Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CODES:

Y/N - YOUR NAME

D/N - DEAD NAME

E/C - EYE COLOUR

H/C - HAIR COLOUR

T/N - TOWN NAME

C/N - COUNTRY NAME

P/N - PARENT NAME

G/P - GENERAL PRACTICE

BEGINNING

YOUR POV...

I guess this is... Me. Hi! My name is Y/N. Yes, I... guess it's an uncommon name! Hah... But it's me, and that's why I chose it. You might be wondering how I named myself.... Well, to put it kind of simply, I'm... Trans. Yeah, I'm y/n the 'slur boy,' that's what they all call me. My mom doesn't even call me by my real name- she calls me D/N. I might as well call her by her name: Yolanda.

Yolanda is more like the Lady Of The House- always forcing me to cook meals for the entire family, and cut their hair, iron their clothes, do the washing and the cleaning and the gathering of herbs to create potions. She makes me take pilgrimages to the center of Arizona (many miles away from my home, C/N, T/N) just to get her special eyebrow wax. My father- p/n- just sits there and reads his copy of 'Republican's Weekly,' and my half siblings- Michael/Michelle (Midoriya) and Fidel/Fidella (Castro)- beat me with a broomstick for sport, watching me scurry back up the fireplace to hide away in my bedroom from them.

Today was my nineteenth birthday, and I was ready to begin my chores. Luckily, today my petite form- standing only at 3'2, with a waist of 00.0001 inches- just had to go to the grocery store and negotiate 60% of their stock down to (£1 in your currency), and carry it all home upon my tiny dainty back, my h/c hair thrown up into a tiny messy bun. Since I cut my hair short, the messy bun had been (thanfully) hard to achieve, but I was banned from sharp objects.... So my hair was growing again.

"No child of mine will become a dirty (f slur) (t slur)!!" Yolanda yelled, as my siblings hit me with the dusty broom, smoke made up of soot and dust unfurling around me like smoke. I cried that day...

Just as I'd slipped my rollerblades onto my dainty size 000000.00000000001 toesies, Yolanda burst in through the doorway- because my door had been consumed by the termites....

My head stayed bowed, eyes cast to the floor in fear. Tense- all of my muscles had tensed like coiled springs ready to boing free. Sweat beaded upon my nom existent brow. Somehow I knew something bad was to come. The silence was so thick that you'd have to use a hacksaw to cut through it.

"D/N," Yolanda barked, her thick Scottish accent booming through the tiny confines of my room. Or rather... my cell.

"Get up now. I have a surprise for you."

The sweat upon my brow dripped. Surely it.... couldn't be too bad? Right? I often underestimated mother... And I hadn't moved quickly enough! My e/c orbs widened as she yanked me upwards by my h/c raggedy hair, launching me down the spiral staircase with monstrous ease, as if I were as light as a feather and built like a javelin.

"AURGH!" I screamed in my LGBTQ voice.

But... I landed against something- or, rather, someone- that was soft. A firm wall of muscle... He smelled of sandalwood and mint, and it was sure that he worked out. I didnt dare look up yet, not at this adonis of a man, carved from the very sunlight that God graced the earth with. The being that skibidi toilet only wished he could be. Fawned over, surely, always in his merry band of six. A big hand- big like the boat that'd caress the ocean so softly- ran through my messy hair, causing my wide e/c orbs to daintily and nervously look up. Beautiful brown locks of masculine energy framed his perfect symmetrical face, two dimples accompanying that... charming grin.

"Ello luv," Harry chuckled.

"Looks likeh yer gunna be accompanying me far away luv."

There was a beat of stunned silence, I opened my mouth only to shut it again like a goldfish with beautiful stunning e/c orbs that caught the low light like e/c fire...

"I sold you to Harry. Hopefully he can cure your (t slur) (f slur) (r slur) ways," Yolanda quipped, her tone snide and mean. Michael/Michelle and Fidel/Fidella could be heard heavily breathing from the living room doorway, their talons sharp and ready to strike...

It was just then that Harry's godly laugh rang through the hallway like a heavenly chime- causing my demented and evil siblings to shriek and scatter. I couldn't see Yolanda's confused expression, or that Harry had pulled a Glock 19 G series out. All I heard was the 'pow pow,' and all that I felt was the rickshaw of the gun's blast. I curled up against Harry's muscular chest as Yolanda melted into a puddle of green goo. She was Elphaba all along.

