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moodymisty · 2 months

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𝕴 𝖉𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐, 𝖆𝖘 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖙’𝖘 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 Final

Author’s note: It's done! The full fic for the OG Bully Sicarius plotline is now finished. Obviously more in the future is probably inevitable including the love triangle with Titus, but for now we are finished <3

Summary: Cato Sicarius continues to fume over Primarch Guilliman's diplomat, unable to hide his disdain; But neither you or himself are wise to how he truly feels.

Relationships: Cato Sicarius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Degradation, Sexism/misogyny, Choking, Size difference, Toxic relationship,inadequate foreplay, Dubious consent

Word count:

"Lady Diplomat!"

A strong voice outside your small room calls for you by title, before entering just moments later. Your mouth was open to say he could enter, though it doesn't seem you needed to.

"Lord Primarch Guilliman has requested you."

You know the despite the implications of the word request, a request from a primarch is not one you delay or refuse. Containing most of your surprise, you nod and begin to stand up while brushing the front of your clothing straight.

"I'm on my way. Thank you."

The marine leaves now that his duty is done with nary a goodbye- not that you had expected one. You don't mind.

But the walk towards the bridge and thus towards Guilliman's personal study is a long one; A Gloriana class ship like this is more like a city than a ship, in multiple regards. It takes you almost twenty minutes to make your way there, just to make it across less than half of the ship's overall length. It could quite possibly take hours for one person to walk from one end to the other, you think during your monotonous walk.

Guilliman had mentioned once this ship being one of the last of it's kind; The Macragge's honour has served him for more than ten thousand years. A shame so few of it's class remain. To see a Gloriana class is a privilege very few beings outside of the astartes will ever get.

When you reach Guilliman's study, the guards posted just outside let you by without issue. You assume they were already expecting you, or are at least familiar enough with you to know you have reason to see their primarch regularly. As you enter he is already at attention and looking your way- seemingly having heard you well before you actually caught sight of him through the entryway. The door hisses shut as you speak up.

“What do you need of me, Lord Guilliman?”

Guilliman puts down the parchments he was reading with a bit of a fumble- the large gauntlets of his armor aren’t meant for delicate work. He manages to barely contain any audible frustration, but you can see on his face the fumble irritated him.

He's complained to you once before that the Armour of Fate has caused him, issues. More than once he's requested you- with no small amount of frustration and a bit of embarrassment, an emotion unfitting of a primarch - to do things requiring finer motor skill than he is capable of. At least for the time being, he assures.

“I know you already informed me of the effects of your trip to the planet's surface, but I wished to ask you about something tangentially related.”

You step a bit closer, neck already aching from looking up at the full height of a primarch.

“I heard from a few of my men that Sicarius was spotted- it was described to me as quite angrily - walking to your quarters during rest hours. I know that my conversation with him wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but I hope he didn’t further mess up matters. I know he has a habit of doing so with that mouth of his.”

Lying to a primarch feels wrong, shameful beyond belief, but you support yourself and your self worth by saying it's less a lie; Rather just leaving out bits of the truth.

“He did come to my quarters last night, but we... Talked things out.” Guilliman seems noticeably surprised, forehead wrinkling as he raises his eyebrows.

“That is… more than a bit surprising.” You nod and wring your hands. Guilliman's eyes are intently on you, and the feeling it gives you almost seems like it's going to give you a headache.

"It isn't the most amicable understanding," You shift on your heels, and hold in any sign of pain as your hips ache from the night before. Sicarius had really done a number on you. Up until a few hours before Guilliman called you, you still had cum from the night before leaking and staining your underwear, though now only the ache remains.

"But, perhaps we can exist in the same room now without there being issues." Again, leaving out a few important tidbits, but it's not a lie- you tell yourself again.

Guilliman lets out a sigh, though you don't know if it's of relief or something else.

“That is good then. I will send him with you then to your final return to the planet's surface as captain, and I hope that the peacemaking between the both of you holds water.”

You for once have confidence that it will, though perhaps for different reasons than your primarch has.

'Titus has never been anything past cordial. The most he's ever done is pat my shoulder once when I was talking to him. Whatever you saw Cato, it isn't there.'

Sicarius had his typical stoic expression, but you could see it wavered slightly. He looked away from you for a moment.

'I see. Then, perhaps I misjudged you.' He doesn't say he misjudged Titus; Though you know their problems go far deeper than just you. You looked at him with a soft expression as he stood just out of reach.

'But... why didn't you just say something?'

Perhaps in hindsight you should've known that Sicarius would've never spoken to you normally; He was still unnerved by your ascent in stature so close to Guilliman, as well as the fact that despite being well over 300 years old, the aloof marine wasn't in tune with his own emotions. At least not the ones that had no effect on how well he shot a bolter. To expect him to understand he was having romantic feelings for someone was a hilarious thing to even consider.

You take your leave from Lord Guilliman's study with a proper farewell, before you make your way to the same thunderhawk you'd taken previously; To a planet you'll hopefully be seeing for the last time. With the planet successfully annexed into Ultramar, work has been steady to turn it into a spaceport able to handle a large amount of goods needed for Guilliman's war effort.

You're glad it's over, and without wasting too much bolter ammo.

Walking your way to the landing bay you're almost at the entrance when you can see Sicarius walking towards you. You can't help but smile ever so slightly at him, but his face doesn't crack in the absolute slightest.

Sicarius is an Ultramarine paramount; His reputation is of utmost importance. If you watch him, ask him, or question him, you'll never get a hint that there's anything different between the both of you.

'Then...' He thought about everything for a moment, all that's happened in such a short period of time. 'Not a single soul can know about this.'

You would prefer your private affairs be private anyhow, but you knew well that Sicarius has much more riding on this than yourself. You nodded at him.

'I won't complain.'

He noticeably let out a breath of air, his shoulders raising and lowering considerably. Sicarius suddenly turned to look at your door for a moment, almost as if he heard something you hadn't. Though moments later you heard the heavy footsteps of marines; His keener hearing probably caught the sound earlier than your ears could.

'I should leave, then.' You smiled at him, the sweetest one you think you'd even given the man, apart from your first ever meeting.

'Goodnight then, Cato.'

Instead of leaving right away however he came closer, standing at your bedside and raising a hand towards you awkwardly. It hung there for a moment- frozen - before he finally laid it on your shoulder, and leaned to give you a small kiss on the crown of your head.

He left moments after.

Ever since, while he is a master at keeping that neutral, stoic astartes expression, you still see his thoughts leak through; the sad look in his eyes as he’s forced to leave you for even a short while, or the oddly sweet things he'll whisper in your ear moments before someone enters your area. He's changed attitude so drastically, in such a short amount of time. But only in the utmost privacy.

Outside of it you are simply his charge, one forced upon him by Guilliman's demand.

And as such he barely even looks your way as you enter the thunderhawk, sitting down across from him. You look up from your lap moments later when you hear one of the astartes strapped in near you speak in a lighter tone of voice.

The space marines tend to change tone whenever they speak to you, compared to each other; it’s kind of interesting. Sicarius was one of the only marines that didn't do it, even Guilliman does it at times.

"New dress, my lady?"

Ventris says, crossing his arms. You open your mouth, but a voice cuts you off before you have a chance to let a single word leave your throat.

"Do not call her that."

Sicarius looks at his the other marine with firm set gaze and a less than amused expression, clearly leaving no room for Ventris to even consider fighting back.

"She is not your lady, she is your charge."

The freshly scolded marine looks away from Sicarius, and back to you. You could swear the marine rolled his eyes, but you don't point it out, lest you get him in trouble; It will remain your little secret with him.

"It is. And it was fun to be your lady for the moment it lasted, Lord Ventris."

Ventris gives you a light nod before finding something interesting on his bolter to look at, and you turn your gaze to Sicarius and notice the odd expression on his face. But before long it's back to his neutral stoicism.

You suppose he's just jealous by nature. It's fun to prod, though you know doing so will get you in more than a bit of trouble with him the next time he has time to scold you.

