyed him. Surely. No mystery there. Scientific inaccuracies always got to him, and this one only pulled at his insides because the suit was him.

Iron Man. No thank you. How about Gold-Titanium Man? That change gave him no relief. That's because it's long and awkward, he excused despite the burning truth in the back of his mind.

The thoughts took longer than it seemed they had and exhausted him. He slept fitfully.


After that, the business of life saved him from having to acknowledge his doubts. Long forgotten memories continued to pop up whenever he let his mind near the subject, and every one of them supported his fears. He hated it. He hated himself for even considering... that. Not that he was judgmental towards others for it, but it certainly did not apply for him.

His lowest times only seemed to happen when he was alone in his room at night. It had been a long, quiet day, and as much as he had tried to keep himself occupied with suit repairs and updates, he couldn't shake the incessant sick thoughts that plagued his imagination. He had to confront them and hopefully flush them out.

Laying on top of his sheets, his body shook with a breath. Some intense feeling of discomfort wrapped his organs and brought him to a point of nausea, almost a point where he was willing to accept that instead of continue feeling this way. His conscious and unconscious felt at war. He couldn't concentrate on either side for long enough to make any sane judgement about what either argument was. Before he knew it he was crying. Confusion described as a swirling head had never felt so real.

He broke.

"Jarvis, can you refer to me as a female until I tell you otherwise?" Saying it out loud made him feel equally uncomfortable as it did relieved.

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else?" The AI's voice was soothing. Some of the war in Tony's head immediately calmed down, as much as that boded unpleasantly.

"No, that's all. Thanks, Jar."

"My pleasure, Ms. Stark."

She let out a breath and smiled, forgetting for a moment that this was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to her and enjoying the relief of psychological peace before having to face the reality in the morning.