"Don't worry, baba gril," Harry whispered tenderly into my ear.

"Yer safe wiv me now darling innit."

And, just like that, he scooped me up and took me away to his stretched limousine. I guess my family was gone- and I felt... sad. Eventhough they were terrible, they were still like Gordon Ramsay is to the kitchen. Irreplaceable. Needed. But... Now I had Harry. I guess this was like HRT- but instead of my hormones being replaced, it was... Harry replacing my family. To be continued...

Chapter Text

"... D/N is.... dont be a (f slur)... no, Jungkook..... I can....."

Everything was... blurry. Submerged in the water of my LGBT neurodivergent consciousness. I coukd hear drips of conversation, but... not much. Just a few words here and there. A whisper and a joke and a harsh slur or two. I was finally awoken when something burned my leg, jolsting me from my slumber.

I sat up with a start, finding my dainty delicate 00.000001lbs hourglass figure lying sprawled across an oak bedframe, an old worn soiled gym mat in place of a mattress. I looked at where I'd felt the burning- someone had poured boiling hot water onto my delicate calf, almost melting it through my ripped acid wash size 0 Levis. They were stained beyond compare, looking as if I'd rolled in mud like some kind of ethereal piglet. My oversized Nirvana T-Shirt made me look even more petite, with my hair still thrown up into the same messy bun.

After regaining my awareness, I glanced around at my surroundings timidly. I found myself encircled by five men....

I recognised them all:

Harry Styles. The man built from muscle, a song sung from the lips of Apollo himself. A cascade of chocolate curls framed his tan face, and a charming, slightly lopsided, pearly grin greeted me. I would've flushed red if he hadn't of seemed so... Wolfish. He wore a slim fitting tee that showed off his pure muscles and mafia tattoos, and his knuckles were bruised and bloodied; but that didn't seem to bother anyone else that stood present here before me...

Jungkook. I recognised his face from the magazines. A renowned Kpop idol, and notorious leader of the famous "BTS Clan" of vampires. His aura was dark and mysterious, and his eyes shone a deep wine red, that akin to faded bloodstains on white linen. His mafia tattoos were similar to Harry's, yet his whispered deeper secrets of bloodshed and magic, eternal youth and unspoken power... His dark hair was slicked back elegantly, and grace surrounded him in a quiet yet prevalent aura. I found myself blushing, porcelain skin reddening in intimidation... He stood still beside Harry, arms crossed.

Saitama. Nonchalant. His bald head shone with nonchalance, and his expression told no secrets. He was dressed modestly and stood leaning against the far wall, flicking through a book that I couldn't quite make out the cover of. He was the head honcho of Harry's mafia group, keeping the main six- Harry, Liam, Nial, Zayn, Louis, and Big Chee- safe using his unearthly powers. He was lean and lithe; it was hard to believe that he was THE One Punch Man.

Gordon Ramsay. Leader of the Scottish clan of Wizards, headmaster of Hogwarts Academy. The oldest of the five. Gordon stood tall and proud, a kinder expression gracing his face as he stared down upon my petite and fragile form. His wizard robes resembled that of a chef's coat, and his staff was a giant spork made from the souls of the Welsh. The harsh lines upon his aged face seemed only to add to his older charm, and show unspoken wisdom...

And finally...

Levi Ackerman. Levi was the shortest, but he was the strongest. With bulging muscle that could be seen almost tearing through his white tee, marked with the sigils and scars of his pack- The Alpha Lunar Moon Pack- and eyes that were surrounded by smudged darkness, you could tell from just a glance that he'd seen so much, and that he was... the alpha. His alpha musk marked the room, the scent heady and intoxicating to my very lungs. I would've choked if he'd of stood any closer. His gaze was unwavering and... somewhat frightening, that long side fringe of his having hidden his heterochromia. If I squinted I could see the scars from his youth that people often rumoured him to have...

The silence was deafening. I just... sat, resisting the urge to fiddle with my h/c hair like the (t slur) (f slur) that I was.

"Looks like the chosen one has finally awoken," mused Saitama, his round head cocking to the side as he shut the book with one hand, the 'THUNK!' resounding through the somewhat dark and empty room.

The... Chosen One?