The entire trip to the surface of the planet is silent other than that momentary conversation; Sicarius doesn't often let his men casually chatter. Not that they are very prone to it, other than perhaps Titus and Ventris.

Once the thunderhawk is just about to land Sicarius magnetizes his helmet to his thigh, then rubbing a gauntlet against his hair. He addressees his men moments later with a tiresome, dull tone.

"Let us finish this swiftly. I've grown quite tired of this backwater planet."

While the other marines can’t help but agree that this has proven more than boring to them, they’ve proven subtle about it given the planet’s logistical importance. And Guilliman's insistence.

"Negotiations will be finished after this meeting," You say. Sicarius looks to you but says nothing.

He waits until the noise of the thunderhawk's engines cutting blows out most noise, and his men eagerly begin to walk down the rear ramp. Sicarius puts a hand on your shoulder to hold you back from following them and leans down somewhat close to your ear. You can feel the stubble on his jaw scratch against your skin.

"I will be holding you to that, my lady."

You look at him with a displeased face and watch as he leans back upright, returning to his usual stoicism.

That stoicism remains for your entire outing, every single thing goes according to plan, and you return to the Macragge's Honour happy that this whole adventure is concluded.

As you leave the thunderhawk however, a marine approaches you with a piece of parchment that seems out of place in the cold ceramite of his gauntlet.

“Lady diplomat!.” He approaches before stopping, giving the proper acknowledgement to Sicarius who stands beside you, only just a tad closer than what would be deemed appropriate.

Astartes don't have the best understanding of personal space; The perfect excuse.

“Lady diplomat, Primarch Guilliman wrote this and requested this be given to you before he went for his meditation.”

You take it from his hands and begin to read as the ultramarine takes his leave, and Cato watching your expression with keen interest.

I write you this short note because in our short conversation, I had failed to wish you congratulations on your hard earned efforts when we spoke not long ago. You’ve done well for Ultramar, and for myself.

I also wish to tell you that you are a terrible liar.

Keep your relationship with Sicarius subtle, more subtle than it is currently, and out of Ultramarine business, and I will elect to turn the other way regarding it. Merely because it keeps him out of my own hair.

Good luck.

You look away from the message and fold it back up, holding it tightly in your hands. Sicarius raises his voice.

"What?" You look up and give him a nervous smile, and his brow quickly furrows in confusion and a bit of anger at your lack of explanation.

"...What does it say?"

You purse your lips, and debate how to best break the news that his primarch has already figured out that the esteemed captain of Second Company is sleeping with his favorite diplomat.

"Um, I'll tell you later."

#cato sicarius x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting #getting bullied by cato sicarius timeline

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narwhalsarefalling · 3 months

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rey i need ya gen fic bnha recs

congratulations, i have a whole ass collection. but here's some faves. A collection of both oneshot and multichap!

Gauntlet Thrown - pikahlua

Pro hero Katsuki Bakugou has deigned to apply for a teaching position at UA, and the lucky bastard who gets to conduct the job interview is none other than Shouta Aizawa.

Second Chances - amarisllis

Aizawa’s heartbeat is pounding against Katsuki’s ear, so loud and fast that it blocks out everything else. Katsuki’s arms flail, unsure what to do now that he’s being hugged by his teacher who’s never really cracked more than a tiny smile in their presence before. Wha— Oh. Oh, oh shit. Aizawa is crying. “Sensei—” “You were dead.” His voice breaks on the last word. Oh. Shit.

candid - OwlF45

The Commission passes a new requirement for hero licenses: pass a mental simulation. For Izuku, a holder of One For All, this idea ends in catastrophe. A series focused on the simulation, and everything that comes after.

Switchblade - Cacid

"I’m only two minutes late!” Izuku protested. Had he missed the start of an important test? None of the national, standardized tests were supposed to happen this month and even being two minutes late to one of those wouldn’t elicit this sort of reaction. They were discussing their career interest forms today, but that was it. Nothing time-critical was supposed to be happening. “Midoriya, you were reported missing a week ago. No one has seen you for eight days. The police have been combing the city for you.” "I’m sorry. What?” Midoriya Izuku went missing for a week and turned up in a back alleyway with skills he's never even heard of and no memory of how he came by them. He resigns himself to never learning the truth of what happened to him, but he shouldn't waste this chance should he? He could become a hero with reflexes like these. (Russian Translation available)

Razzmatazz - xylophones

Izuku has plans for everything. He plans out what to say to the cashier when ordering coffee, he plans out his homework before even opening his textbook. He has a whole ten-year plan for how he’s going to get into UA’s hero course and get his hero license fully quirkless. He plans for every wild, unlikely scenario he can think of because his anxiety gets so bad if he doesn’t go through every possible outcome, every way his life could landslide into disaster–– but Izuku never planned for this. For once, he doesn’t have a plan and he doesn’t have time to think of one. All he can see is Yagi-san’s lined, kind face looking resigned as he stares down the villain in his shop. Yagi-san, who is the closest thing to a father figure Izuku has ever had. Izuku doesn’t think. He just moves. (Or: Izuku saves the number one hero, gets a hero license way earlier than anyone wanted, realizes that maybe hero society isn’t as great as he thought it was, and everything just kind of falls apart from there.)

third couch is the charm - laurenshappenstobemyhusband

Shouto trained for years to control his ice. Encasing everything in ice whenever he sneezed, got angry or startled, or just whenever he wasn't paying attention always got him into trouble, and he's glad he finally has complete control over his right side. Unfortunately, he can't say the same about his flames. OR: Todoroki sets three couches on fire, which apparently is too many, so now he has to take quirk control classes with Kaminari and they bond over mutual destruction

All's Well - Vexfulfolly

Trigger + Katsuki Bakugou = One hell of a precarious situation OR What it's like to be a walking bomb.

El Manisero - Lila17

"that fic where Sero runs a peanut cartel at UA"

see it all in bloom - aloneintherain

Todoroki said, “It feels like a family reunion.” (Social media fic, counting down the five months to Class 1-A's ten year reunion.)

and i know these don't REALLY count because they're mine, but here's my OWN gen fics that I had a GREAT time writing

And in the forest, I can be free

His prosthetic leg was covered in stickers. Her hands were stained with marker ink in wonderful multicolor. She could color outside the lines. She could color inside the lines. She could color the skin pink or the hair black or whatever color she wished. She could ignore the lines entirely and just draw whatever she wanted. Chiasaki would have never allowed any of this. She doesn’t freeze or feel that horrible feeling in her chest at the thought of him anymore. Instead she only felt... Something else. It was a warmer feeling, one that settled in her gut. It took a few days of this new feeling to be recognized and named- anger. She wasn’t as afraid anymore, that had grown into anger. How could anything in this so-called “sick” place ever be bad? She admires her color-stained hands, the shoes that were allowed to remain dirty, the softness of fresh mud during a rainstorm under her hands. Sand between her fingers, dust wiped away from glass to reveal a view of the forest. Eri doesn’t care if she’s cursed. She doesn’t care if this entire world is covered in little germs that would make her sick. Eri loves it so much. - A look at Eri and her relationship with cleanliness

Within Rime and Reason

1. He reached up to touch the base of his scar. Somehow, without the red hair framing it, it looked almost like a birthmark. Less of a harsh, angry burn scar and more of a memory. He didn’t look like a man with a tragic past, he looked like a boy. If he wasn’t completely blind in that eye, he would almost believe it was one. “You look so manly,” Kirishima breathes. “No,” Todoroki says with a smile. “I look like my mother. I look womanly.” 2. And suddenly so many pieces of the puzzle drop into place. His eye is unseeing. White pupil. Milky iris. With the skin around it poreless and hairless. Easy to cover up with makeup. Oil-less and unmoisturized. Like a scar. Like a burn. “Todoroki,” Mina says softly. The brush she’s holding drops to her lap. “This isn’t a birthmark I’m covering up, is it?” - Todoroki gets a makeover. Emotional conversations happen.

have fun and enjoy!