Chapter Text

"What... What is this?" I asked, my voice hoarse ans trembling gayly from hours of LGBTQ+ unconsciousness.

"Who... why am I here? How did-"

"Quiet," cut in a stern voice- Levi.

In comparison to my tiny petite and dainty form, his emo grace was like a giant. His aura was thick with the dark trauma that he held every day in his alpha soul, not a beat of a merry tune in sight or sound. That rich velvety voice was firm with military training and years of authority. Like the slicing of a knife through butter. A whip cracking the air. Nerves bubbled in my weak gut, causing my petite form to quiver in intimidation. Why were my porcelain cheeks flushing? I... Oh no! I couldn't be... blushing, could I?

"Looks like someone's shy," Saitama chuckled from his place in the corner.

Levi cast him a look that held promises of massive amounts of sheer violence and bloodshed. The bald man almost seemed to shrink back slightly, his nonchalance ever-so-slightly wavering. Then, Levi turned to stare at me again. Serious- he seemed... Serious.

"I know that you may have a lot of questions. We... Know that," The Werewolf began, gesturing at the group of men he stood with.

"But, unfortunately, we can't give you the answers that you want. What I can tell you is that your mother is dead. You'll never have to labour under her orders ever again. You can thank Harry for that."

Slightly behind Levi stood the curly-haired cheeky chap. He gave a cheeky grin and waved his fingertips in a playful manner. Jungkook- who was stood to Harry's left- shoved him in the arm. Harry made a mock offended face as Alpha Levi continued to talk so authoritively.

"Since your home wasn't... Isn't, suitable for you to live in anymore, you'll be staying here in our mansion. HQ, whatever you want to call it, until we can... figure out what to do with you, and what the prophecy means."

I blinked.

Prophecy?

I opened my mouth of perfect white trans teeth to respond, my huge almond eyes batting ever so slightly as they twinkled with tears. My mother was dead. Sure, she was horrible. Sure, she tortured me and was in debt to the state. Sure, she hated me for my gender identity- for who I was, who I am. But she was still my mother. And now she was gone. Maybe it was a good thing- that I could utilise my binder without fear of the dusty broom beatings; that I could live in peace and sleep long hours; that I'd never have to pilgrimage all the way to Arizona just for her special green eyebrow wax removal creams and potion ingredients. But... Yolanda is gone now. And now I was supposed to believe that there was some prophecy? I was in a room with five of the most powerful men in the country- C/N- at the moment, and everyone was seemingly very tight lipped about the situation. Where even is the mansion.

"What... W-What prophecy?" I asked timidly, finding the confidence to speak up and not pee my pants in fear.

I didnt see how Saitama blushed bright pink at the sound of my melodic voice, or how Harry's grin widened and Jungkook seemed to start drooling, or how Gordon was hiding his admiration behind a wall of magic lamb sauce, or the pause that set Levi's response back a few seconds.

"The Prophecy of Pop. La Prophecie De Poopé," The rugged alpha said in a gentler tone.

"Long ago... In days of old, The Queen of Dance- Abby Lee Miller- ruled with an iron fist. She proclaimed that the land was her own, forging the warriors of her country- Danceland- into the best of the best. Like the Amazons, her ranks were a purely female force. Her soldiers were beaten down only to rise higher and stronger than ever before, attacking enemies and crushing them ruthlessly. Abby Lee was feared. Revered. As were her warriors."

"For years on end her best team- Elite Squad 0- consisted of the main eight- Mack-Z, Mad-E, Newia, Pages, Brooken, and Hulkina Hoganna. They were unstoppable- until the rapture. When Elon Musk rose up with his sentibots and bitcoin, the kingdom was left under threat- the economy wouldve crumbled. But the Elite Squad took him down with nothing but a pickle and two tablespoons of pure butter. Everyone was unscathed- apart from Mad-E, her supposed chosen one. Without Mad-E, Abby's decent into madness was swift."

"Many came to claim their place as replacement, but none prevailed. You see, Mad-E was supposed to inherit the kingdom after the passing of heirless Abby. But nobody anticipated that the winner could and would lose."

"Abby's prophecy was that, one day, the creation of something grand would unlock her secret vault in the lowest dungeons of her castle, and only then would the true ruler of all be revealed. The true ruler to take her place at the top of the pyramid. It is said that The True Ruler will have powers, and marry the strongest man in the domain, and have beautiful, h/c hair, and e/c eyes that sparkle like diamonds. Someone who's name begins with the letter of your first name, d/n."

The silence was so thick now that you could hear a pin drop. He'd deadnamed me and created some insane fiction to try and woo me into thinking kidnapping a member of the lgbtq+ for no reason was okay! What a fucking gaslighter! I furrowed my eyebrows.

"My name is y/n, and I dye my hair, and you're insane- I don't even have any powers-"

"You 'ave fucking powers you fucking donut," Gordon interjected, his voice slow and full of power, like the steady steps of a tiger surveying it's prey.

"You just might not know about them yet, you fucking knobby bitch."

I felt my face flush in embarrassment at that comment. I shifted and sat up on the uncomfortable bed that I had been laying daintily down on. I swung my dainty elegant beautiful legs over the side of the thin mat so that my feet almost touched the floor. I was petite so I could swing my legs like the beautiful amazing being that I was.

"Yer.... Yer a (t slur)???" Harry exclaimed slowly, his heavenly eyes widening and his muscles rippling.

I felt my cheeks redden daintily in embarrassment. But, before I could explain that word was a slur, Jungkook raised a perfectly sculpted hand and gestured for the divine man to be quiet a moment.

"That is a slur and it isn't okay to say. LGBTQ+ Rights are important to acknowledge, Harrison," Jungkook drawled, his hot fangs peeking from beneath his lips.

More lgbtq+ silence....

Levi sighed and ran a hand down his face, beginning to amble towards the door with Gordon trailing behind leisurely, smiling kindly and wisely.

"Saitama, escort him to his room. We'll continue this discussion after you freshen up," the Skibidi Sigma Alpha Ackerman called back over his shoulder, just as Harry and Jungkook followed after as well. Jungkook cast me a knowing glance and nodded his head at me, but Harry just averted his gaze. I felt my beautiful face stay warm.

After we were alone, Saitama sighed quietly, scooping me up effortlessly into his arms and wandering towards the door. He looked lean, but he was so muscular and firm-formed. My e/c orbs widened at this revelation, and at how he glanced down at me curiously.

"You're prettier up close," he muttered, his tone nonchalant as usual, as if it was just an afterthought.

"Th-thanks," I stuttered awkwardly in response as we made way to my new room.

My new life...

Chapter Text

I didnt enjoy the tension.

Saitama was much taller than my petite form- standing at only 0000000000.1 meters with a tiny waist and slowly growing out choppy h/c hair, I felt like a little fairy next to his well-built, lithe, agile form. His strides could've been long but I could tell that he was almost pidgeon-stepping so that I could keep up without winding myself. I didnt notice it then, but he kept looking at me out of the corner of his mysterious, guarded eyes. I fiddled with my jean pockets.

"Uhm.... So... What is this place?" I asked quietly, my doe eyed expression turning up to survey Saitama's stoic one.

He didn't reply at first, just glancing over at me a couple of times as we made our way through the hallway. It stretched for what felt like miles....

"HQ."

The silence was only really broken by the sound of our clothed as we ambled slowly. I looked around, e/c orbs taking in the room we had just entered: The windows were arched and the floor was a natural-looking stone; Benches made up of wood that had the ability to seat hundreds- if not thousands- were placed in the four rows that they were laid out in; Candles seemed to hover above us in the hair, creating a warm environment and casting a golden light upon Saitama's smooth bald head; the front of the room had a platform- a short one- lined with seats and at front a golden podium that looked grand and homophobic; the architecture was grand and emo and quite gothic. Alongside the mysterious (what appeared to be a) dining hall seemed to be... Wizards. People of all ages, dressed in dark garbs with pointed hats and very straight expressions glided through gaps and nooks and crannies, paying no mind to the two of us that were dressed casually. My e/c orbs glowed with curiosity.

"What... is this place?" I breathed gayly.

Saitama was pleasantly silent, his expression slightly quirked in LGBTQ+ fondness as he looked at me.

"HQ."

In the corner of the room, by some wide and ornately carved oak doors, I spotted Harry and Levi Ackerman talking to a shorter man with a curly moustache and brown hair. He was stacked with pure muscles and a six pack that rippled through his three piece suit, with long fingers that held what looked to be a magic wand in his right hand. I squinted and took note of the three's serious expressions. Harry- upon seeing my gaze- immediately brightened and waved, the grin spreading across his godly, handsome, amazing, manly, (f slur) face like butter upon hot toast. Levi followed the gesture, along with the buff man. I jumped as Saitama leaned down to whisper sensually into my ear.