#bnha #bnha fic recs #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #ask #anonymous #i really really REALLY like switchblade and will rec it at any given opportunity btw #come yell at me when u read that and get to the snowglobes #ALSO IF U GO THRU THE COLLECTION #GO TO THE BOOKMARKS NOT THE WORKS TAB #BC THERES MORE FICS THERE

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catgirltoofies · 5 months

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here's a few dwarf fortress adventure mode tips if you're struggling at all!

1. play a goblin. the mode is unfinished and there's no way to get food except what you start with, so play as a goblin so you don't have to deal with food and water (still need sleep tho). the downsides to playing a goblin, for the record: you're smaller and weaker than the other races. this can make it hard to wrestle things that are large, and makes you very frail under your armor - so don't fight big things without good armor.

2. don't bother with specific weapon skills at the start. my primary suggestions for skills to start with are Novice Reader, so you can read books and/or become a necromancer (if that's your groove) and, importantly, if you don't start out able to read, you can never learn to read. aside from that, my only suggestion is to take at least two levels in Observer. this will let you see how an opponent is attacking so you can counter effectively - you can't parry a dragon's fire breath, but you can block it. back to my initial point - the weapon you start with is not going to be a good weapon, and you should be seeking to replace it as soon as you can.

3. due to how combat works, your first medium-term priorities should be getting ahold of an iron chain shirt, an iron helm, two iron high boots, and two iron gauntlets. this will give you full coverage across your body. for embark, start with a copper chain shirt - cheap and plenty effective for early on, especially against animals. in addition, you want iron or silver weapons, or if your world is more developed, steel. this is why weapon skills don't matter on embark - you're not going to be able to put a ton of points into it anyways, and being a Proficient Swordsman won't help you when you find a masterwork silver whip in the hands of a random goblin.

4. NEVER sleep in the wilderness, if you can help it. you will be attacked and you will be killed. find a nearby civilization that isn't hostile to you, ask anyone in a building for permission to stay the night, and sleep there. you'll be safe from the boogeymen that way, but you're not necessarily safe from random attacks on the village you're staying in. those aren't your fault, though, and are totally random.

(boogeymen no longer attack outside of evil regions, but sleeping in the wilds still leaves you susceptible to predators - not nearly as dangerous, but still a potential threat.)

5. don't interact with elves unless you have a plan. starting in an elf civ has one big disadvantage and one huge potential advantage. elves don't use metal at all, so your only weapon and armor choices will be grown wood, which is an extremely ineffective weapon and armor material. even as ammo, wood is bad. however, if you start in an eleven civ, you have access to giant animal companions. your weapon doesn't matter when you have a giant lion on your side.

6. while in combat, don't be afraid to flee. sometimes you get in over your head. it's important to know when you're in trouble and getting out of dodge before it's too late. most importantly, if you're fighting something that gets cuts in through your armor, you need to leave. if its attacks are stronger than your armor, that means that you can get severed nerves, and those are permanent damage. when you go to the travel map and move a tile, all of your wounds are healed, except for permanent damage - it doesn't matter if you're bruised black and blue and your legs are broken, if you can get to the travel map, all of that goes away. but one single severed nerve in your ankle and you become permanently disabled and need a crutch to walk anywhere, severely hampering your ability to fight. even worse in the arm!

7. train! fight weak stuff before trying to take on strong stuff. run around the woods and chop the wings off of birds. wrestle crabs. get into fistfights with drunks. getting experience from things does not scale with difficulty, only repetition, so it's perfectly viable to pick up a rock and throw it at the floor for three hours and become a legendary thrower capable of splitting open a goblin skull with a hummingbird beak from 30 meters away, or fistfight drunken dwarves for weeks on end to become a legendary striker and punch a dragon's eyes out.

8. for early equipment, scout out camps. there tend to be some nearby any settlement, and the residents might not even be hostile to you! don't pick up everything, just things that are better than the stuff you have. it doesn't currently have an indicator, but carrying too much stuff WILL overencumber and slow you down, which can be deadly in a fight. i look for iron or silver equipment, especially whips. don't take the money, it's useless.

9. what's the best weapon? whips. due to the complex mechanics of combat, whips are basically able to totally ignore armor and simply break bones. secondarily, spear-type weapons are decent against armor, as they can punch through and cause bleeding, while blunt weapons like maces can break bones through the armor. swords and axes are not going to be useful. against unarmored things, though, swords and axes will be much, much stronger - a heavy sword swing can pretty handily sever limbs, which is an EXTREMELY effective tactic, if you can pull it off. blunt weapons will still be able to break bones, but it'll take quite a bit longer to kill an unarmored target with a war hammer than with a greataxe.

10. be patient! both in the game itself, and with the development process. this beta is very incomplete, missing extremely important content like crafting and trading, leaving you somewhat limited in what you can do. they're working on getting it finished, and what's currently available is still a whole lot! as for the game itself - sometimes it's good to take things slow. don't just wildly auto-attack things, sometimes taking a look at your attack options and potential "crits" can create an opening for you to turn a losing battle into a winning one. you can take a step to reassess and get a new accuracy roll if none of your options are good - just be careful not to leave yourself too open to counterattacks!

#dwarf fortress

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jadeazora · 2 months

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A new message from the Masters team is out!

Starting Aug1, you'll be able to invite lono as a Guest to the Trainer Lodge, if you've teamed up with lono & Bellibolt first.

They've made adjustments to improve the Main Story's PML Arc by revising its number of battles, as well as its overall rewards. As a result, you'll now be able to obtain around 15,000 more Gems and get loads of items for training as rewards by completing the PML Arc. (If you've completed it already, it'll just give you the items and gems automatically.)

A Sync Pair Scout will become available for 72 hours only once you complete the Champion Stadium on Normal and unlock Hard Lv. 1 difficulty. This Sync Pair Scout includes Fair-Exclusive Sync Pairs that are available up to Jun16. By using this Sync Pair Scout x11, you can receive lots of useful bonus items for raising up Sync Pairs. If you've already unlocked Hard Lv. 1, the scout will become available for 72 hours once you log in starting July 31, 2024, so please check it out!

New story content titled A Leader's Role, a Challenger's Struggle will be added as the final entry to the Mysterious Stones Chapter on Aug1! Lance trains with Alder and Clair in preparation for a tournament. Once Benga arrives, he tells the three Trainers that they haven't been thru enough! You'll need to have collected a total of 900 Mysterious Stones to unlock this story's area.

Story Event Ultra Beast Meet-and-Greet will begin on Jul31! This event will have a new format. By collecting Event Points as you complete battles, you can obtain various rewards.

Here's their overviews, starting with Elio and Stakataka, a Rock-type Support Sync Pair, with their EX Role being Sprint. One of their Passive Skills raises their Defense and Sp. Def by six stat ranks the first time they use a Trainer move each battle, making them an extremely durable Sync Pair. In addition, they can create Alola Circle (Defensive) by using a Trainer move and create a Rock Zone by using their Buddy Move. On top of that, another Passive Skill of theirs can raise all allies' Attack and Sp. Atk by one stat rank when Elio (Alt.) & Stakataka activate a field effect. Their Ultra Endurance! Trainer move restores all allies' HP by approximately 20% of their maximum HP and applies the Gradual Healing effect to all allies.

And now Selene and Nihilego, a Rock-type Strike Sync Pair. Their EX Role is Tech. One of their Passive Skills can lower all opponents' Sp. Def by two stat ranks and leave them poisoned when they use their Acid Move. Also, their Nihil Meteor Beam Buddy Move gets more powerful the more the target's Sp. Def is lowered, and it can lower the target's Sp. Def by one stat rank when the opponent is poisoned or badly poisoned (combined with their Passive Skill, Sp. Def is actually lowered by two stat ranks). Note that their Buddy Move makes them get ready to attack. Using this move again will cause them to leave this posture and attack all opponents, but when a circle applies to the allied field of play, the preparation period will be skipped and they'll attack right away. They can use their Trainer move to create Alola Circle (Special) too.

The mention a new Legendary Gauntlet, a new Ultimate Battle, and the return of the Sinnoh VA events for mid-August.

Next update/message comes out late-August.