"Chiquito," He breathed into the shell of my ear.

"That's Professor Flitwick. He's harmless, Mi Porcupine, just avoid his... wand."

My cheeks fell ablaze with red and my head whipped around so that I could glare at him. Just because I was dainty, LGBTQ+ and petite that didn't mean that I was incapable of noticing an innuendo! Or of handling myself! I backhanded the bald bitch across the face ans angrily stormed out of a nearby door, my cheeks the colour of cherry tomatoes.

But then I was falling.

Falling into a neverending dark abyss; falling to my doom in a fit of fear and panic. My screams were knocked from me- the G-force winding my dainty petite lungs completely. Was I going to die?

...But then, like a Saint, Luffy and Mikasa swung out of the shadows and caught me. I recognised them from posters- The Titan Fighters of the Atlantic. Soon, they'd whooshed us up to safety.

"Watch out next time," Luffy grinned, tipping his warn straw hat, Mikasa standing silently not too far behind.

"These stairs move!"

And with that, they whooshed back into the darkness below. I fell to my dainty gay knees, clutching my chest and bursting into a torrent of tiny tears as warm strong arms enveloped me. I hyperventilated grievously.

"Its okay luv... I wiw pruhtect yew innit," Harry husked into my ear before carrying me back into that dining hall. But he bypassed all of the people, my ears only registering some of the passing chatter. Before I knew it, he'd tucked me into my new bed and I had passed out due to how overwhelmed my LGBTQ+ (t slur) frame was...

Chapter Text

The darkness of the Chamber of Secrets was secret..

 Black plumes of smoke slithered across slimy sewer floors, engulfing the legs of that old chair that her old woman ass sat upon. A croak of suppressed laughter caused her nose to drop from her face, the skin too thin and aged to keep structure. Stringy ginger locks of hair hung limp around her muscular, manly shoulders. Sharp enough face to cut through bone. All of her masculine glory was illuminated by the glow of the evil orb sat before her, upon a bone pedestal.

"My child... d/n.... you will see... you will see.." She croaked in a manly way, brittle and soiled fingers circling the evil orb of light that showed an image of y/n, sound asleep...

---------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n never really dreamt- for dreams always lead to nightmares in real life. But...

Y/n stood before a garden of beauty: it was the middle of spring, with butterflies scattering the crisp morning air, and the sunlight illuminating a plethora of perfectly groomed shrubbery before him. And, sitting within those bushes and long LGBT grass stems, were men. Big buff men, some more lanky, some more charming and charismatic, some bald... Some known, others not so much. They all watched y/n walk with purpose, flushed pink and a little dazed with confusion, towards the center of this... spring garden, along a yellow brick road.

There, in the center of the center, stood in the fountain and looking like he was sent straight from the heavens, was an angel: yellow mohawk, two buttcheeks for a magnificent chin, a cheeky little chappy face, a monarch butterfly resting upon a crooked finger. His face was half turned to y/n's transgender presence. He chuckled.

The sound of musical, rizzy, old time smooth romantic jazz was his laugh.

He said simple words that cut through the beauty of this garden with something even more.

Something better.

Something perfect.

"Ramen, milady?"

And then- just like that!- y/n awoke, panting for breath with a beet red face.

Yare yare...

Chapter Text

I awoke to beautiful music...

It was... A banjo, flowing smoothly to a soft rhythm that threatened to twist my LGBTQ+ soul and snap it into two, before melting it down into the purest form of light and reanimating me into something better. Greater.

The sound of the beautiful song urged me to get up, to chamber out of bed and to follow its lul to the source. And so I did. I padded down marble halls, not bothering to stop and stare at the beautiful and expert oil portraits that hung on the extravagant walls. If I would have stopped, I wouldve found portraits of the greats: Levi Ackerman, Saitama and Harry, Jungkook, Gordon, Rupaul, and the creator of Hotwheels, among many others. My bare tootsies stepped across the floor of the winding halls, before finally I arrived at the doorway of the noise. The beautiful noise of banjos...