Edit, here is the event schedule:

#pokemon masters #pokemas #trainer selene #trainer elio #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon ultra sm

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scary-grace · 11 days

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Expiation (Chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Even after slaying the High Kingdom's greatest enemy and sparing its people from a terrible fate, Shigaraki Tomura's past crimes make him an outcast in the castle. Still, someone has to attend to him, and that someone is you -- and unlike the maids who came before you, you're not afraid to ask a question. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2

Chapter 3

Since you’re new to this, and Sir Tomura has no squire, Itsuka is kind enough to tell you which pieces of equipment a knight requires for a duel. Gauntlets, vambraces, pauldrons. A breastplate, but Sir Tomura’s is damaged. A shield, but Sir Tomura fights without one. And of course, a sword.

Most knights have auxiliary weapons, less valuable than the named swords they carry into important battles. Sir Tomura has no sword other than Decay, but Itsuka assures you it’s all right – Sir Katsuki intends to fight with his own magic sword rather than an ordinary weapon. You gather up Sir Tomura’s equipment, wrap the sheathed sword in a swathe of fabric to further protect yourself from its edge, and chase after Itsuka, tripping on your skirt with every step.

It’s been raining on and off all day. The training fields are a sea of mud and wet sand, but the walkways and viewing platforms are dry, and the nobility of the High Kingdom is arrayed upon them, peering down into the largest arena. On one side of it stands Sir Katsuki, attended to by his squires and friends. On the other side, attended by no one, stands Sir Tomura.

You’re sure there’s a proper way to get down into the arena, but you can’t see it at first glance, and the need to reach Sir Tomura before Sir Katsuki’s finished arming himself overpowers everything else. You pick a likely spot, squeeze through the railing, and slide and stumble the ten feet or so into the arena. It’s all you can do to keep your grip on your Lord’s armor and weaponry, and keep it out of the mud in the bargain. The sound of it clashing together in your arms draws everyone’s attention, but most importantly Sir Tomura’s. You pick yourself up and hurry towards him.

“I didn’t call for you,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“A squire told me,” you say. Sir Tomura’s eyes narrow. “Did my Lord intend to fight unarmed?”

“If necessary.” Sir Tomura lifts one pauldron and moves to secure it over his shoulder.

He’s slow. You can see that the movement pains him. “Let me,” you say, and he nods once. Once you have the laces firmly grasped, you admit the truth. “I don’t know how.”

“Secure them loosely. Then place the other, connect them, and tighten both.” Sir Tomura speaks so quietly that you can barely hear him, but you follow his instructions to the letter. “Tighter than that. If I must wear them, I’d rather they didn’t slip.”

You pull them tight, the way Lady Nemuri made you pull her corset lacings when you used to wait on her, and Sir Tomura grimaces. “Better. What are you doing?”

“Hiding your laces. He’ll cut them if they’re visible.”

“You’ve seen Sir Katsuki duel before, I take it.” Sir Tomura’s mouth twists disdainfully around his opponent’s name. “Does he have any other endearing habits?”

“He aims for the face,” you say, and curse yourself. “My Lord, your helm –”

“I’d rather my vision was clear,” Sir Tomura interrupts. He’s putting on his vambraces and gauntlets – or one of his gauntlets. The gauntleted hand is too indelicate to accomplish the laces. H holds his arm out, and you slide the second gauntlet into place before tightening the laces yourself. “If you are entertaining notions about serving as my second, stop. I have no need of one.”

“I had no such notions,” you say. Sir Tomura gives you a skeptical look. “I have so little skill in combat that you would be better off with no second at all.”

One corner of Sir Tomura’s scarred mouth pulls slightly upwards. “If you continue to serve me, we will have to remedy that,” he says. He pulls his hand from your grip, flexes his fingers inside his gauntlets, and frowns as you hold Decay out to him. “I told you not to touch that.”

“I was careful, my Lord. It never left its sheath.”

“And it shall not.” King Izuku’s voice rings out from a platform higher than the rest, exactly midway down the field. “Sir Tomura, you may not wield that sword within Castle Ultra’s walls.”

Sir Tomura raises his eyes from the sheathed sword to meet the king’s. “I have no other weapon. Do you mean for me to face your champion unarmed?”

He said he would earlier, but – “Sir Katsuki does not speak for the High Kingdom in his challenge,” King Izuku says. His eyes are clear and hard. “In this castle are weapons of every kind. Any one of them is available for your use.”

“Any of them,” Sir Tomura repeats. Your stomach lurches. “What about that one?”

A shocked, scandalized gasp echoes through the training ground. Sir Tomura is pointing at the king. Sir Tomura is putting King Izuku’s word to the test. The offer of any weapon in the castle includes the king’s own sword, One For All, and no one wields One For All but the rightful ruler of the High Kingdom. Not even King Izuku’s most loyal councilors would dare to ask to hold it, and yet Sir Tomura is demanding it for his own use in a paltry challenge. If King Izuku refuses, he goes back on his word in public, proving that there are some things honor demands which he will not do. Sir Tomura doesn’t repeat the demand, and King Izuku doesn’t answer.

Finally, Sir Tomura laughs, a low, harsh sound that sends chills down your spine. “Your sword would ill suit my hands,” he says. “I will go without.”

“You think I won’t face an unarmed man? Think otherwise,” Sir Katsuki sneers from the other end of the field. “If you choose to fight weaponless, my victory will be even more certain.”

Sir Tomura ignores him. He rewraps Decay more surely than you had done, then catches you by the arm, pulling you towards the edge of the training field and the nearest viewing platform. He looks up and addresses the nobles there. “Does your distaste for me stretch so far that you will not help one of your own out of the mud?”

“I would help were she one of our own or not.” Lord Tenya crouches at the edge of the platform, hands outstretched for yours. “Hurry. Sir Katsuki is unlikely to wait long.”

Sir Tomura says your name, and you glance over to find him forming a step with his hands, ready to help you up. It doesn’t seem at all like the sort of thing a noble should do for a maid, and it crosses your mind to refuse – but then you hear Sir Katsuki’s battle-cry from the far end of the field and step up in a hurry, Decay cradled in the crook of your arm. By the time Lord Tenya has helped you over the edge, the battle has already begun.

You’ve witnessed Sir Katsuki’s duels before. Hard not to, when they occur so frequently. They’re cacophonous affairs, full of war cries and insults and clashes of metal against metal – and, of course, explosions. Explosions are difficult to generate and control with ordinary magic, but Sir Katsuki’s sword Dynamight generates them at will, in the exact intensity he desires. Sir Katsuki’s duels are noisy. And Sir Katsuki’s duels are brief. In the time it takes you to get to your feet again, most are concluded already.

But the battle with Sir Tomura is ongoing, and the battle is silent, other than a strange low crackling that occurs every few seconds. Ordinarily you would have nothing approximating a view, but Lord Tenya hasn’t ordered you away, and he’s at the edge, watching intently. He glances sideways at you, and you freeze, expecting to be banished to the servants’ viewing platform. Instead: “It was not chivalrous of the king to take Sir Tomura’s weapon and allow Sir Katsuki to keep his.”

You stare at him, as much as you can stare while keeping one eye on the field below, where Sir Katsuki has yet to generate an explosion or land a direct hit with his sword. “What other course of action could the king have taken?” Lady Momo murmurs. “Dynamight is a terrible weapon to be sure, but it cannot kill with a single touch as Decay can.”

“Then his Majesty should have removed both weapons.” Lord Tenya’s frown doesn’t fade. “If Sir Katsuki had refused, then we might have dispensed with this an hour ago.”

“My Lord,” you venture, and he looks at you, “may I ask what happened?”

“Indeed you may, as it concerns he whom you serve,” Lord Tenya says. A yes would have served to answer, but you keep your silence rather than saying so. “The council met to address the issue of the borderlands. Sir Katsuki was angered by Sir Tomura’s suggestion that we had sacrificed them deliberately in favor of a more defensible border, and challenged Sir Tomura after Sir Tomura stated that deliberate sacrifice was a more noble motivation for our abandonment than simple cowardice.”