There, sat in the middle of the great orchestra lounge Ltd. Was a tall man. He stood at about 9'2, with a striking sunshine yellow mohawk and broad shoulders. He had a regal air about him, and his clothes oozed money. I couldn't see any face details, seeing as he faced away from my petite and dainty transgender form, but i could clearly see his pink blazer and his gucci trousers, and his Jimmy Choo X Prada loafers. The music wafted from him in an invisible stream of soul, along with the faint yet charming aroma of ramen and cheese. The faint sway of him, and his bulging bicep muscles added... more to how alluring this man seemed. This unknown mystery man with a giant sunshine-yellow mohawk and an expert skill in banjo tingling....

I cleared my LGBTQ+ throat, causing him to halt in his banjo playing. Slowly, he turned, and my petite and dainty form froze imperceptibly, my e/c orbs widening into saucers.

It was him.

The dream man.

Ramen Man.

He chuckled, his voice just as- if not more- musical than it had been in that daydream of a gay dream I'd had earlier. I could've sworn that I peed a little in fear and confusion, i swear to Simon. He was just the same- his smooth and suave chuckle so deep and dextrous, his lips full and his chin two balls of buttcheek glory that stared at me like his big and knowing eyes did. Who was he?....

"Milady," he husked, setting down the banjo to lean against the amp that it had been plugged into in an elegant and swift manner. Such a beautiful man...

"I- I'm a man," I stammered, turning pink.

He paused at that before chuckling again and bowing his head slightly.

"My apologies, good sir," he rectified the situation.

I shifted awkwardly before him. He quirked a perfect eyebrow.

"You seem... nervous. Are you new?"

I turned red, my blush deepening so noticeably that it was almost a gay crime. I could only manage a nod, my queer gay throat closing up like a shriveled old man. The stranger chuckled again, the sound like an addictive drug, causing a high like no other. I felt as if I were floating upon a bed of luxurious LGBTQ+ clouds.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lord Nendou Riki, Thane of Fife, Lord of the Red Sea, Ramen Lord and... so many other things, I cannot keep up these days. Allow me to show you around..." Nendou trailed off, raising both brows as if silently asking my name.

I cleared my throat again, shifting anxiously and glancing away.

"Y/n."

I sounded like a mouse, my reply but a small, timid, quiet, (f slur) (t slur) squeak.

He smiled.

"Y/n. A handsome name."

He paused before brushing past me, only to snatch one of my claims hands up in his own, leading me gently back out and into the corridor.

"Allow me to show you around, milord," Riki Nendou called over his shoulder cheerily. Gayfully. Beautifully....

Chapter Text

I panted as I tried to keep up with the long strides that Lord Nendou took, his f slur yellow hair bustling in the wind that blew so gayly through the airy corridors of Hogwarts Q. We'd taken a gander, ambling across old rug and ancient brick; we'd looked into many a class, many a room filled with potions, shirtless, glistening, muscular men training against one another in sessions of steamy combat; Nendou had even introduced me to some of his friends:

Saiki Kusuo: a man of little words but a gaze so heavy that my petite form quivered; Shun Kaidou: agent JET BLACK WINGS, a gangly wall of lean muscle and eyes full of suspicious mischief. His hands were bandaged, too... i wonder what hed done to incur such deadly injuries; Bidybab: a short.. animatronic? Such big eyes that glowed a deep ocean blue, so soulless and cold, even despite the cheerful metallic grin that they wore; Midoriya Izuku and "Kachan"; a green haired man with a cheerful and talkative aura that was practically glued at the hip of the blond moody man, Kachan. He looked miserable and they were both utterly gay. They stank of old rainbows and gay people fumes.

All of Nendou's inner circle seemed quite friendly, although we didn't stop to talk to each one of them for too long. They were all... busy. Doing what, i was told not to worry my pretty little head... I blushed tomato red...

"Oh! I wanna show you my Ramen Room buddy! Here!" Nendou exclaimed with homosexual excitement, grasping my dainty arm firmly in his ocean hands, tugging me over to a big oak door. It was aged, with carvings of little hedgehogs. They wore shoes, gloves, and manic expressions, climbing hills and jumping through hoops... I wondered whether this was symbolic, or whether they represented some kind of forgotten past, long bygone....