“It wasn’t cowardice,” Sir Ochako says sharply from Lord Tenya’s other side. “We did not know.”

“We did not know because we did not wish to see,” Lord Tenya corrects. He glances down at the training field, frowns, and removes his spectacles, polishing them with a cloth before replacing them on his face. “I am surprised that Sir Katsuki has yet to strike in earnest.”

“He has not had the opportunity,” Lady Momo says. “Sir Tomura moves too quickly for an accurate strike, and Dynamight is not without its limits.”

Too quickly? To your uneducated eyes, your Lord appears to be standing still – aside from quick steps to one side or the other, which seem to cover far more space than they should. You never doubted that the rumors of Sir Tomura’s fighting prowess are true, but this is something else. “It’s magic.”

“Indeed. A most delicate and exacting magic – the brief folding of space, allowing one to traverse more distance than a single step can allow,” Lady Momo says. She’s a skilled magician in her own right. You’ve heard that when she and Itsuka fight side by side, Itsuka protects her from physical attacks while she casts enchantments that shield the king’s soldiers while striking out at his foes. “It is not the sort of magic one would expect the White Death to know.”

“It is a wise strategy,” Itsuka adds. You’re always amazed when squires speak out of turn, but you shouldn’t be. Nobles require much more from their squires than their maids. “Sir Katsuki is frustrated. When he is frustrated, he makes mistakes.”

You’ve seen Sir Katsuki frustrated before, but you’ve never seen him make a mistake. On the field, he lowers Dynamight, its edges smoking. “Damn you, Shigaraki. Why accept my challenge if you don’t intend to meet it?”

“You wish for me to meet it?” Sir Tomura sidesteps, then sidesteps again, appearing well inside Sir Katsuki’s guard. “As you wish.”

A feral grin crosses Sir Katsuki’s face, and he lunges forward, closing the scant distance between himself and Sir Tomura to strike at Sir Tomura’s head with the hilt of his sword. It’s a move you’ve seen him execute a dozen times, but Sir Tomura whips his head sideways to avoid it, then steps closer still. His body is angled, blocking the view from one side of the platform, but you can see it clearly – he’s trapped Sir Katsuki’s arm at its full extension, pinned between pauldron and vambrace. Then he raises the other hand, closes his fist, and brings it down.

Sir Katsuki roars in pain as his arm dislocates at the elbow, and a collective gasp rises from the onlookers, you included. But although you’ve never seen Sir Katsuki wounded, you know better than to think that a single wound will stop the kingdom’s most vicious knight. Sir Katsuki’s right arm is still trapped, but he curls his left hand into a fist and drives it twice into Sir Tomura’s unprotected ribs. Sir Tomura’s body jerks from the impact, but his expression doesn’t change – and you don’t understand. You know your Lord feels pain. You know Sir Katsuki’s blows must hurt. But Sir Tomura sidesteps as smoothly as ever, leaving Sir Katsuki’s arm limp and dangling, Dynamight all but useless at his side.

Sir Katsuki is ambidextrous. He switches Dynamight from his right to his left. “You should have finished what you started,” he spits at Sir Tomura. “Is the White Death so cowardly? Who’s the coward now?”

You don’t think Sir Tomura is a coward, but it’s strange that he retreated – and strange, too, that he’s holding still as Sir Katsuki charges him. There is nothing magical about his sidestep this time, nor about the strike to his torso that he blocks. Still, his expression doesn’t change, and you’re struck suddenly with a realization you can neither explain nor doubt: Sir Tomura doesn’t care about the outcome of this fight. He is not fighting as the White Death is rumored to. He’s barely fighting at all. And even when he’s barely fighting, he’s Sir Katsuki’s equal on the field.

Sir Katsuki swings at him in an overhand chop, and Sir Tomura catches Dynamight’s blade on his gauntlet before the strike can reach its zenith. Sparks fly as he tightens his grip and twists hard, and you hear the blade crack even before the first fault line appears. Faced with losing his sword temporarily or losing it permanently when Sir Tomura wrenches the blade from its hilt, Sir Katsuki chooses the former – but he calls up a final explosion as he’s letting go. The sword flies upwards, leaving both Sir Tomura and Sir Katsuki unharmed.

The explosion carries the sword high into the air, and on the ground, Sir Katsuki and Sir Tomura grapple for the best position to catch it. Sir Katsuki closes the distance between them, trapping Sir Tomura’s arm with his injured one and forcing it upwards, past the angle Sir Tomura would have needed to secure his pauldrons without help. “Fight through that,” Sir Katsuki snarls, and at last Sir Tomura’s expression shifts, “or yield now. I thought the White Death would give a better fight.”

A smile hundreds of times worse than any you’ve seen on Sir Katsuki’s face distorts Sir Tomura’s mouth, and a chill goes down your spine. “As you wish,” he says, and smashes the elbow of his supposedly trapped arm into Sir Katsuki’s face.

Sir Katsuki howls, staggers back. Sir Tomura shoves him the rest of the way without looking, sending him sprawling into the mud. The sword Dynamight plummets towards the ground at last, hilt first, and lands squarely in Sir Tomura’s hand.

It landed in Sir Tomura’s hand, but it’s the White Death who turns to face Sir Katsuki, that awful smile still fixed on his face. Sir Katsuki curses at him. “Dynamight will never bend to your will. You don’t know its true name.”

“I don’t need to bend it to my will to kill you with it,” the White Death says, and Sir Katsuki blanches beneath the mud. “But as it happens, I know its name, too.”

“What?”

“The same name they all share.” The White Death speaks a single word, quieter than the whisper of a shade, and Dynamight blazes to light in his grip. He points it at Sir Katsuki. “Yield.”

Sir Katsuki summons magic – a spear, or perhaps a shield. Whatever it is, the White Death blasts it aside with a flick of the fingers of his free hand. He takes a step closer. “Yield.”

“To a monster like you? Never.”

“Yield.” The White Death closes the distance completely as Sir Katsuki struggles to his feet. He smashes Dynamight’s hilt into Sir Katsuki’s face and knocks him down again. “Yield, or I will defeat you the hard way.”

“Do it, then!” Sir Katsuki says through gritted teeth, as blood flows from his nose. “What are you waiting for, White Death? Kill me and show everyone what a monster you truly are!”

The White Death considers for a moment, and for that moment only, you think Sir Tomura might relent. Then he raises the sword again, an explosion beginning to boil along its length. “When you reach Hell, true knight, tell them who sent you.”

Someone cries out from the crowd for the White Death to show mercy. Someone else curses him. Sir Katsuki’s blood-spattered face is frozen in defiance, his eyes flickering with fear. The White Death’s red eyes are illuminated by Dynamight’s flame, or by some mad light from within, so different from Sir Tomura’s empty, hollow gaze. Even as others beg for him to stop, he aims the growing explosion directly into Sir Katsuki’s face.

“Enough!”

The voice is King Izuku’s, and if he wasn’t already capable of bringing everyone in Castle Ultra to heel in a heartbeat, the fact that he’s thrown down One For All between Sir Katsuki and the White Death would silence all. Where the blade strikes the earth, there’s a brilliant flash of light, and each of the combatants are thrown back by it. Sir Katsuki skids a few feet through the mud and comes to a stop. The White Death, by contrast, is hurled nearly the length of the field, landing hard and sprawling out on his side, mud staining his pale skin and his armor and his hair.

“That is enough,” King Izuku says again. He climbs the railings on his platform and drifts down to the retrieve One For All. “This duel is concluded. The victory is Sir Tomura’s.”

Another gasp from the crowd, and from his place in the mud, Sir Katsuki protests. King Izuku ignores him and looks to the far end of the field. “Sir Tomura, what forfeit would you claim?”

For a long moment, Sir Tomura doesn’t stir. In spite of what you just saw him do, your heart goes temporarily still in your chest, only returning to life once he pushes himself to his knees. “I would claim nothing,” he says, his voice flat like it was when you first came to his rooms. “There is nothing in your kingdom that I want.”