As the door opened, my dainty (t slur) (t slur) (f slur) e/c eyes landed on a shady looking man stirring a steaming pot. His back was turned to us both, but even from his back I could see that his physique was... exquisite. Lanky, but so much muscle that he was almost... buff. Through the dark fabric of his tee I could see the strain of those lustrous spine bones, and his firm, pale, gay looking biceps. Triceps. Quadceps.... He was taller than even Saitama- 12'00? He also had... a tail? Fluffy, pink, spanning the length of two of my arms put top to tail in a long line. Donning a sharp black fedora to match the ensemble of homosexual darkness that this stranger was already clad in. He stirred the pot slowly, with precision and expertise. As if he was making art. Making ramen with his bare, gay, stinky paws...

I couldn't help but shiver.

Nendou, however, didn't seem as pleased as me. His gay form was tensed and... angry. This was the first time in the entire hour of knowing hin that I'd seen an expression other than carefree joy upon his face. He shut the door so quickly that my petite tiny uwu form almost died on the spot. I stared with confused orbs, the two of us standing still in the silence.

"Who... was that?" I whispered, voice quivering.

Nendou didn't even look at me. His head tilted ever so slightly before he sighed, turning to look down to his right- away from me. He seemed to be deciding what to say.

"Mold."

The word was simple enough. Confusing in this context, though.

"M-mold?" I stammered in a small transgender voice.

"Masculine Ominous Lanky Dude. He's..."

A beat of silence.

"My ex," Nendou finished, voice half a sigh and half cracked like a vase thrown against a brick wall of ass.

I shifted awkwardly.

"Oh."

Nendou walked to the giant arched window behind us; the one that overlooked the pizza factory in the courtyard. The sunlight danced across his features like something out of an oil painting. One of the expensive ones. I stayed where I was, by the door, listening to the Lord talk.

"You might be wondering what HQ even is. I know that nobody has explained, y/n. It's... wrong. Levi will explain it all soon, and I don't like ruining his plans. I don't like ruining anything. But I hate..." Nendou's voice cracked. I couldn't quite make out whether he was about to cry.

"I hate this sick reality. The one where..."

He seemed to be struggling... I made the decision to comfort him. So, slowly, I padded over and placed a dainty hand upon his rippling arm. I gave a reassuring smile as his face whipped to the side to stare at me with wide, tear filled, gay eyes. He was... searching for something.

But, before he found what he was looking for, before he could tell me what... anything was, those doors opened again. A calice chuckle rung out through my earballs. Nendou looked petrified, like he'd pissed himself, body tensing impeccably. Muscular arms came to surround my tiny hourglass frame- almost like a... shield? I couldn't even see the hatman.

"Well, isn't this a surprise? Moved on so fast, Nendou. Trying to fill the void that I left with some... t slur?"

Before he could move, Nendou had been struck to the floor with a ladel, sending the both of us sprawling upon the dirty floor.I rolled on my dainty lgbtq back before staring up at the dark, emo, mysterious hatman. I couldnt see his face, though- the fedora cast a dark shadow across it. I could, however, see the glint of sharp fangs.

"How pitiful," croned the calice voice of MOLD.

"Don't hurt him, Gogo," rasped Nendou, pleading from his place beside me- his grip was winding.

The cackle that rung throughout the hall echoed for miles. Gay people laugh loud.

"Relax. I won't hurt her," MOLD quipped sharply, transphobically.

"I just wanted to see what poor excuse for a human you decided to replace me with. This really is an entertaining sight, it is. I have better things to do though. I'll kill you later," Gogo chuckled, stomping my head and walking off.

I passed out daintily, confused and gay...

Chapter Text

I sat in my room, still dumbfounded by the queer interaction that I'd just beheld. I knew that some people hated the LGBTQ+ business, and that the straighties couldn't always be allies, but... Wow. A homophobic homosexual- a furry one, at that. I was so... confused. Finding out that the charismatic Lord Nendou was a divorced male was also somewhat astounding to me. Shocking. Surprising.

My head perked, hearing a knock at my door. A blonde head poked through the door, skin well-worn by the sun and strands spikey and smelling of homosexual tension. The fourty thousand two hundred and eighty six point nine nine stress lines on his forehead and the giant inhumanly gay grin that he flashed at me was very telling of his identity: High Warlock Gordan Geronimo Ramsay. He sauntered in, Chef coat somehow even whiter than his supernaturally gleaming teeth, carrying a plastic tray with both hands. Hip-bumping the door shut like a total homosexual, he shot me a wink- I couldn't help but let my dainty transgender lgbtq+ face flush in embarrassment, and feel little fluttering butterflies tear at the lining of my growling gay stomach.