To fail to claim even a nominal forfeit is already a breach in propriety. To reject one so harshly is unheard of, and a disapproving murmur runs through the crowd. “Back to your daily work,” King Izuku orders, and your fellow servants scatter. “Councilmembers, we will adjourn and resume debate in the morning. And someone call a healer. Sir Katsuki has need of one.”

You wait for him to make a similar call for Sir Tomura, but none is forthcoming, and just as Lord Tenya was displeased with the breach in chivalry, so too are you displeased with this. King Izuku ordered the servants back to work, but last night he made Sir Tomura your only task, so you choose another likely spot and slide back down to the training field at your Lord’s side.

His clothes are stained with mud. His shirt is ripped open along his flank by the spikes of Sir Katsuki’s gauntlet, and beneath it, you see bruises already beginning to form. “My Lord,” you say, and he looks up. “I’ll call a healer.”

“No need.” It begins to rain, and Sir Tomura lurches fully upright with a grimace. All traces of the White Death are gone from him. “Show me back to my room and leave me be.”

“Yes, my Lord.” You have the length of the walk to change his mind.

You say nothing, and neither does he, but he does not attempt to banish you again. When you reach his room, you leave him by the armor stand and hurry to the bathing chamber to draw a bath. You set out towels and the collection of soaps and oils you cobbled together based on what you’ve seen while cleaning other knights’ rooms. By the time you’ve finished that, Sir Tomura is out of his gauntlets and vambraces and working on the laces for the pauldrons. The sleeve of his shirt is pulled up and you can see a bruise blooming on his forearm, too. He’s grimacing as he pulls at the laces.

You remember how easily Sir Tomura shook off Sir Katsuki’s maneuver, the one that trapped his shoulder and forced it high, and a question leaves your mouth before you can stop it. “Do you not feel pain in battle, my Lord? I saw you raise your arm without flinching.”

“Pain doesn’t matter to me.” Sir Tomura says that, but once you come forward to help with the laces, he lowers his arm at once. “Sir Katsuki’s maneuver was reckless, and he made it believing that pain would prevent me from making him pay. Do you think I succeeded in breaking his nose?”

“Yes,” you say. “On the second blow, if not the first. He won’t forgive you for that.”

“I neither seek nor desire his forgiveness,” Sir Tomura says. “If there was justice in this world, your kingdom would seek forgiveness from me.”

You remember Sir Tomura alluding to a wrong done to him by the High Kingdom, but you’re unsure whether asking will irritate him, and whether he would answer at all. You have the sense that while serving Sir Tomura you will need to choose your questions carefully. You lift the pauldrons from his shoulders and set them on the armor stand for cleaning later. You’ll have to ask one of the squires how it’s done.

You step back from Sir Tomura and lower your gaze. “I drew a bath for you, my Lord. The water will remain warm as long as you desire it.”

Steam is leaking out of the bathing chamber already. Sir Tomura glances at it. “And where will you be?”

“There are more tasks I must complete,” you say. You’ll need to secure new clothes, first and foremost. “Otherwise I will be present, should you require anything.”

That’s something else you need to find, perhaps before you find new clothes – the tokens personal servants wear, by which their masters can summon them at all hours. You don’t give Sir Tomura the details, and he doesn’t ask for them. He nods and turns towards the bathing chamber, and you take off as soon as he’s looking away.

You find Mei first. Mei has already crafted paired tokens for you and your master, but she’s upset with you for failing to recommend her skills as an armorer, and not at all dissuaded when you tell her that there hasn’t been time. “The man just fought a duel against an armored knight. There’s no better time to discuss his armor,” she snaps. You reach for the wrapped objects she’s holding and she holds them out of reach. “Tell him. Or I’ll pay him a visit myself.”

You know he’s speaking truthfully; Mei is the most fearless person you’ve ever met, and nothing will stop her in pursuit of plying her trade. “I will tell him,” you promise, and she smiles and relinquishes the tokens. You unwrap them and get a surprise. “The colors were chosen just this morning. How did you –”

“The old king stopped by.” Mei shakes her head. “It seems there are there of us interested in the White Death’s welfare.”

Mei’s interest is less in his welfare and more in his armor, but you elect to set that aside for now. You thank her and set off in search of Hakamada. Hakamada has been hard at work. When you arrive at his workshop, he meets you at the door and thrusts a pile of clothing into your arms. “Here. This will do for now. I will have the rest within the week.”

“Thank you,” you say, then cringe. “I mean, my Lord thanks you.”

“I very much doubt that. In any case, thanks are appropriate for you as well – I have included your new uniform,” Hakamada says. You blink. “In your Lord’s newly chosen colors, of course. And since it seems you will be playing the roles of both squire and maid, you will be wearing trousers.”

“Trousers,” you squeak. “I – what?”

“For your Lord’s dignity and your own, whatever remains of both. It’s shameful to see a maid carting around arms and armor through the mud,” Hakamada says. You wonder if he was watching the duel, or if news has simply spread at lightning speed through the castle. “Sir Katsuki was not honorable in his intentions or his conduct. Next time, recommend to Sir Tomura that he not rise to the bait.”

You nod and bow and back up into the wall by accident, nearly dropping the clothes. You manage another set of thanks to Hakamada before setting off again. You’ve spent more time sprinting around the castle today than in all the previous years you’ve dwelt here. It’s unwieldy enough to carry things and run at the same time without the complication of picking up a skirt.

When you get back to Sir Tomura’s room, he’s nowhere to be seen – but there’s a pile of filthy clothes just outside the bathing chamber and steam still billowing out, and if the White Death was wandering the halls naked, you’re fairly certain you’d have heard about it by now. You set the new clothes down on the end of the bed and inspect the old set. The shirt is ruined beyond your ability to mend. The breeches are salvageable, and the belt and boots as well, but all three are in bad shape. The boots in particular. They look like they’re falling apart. You sigh inwardly and add yet another item to the list of things that must be addressed.

But you’ve bothered the artisans of Castle Ultra enough for one day. The boots will keep until tomorrow. You wipe your muddy hands clean on your apron, then turn your attention to dusting out the wardrobe. Clean clothes won’t be much use to Sir Tomura if you store them in a place that’s coated in cobwebs and dust.

You’ve almost finished both the dusting and the storing of the clothes when Sir Tomura calls out from within the bathing chamber. It startles you badly to hear your name in his raspy voice – until this moment, you’d forgotten that he knew it. You calm yourself with an effort. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Bring me a knife.”

A sharp jolt of fear runs through you. “My Lord?”

“You heard me,” Sir Tomura says. He sounds rough, frustrated. “Beneath the mattress, on the right side. Now.”

You go to investigate, moving on shaky legs, and discover the knife. No magic radiates from it; other than its hilt, crafted to resemble clasped hands and interwoven fingers, it’s completely ordinary. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, before you make your way into the bathing chamber. Why does Sir Tomura need his knife in the bath? You’re about to find out.

When you part the clouds of steam, however, you find nothing out of the ordinary occurring. Sir Tomura sits in the raised basin, the water deep enough that only his head and shoulders and the tips of his knees when he draws them up are visible. Another man might look relaxed, but your Lord looks uncomfortable and angry. He’s wrestling with his long white hair. As you come closer, you see for the first time that it’s full of knots.

He doesn’t look at you, but he extends his hand for the knife. “Give it here.”

You hold it out in response, but you’re hesitant, and Sir Tomura notices. “What?”

“Do you intend to cut your hair, my Lord? I can summon a barber, or find some shears.”

“I need no help.” Sir Tomura frees his fingers from the knot they’re trapped in with a sharp yank, one that has you wincing, too. “I will do it myself. I should have done it –”

He curses, and although you shouldn’t speak, you find yourself – once again – opening your mouth. “If you untangle it first, it’ll cut easier. And look cleaner, in the end.”

“Untangle it,” Sir Tomura repeats. “You see how well that has gone.”

“I can help,” you say. Sir Tomura looks up, eyes wide – shocked, or maybe affronted. You’re unsure which, and you can’t withdraw your offer. “If you would like, my Lord.”