This man was a Scottish wonder- better than any other.Yes... Even Shrek.

The bed dipped as he sat his sparky ass down beside me, resting the tray on my lap so that I could see the array of food he'd bequeathed to me: a tall bowl of hand-crafted pepperjack saltimboca coco-pops, in goats milk rationalised from the Honduras; a shallow bowl of steamed harissa-infused aoli rice with smoked salmon; a medium depth bowl of all of the jibblets that one could ever dream of, infused with premium haggis and marinated in quails egg sauce; a tall glass of rainbow jelly tea, of which I was certain that my lgbt ears could hear shouting various slurs at me; and, last bur certainly not least, a flat bowl of Mighty Chocolate Cake- something that everyone knew of, a signature of this chef's work on the outside world: This cake was composed of chocolate, the heart of a gay person, the lungs of Jimmy Fallon (he has many), and the tears of soldiers from the Emu War of the olden ages. I was practically drooling, staring down with wide (f slur) eyes that brimmed with tears of thanks.

"This... this looks amazing," I breathed.

Gordon chuckled, leaning back on his strong manly arms. He ran a large hand through his strong, thick, blond hair, his warm blue eyes dancing around the room. He spoke at a measured pace, his words pronounced yet so soft:

"It's nothing. My fuckin mum used to feed me a lot after I'd get fucking ill, I thought you might fucking appreciate it. I hope you don't fucking mind me just assuming what you'd fucking like-"

"Like? Oh god, Gordon, I love! Thank you so much!" I cheered, my (e/c) eyes glowing with glee as I dug into the jibblets. They were warm and gayly oozed jibblet and haggis flavourings.

Gordon ruffled my (h/c) hair and chuckled again, lips seemingly always in a permenant smirk. Maybe he had gotten botox, or maybe it was a spell- I made a mental note to ask later. The silence was filled by my dainty chewing of the food. Yolanda never fed me food like this- all I used to eat was knuckle sanwiches and dust. I glanced up at Gordon, and our eyes locked. I felt my gay face flush in shyness and I gave a small homosexual smile at the man. He seemed to pause- to silently stutter and hesitate- before standing and slowly walking to the door like the gay man he was.

"Wait!" I cried out gayly, causing Gordon to pause in his steps, turning to look at me again. I chewed the last of my food and stood up, now at my uwu dainty height of dainty measurements.

"Who... I didnt realise that Nendou used to be married.... Why is... What...." I struggled to formulate what i was trying to ask, but Gordon seemed to tense and sigh, understanding almost immediately.

"Honestly? That Nendou kid would forget his fucking lamb sauce if it fucking wasn't a part of the fucking recipe," He leaned his back against the door, rubbing his face with a massive hand before continuing.

"And that fucker Gogo- that one was always a fucking strange fucker. Apparently they fucking broke up because Nendou was an idiot sandwich- fucking about with dark magic when trying to make Gogo a fucking fursuit. For fucks sake, Nendou cried for five fucking months. But now you're here and he's fucking stopped. I think the fucking spell made Gogo homophobic as well as a half cat bastard (f slur). I told Nendou to be fucking careful using magic so fucking stupidly. Stupid idiot fucker."

The silence was palpable, my face flushing at his Scottish words. Gordon sighed deeply.

"Sorry. Sorry y/n. I just... I'll let you get back to your fucking food," Gordon uttered, opening the door and half stepping out before pausing in the doorway- his back to me.

"But... y/n... if... If Nendou acts like he loves you... be careful. It'll mean nothing."

Our eyes met again as he turned to stare dead into my rainbow soul, his eyes slightly shadowed by the door and some unforseen gay forces. It was all... very mysterious and ominous. Jarring...

"You're nothing but a rebound to him."

His voice was a harsh whisper, so soft to the ear but so slicing to the soul. I flinched slightly, my e/c eyes looking away and my pronoun button jangling awkwardly. The door clicked shut and I got back to scoffing my buffet of food, though I didnt really want it anymore. I ate and I ate, lost in my thoughts as the rainbow tea screamed slurs at me.