He continues to stare at you, and you wonder if what you’ve offered is really so strange. When you waited on noblewomen and lady knights, they often expected help with their hair, in the bath and after. It’s not so different. If you set aside your Lord’s monstrous nature, and the fact that he’s your Lord and not your Lady, there are very few differences at all. After a long hesitation, Sir Tomura gives a curt nod, and you kneel alongside the basin. “Wet your hair first.”

“I tried that.” Sir Tomura sinks beneath the surface again regardless, then sits up. “Now what?”

You uncork one of the vials of oil and empty it over your hands. “I thought you intended to use magic,” Sir Tomura says warily. “You do not fear to touch me?”

“My magic doesn’t work that way,” you say. You reach out slowly towards him. “May I, my Lord?”

He nods again. You lift a section of his hair, one containing several knots, and run your oil-slicked hands over it before beginning to tease the knots apart from the ends and upwards. “You did not answer me,” your Lord says from where he sits with shoulders stiff and back hunched. “You don’t fear to touch me?”

“I touched you yesterday, my Lord.”

“Yesterday you had not watched me fight.”

The smaller knots come undone easily, if not quickly. You’re moving with the utmost care to avoid pulling even slightly. “My Lord expected the duel today to change my opinion?”

“Yes.” Sir Tomura’s voice hardens. “If you cannot give me a reason, you are simply addled, and I will dismiss you in favor of someone in their right mind – or no one at all.”

“I know little of fighting,” you say. Little about the mechanisms, the maneuvers and exercises, at least. “But I know a little of honor, and it was not honorable of King Izuku to bar you from using your sword, nor of Sir Katsuki to attack an unarmed man.”

“I was far from unarmed.”

“The nobles I observed with were impressed with your skill,” you say. “Some of them agreed that the duel was not conducted honorably. And it seemed –”

You trail off, fingers working mindlessly through Sir Tomura’s hair. “What?” he demands. “Speak.”

“It seemed you did not care about the outcome of the duel,” you say. “Not as your opponent did. At least not at first. Once you did, it was different.”

“Yes,” Sir Tomura says. “My opponent, in spite of an advantage in arms and armor, chose to strike at a perceived weakness. He did not fight with your oh-so-precious honor. It freed me from my self-imposed obligation to do the same.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “The High Kingdom wished to see the White Death. I simply gave them what they wanted.”

You haven’t heard Sir Tomura speak his own epithet before. His voice is bitter, mocking, cruel, and it leaves no space for a response. You continue to work your fingers through his hair, smoothing out the tangled section, then reaching up to his scalp, checking your work along the length of the strands. Once you’re sure, and you’ve tucked it away over his shoulder, you pick up another set of knotted strands and get to work once more. You try to get your thoughts in order in the bargain.

“You have yet to answer my question,” Sir Tomura says after a little while. Another bruise is darkening on his shoulder. “Why are you still here?”

You have an answer for him, maybe. “May I speak freely?”

“I am not some highborn fool. You do not need my permission to speak.” Sir Tomura’s voice crackles with frustration. “You do not need theirs, either. If you continue to serve me, you will speak to me as you would speak to those you consider your equals.”

The idea of speaking casually to a noble makes you anxious, but you choose your words carefully as a rule. Perhaps this is not so different. “My Lord, I do not doubt your past deeds, good and bad.”

“More bad than good.”

“That said,” you continue, smoothing out more strands from scalp to end, “I think that a man who was nothing more than the White Death would not have spent the first half of an unfair fight behaving otherwise.”

Sir Tomura makes a discontented sound. “Perhaps I was simply denying my true nature.”

“If it was your true nature, my Lord, you would feel no need to deny it.”

Sir Tomura says nothing in response, and you come to a knot that’s a true struggle to untangle. Your own thoughts are sorting themselves out slowly, and you share them as they go. “A person can be more than one thing at a time. Sir Katsuki is a valiant defender of the high kingdom and a cruel man. King Izuku is a kind man, and still dishonorable in his conduct if it will smooth his way. Most people are many things, all at once.”

Part of the knot comes loose, but the other is even more tightly wound than before. “I believe you are the White Death, my Lord. I do not believe that is all you are. Have I answered to your satisfaction?”

“Yes,” Sir Tomura says. “I am convinced that you are not mad. At least no more than I am.”

A small flare of triumph blooms in your chest, even as you give up the fight against the second half of the knot. “This piece is more than I can undo. May I cut it?”

“And any others you find.” Sir Tomura raises one hand from the water, grasps the sheath, and holds it steady as you draw the knife. It’s sharp enough to sever the strands neatly an inch above the knot, and a twist of matted white hair falls to the floor. “Cut it all, if you choose.”

“Is there a reason you chose to grow it out, my Lord?” You spill another vial of oil over your hands and begin untangling the newly cropped strands of hair, beginning at the scalp this time. “I only ask because long hair is more difficult to manage than short, and with a helm involved –”

“I fought without a helm more often than not.” Sir Tomura’s head tips ever so slightly back against your hands and you freeze. You don’t know if he even knows he’s doing it. “What would you suggest I do with it?”

Your chest feels tight. You don’t know why. “I will have more of an idea once I know how many more knots must be cut out,” you say. Sir Tomura nods. “Do I have your leave to continue?”

“If I’ve given you leave once, continue the task until it is complete or until I tell you to stop.” Sir Tomura glances at you over his shoulder. “That you feel the need to ask my leave for breathing in my presence speaks poorly of the freedom your realm is famed for.”

You nod and go back to your task rather than admit the truth – you’re more deferential to him than you’d be to anyone else, simply out of fear of arousing the White Death’s infamous rage. But now it seems that you’re more likely to irritate Sir Tomura with continued deference than by speaking your mind. You have no response to Sir Tomura’s statement, so you don’t waste your breath, and eventually he turns away again, staring off into space as you continue to untangle his hair.

It’s a slow process, made slower through pauses to add more oil to your hands and pauses to cut free the knots you can’t untangle and the fact that Sir Tomura’s head continues to tip backwards into your hands while you work. At first it confuses you, but then you notice that he’s no longer sitting hunched, that his shoulders aren’t quite so tense. He’s relaxing. He’s relaxing for you.

No. You push the thought aside at once. Baths are relaxing. Being tended to is relaxing. You’re incidental. You could be anyone. Any of the five maids who fled from him, any of the squires who refused the role. Sir Tomura fought a duel today against the kingdom’s fiercest knight and won. Relaxing now is a natural response. It has nothing to do with you.

But something catches in your thoughts when you consider the duel, something that slips to the forefront of your mind. “My Lord, when you bent Dynamight to your will, you said that all swords bear the same name.”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“I suppose you should know, if ever you should need to turn one aside.” Sir Tomura leans back against the side of the basin, looking up at the ceiling. “The true name of any weapon is Death.”

He speaks the name in the language of magic, and a shiver runs through you. You know only a few scattered phrases – your own magic requires none – but it’s impossible to mistake words of power when you hear them. “Repeat it back to me,” Sir Tomura says, and you stumble through the syllables. Match my inflection. Death.”

“Death,” you say hesitantly, and Sir Tomura nods. “My Lord, what sort of magic is this?”

“It’s not dark magic, if that’s what worries you,” your Lord says. “Dark magic is not the only magic without mercy.”

That’s not difficult for you to believe. Alchemy is a kind of magic, too, and you’ve seen how cruelly it can be wielded. You go back to your work, this time evening out the length of the strands you’ve untangled to match the spots where you had to cut knots away. It’s not until sometime later, when you’re setting out towels and bringing in a set of clean clothes, that it occurs to you that you’ve forgotten something.

You dither for far too long over whether to speak, then decide that late is better than never, and throw it over your shoulder as you scurry for the door. “Thank you for the lesson, Sir Tomura.”

“Save it for when it counts,” Sir Tomura says. He has yet to rise from the bath. Instead he’s running his hands through his hair, first one hand and then the other. You wonder if he’s displeased. “And to you in turn, for – this.”

Nobles don’t often thank their servants. Acknowledging a job done well is not the same as offering thanks, as thanks implies that whatever service was provided was more than expected. But you’re learning quickly that you cannot treat Sir Tomura the way you would treat another noble. Telling Sir Tomura not to thank you will provoke frustration. So instead of accepting or refusing, you bow your head. “It was my honor.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #fantasy au #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 11 months

Text

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 3 - 3.7K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

_________________

“Are you sure? No shame in staying behind.” Shadowheart said as she adjusted the last strap on the dark justicar armor she lent you. She looked concerned and wary.

“I’m sure, like you said, we are just going to a cemetery to talk to Raphael then come back. Sounds easy enough.” You shrugged. No wonder everyone’s movement in the game was limited, armor is heavy as shit.

Shadowheart paused, “How did you know it’s Raphael? I only said we had a devil to see…” she trailed off.

“Oh, umm…. With what you’ve told me this sounds like a Raphael thing… he has a certain flare for the dramatics that’s hard to miss.” You deflected trying so hard to sound casual.

Shadowheart hummed but you could tell she was… suspicious. Before you could spiral into an anxious heap, Astarion walked swiftly between the two of you. Hitting your shoulder unnecessarily he said “Are we going to stand around all day coddling them or shall we go?”

He always looked so pissed to be in your general vicinity and you noticed it more and more since the night you showed the group your phone. It had been a week since then, you worked with everyone to build your skills up. Everyone was pretty comfortable around you as of late, Karlach even going as far as to say she trusts you. So why was he the exception? You hadn’t done anything negative towards him? Was he upset about his reflection? Maybe you shouldn’t have sprung that on him? Whatever it was, it was making you both anxious and annoyed.

Truth be told, you were still kinda new to playing Baldur's Gate III in your world. The last save you remember was finishing the last trial in The Gauntlet of Shar. You just hope your limited knowledge might be useful somehow. You have to be mindful however. Little slips like the one with Shadowheart, showcasing that you knew more than you let on, could cause unexpected consequences. You had a few similar slip ups throughout the week but were thankfully able to brush them off. And you still had no idea how to tell them about you, the real you. You decided to keep it hidden for now, and when somebody inevitably asks you’ll tell them all.

——————————

You stepped through the portal with Astarion, Karlach, and Shadowheart. It left your body tingling for a moment. You looked around and vaguely recognized where you were. It’s definitely the Shadow Cursed Lands. The building in front of you looked abandoned but everything in the lands looked abandoned. You started walking forwards to the door of the building. You don’t remember anything bad here from your gameplay. The doors opened and you saw the first person outside of your little jolly group of misfits. She looked like a nurse and didn’t appear to be hostile. The others walked behind you as you slowly walked towards her. She was dipping a sponge into a basin of bloody water and cleaning the leg of a corpse. There were two of them actually. Both dead on separate beds, arms outstretched towards each other.

“The doctor is quite busy today… you may wait in line to be seen.” The nurse said.

“Why are you cleaning corpses, surely there must be something better to do.” Astarion said, typical sass in his voice but also confusion.

“Corpse? They’re merely sleeping…” she said softly, continuing to clean.

“Mmmmm no, those are definitely dead.” He responded, tapping the lid of a nearby jar.

The nurse turned to look at Astarion. “Perhaps I should turn my services elsewhere?” She said dropping the sponge back into the bowl. She pulled out a bone saw and started walking towards him. His eyes widened.

“Sister, look…” you said, pointing towards the bodies. Her head instantly snapped away from Astarion.

“Oh sister they’ve been so well tended to. They sleep like angels. They must be so grateful.” You said, eyeing Astarion as if trying to tell him to back up and shut up.

She dropped the bone saw, grabbing your hands. They were cold and shaking. “Truly? These hands… the doctor must be notified of all patient improvements.” She said starting to walk towards the center of the house where a heavy closed door laid.

“Wait!” You said quickly.

She looked at you, head cocked to the side.

“Your patients will wake soon. Who is lovelier to wake up to than their doting nurse? You stay, I’ll notify the doctor.” You smiled at her.

She shook her head vigorously, “Right, they need me. The doctor is in surgery right now… wait for him there.” She pointed at the large door before grabbing the sponge from the bowl. “Take these will you?” She asked, dropping two rings in your hands. Shadowblade rings. They were Arabella’s parents.

You pocketed them quickly and thanked the sister before silently backing up and walking away.

“Is that your talent? Comforting deranged nurses?” Astarion jabbed.

You elected to ignore him, not feeding into his negativity.

You walked into the operating theater. The doctor had just removed a man’s eyes, the sisters cutting him randomly and harshly. Your eyes widened and you fought the urge to throw up. Seeing this in a game and in real life we’re vastly different and this was insanely more disturbing.

Your foot hit some debris on the floor, notifying everyone of your existence.

“Are you here to aid in surgery? I asked for an attending hours ago…” said the doctor, flinging the man’s eyes off into a corner of the room.

“Yes… of course doctor my apologies.” You detach yourself from your group. The man on the operating table whimpered and whined. His throat was all raw from the endless screaming you imagined. You walked closer to the man. The doctor handed you one of the nurses knives.

You took it gently, the man continued to struggle against his confines. You looked at your companions, they looked at you with just as much anxiety as you felt.

“Be ready” you mouthed to Karlach. She nodded, your companions slowly moving into different locations.

You looked to the doctor who was holding a bone saw. You weren’t exactly in the *best* spot for a battle to start. Let alone your first battle. Let’s just hope somebody likes you enough to give Withers a little gold if the worst happens.

You swiftly plunged the knife into the doctors throat, shoving the nurse next to you as you grabbed your sword. Lae’zel gave you The Cruel Sting for your first time outside of camp, bless her angry ass. You swung at the nurse on the opposite side of you, the sword ensnared her. The nurses spread out, your companions taking them on. The doctor turned his focus to you. “Petulant child…” he said before knocking you on your back, he held his bone saw under your chin. “Don’t fret, I’ll be sure to cure you of your…. Affliction.” He laughed while tapping his head.

You held your arm up just in time for the bone saw to clatter against your armor. Karlach shot her bow at him as soon as she saw you on the ground. The air stunk of drow poison and that seemed to be enough to turn the doctors attention. You scurried off the ground, driving your sword through him as he faced away from you. Karlach hit him with a reckless attack and the doctor dropped to the ground, finally dead. The hall was quiet except for everyone’s heavy breaths.

You smiled at Karlach, impressed with yourself. The smile quickly faltered as you looked down and saw one of the nurses blades in between the metal plates of your armor. Karlach immediately turned and struck down the dying nurse. Shadowheart turned you quickly and pulled the knife out. You screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the theater. She spoke a healing spell over you, but her brow drew up in confusion.

“It’s not working.” She whispered.

“The fuck do you mean it’s not working? Fix it!” You yelled. You could feel the blood seeping through the different parts of your armor. Down your stomach, over your thighs…

“I’m trying!” She yelled back, rattling off another spell.

Karlach popped open a potion of healing, she grabbed your face and tilted your head back forcing the bottle to your lips. It tasted like wine; you could feel it envelop your body. As if it were coursing through you seeking out pain. You felt it stitch your wound together sloppily. You cried in pain as it felt like fire putting you back together. You lifted your armor, the wound was partially healed but that would have to do until you got back to camp.

Karlach and Shadowheart asked if you were ok, sympathetic as they both know battle is new to you. Battle wounds are common but you never forget your first.

“Your first battle scar! Congrats soldier.” Karlach said, trying to lighten the mood.

You blubbered out a chuckle, readjusting your armor.

“I’m sorry we were here to see Raphael, yes?” Astarion said walking out to the graveyard without the rest of you.

You sighed and began walking, doing your best not to grimace.

———————-

Everyone listened intently to Raphael. He told Astarion everything you already knew. You had zoned out a bit, hand ghosting over your wound every few minutes.

“And you…” Raphael said in a sultry tone, looking you up and down like a meal.

You closed your eyes desperately wanting to disappear. Of course the devil would know you weren’t of their world.

“Different aren’t you?” He said grabbing your hand, a swift prick to one of your fingers had you snatching your hand back. Raphael dipped the nail into his mouth, swirling your blood on his tongue.

“Mmmm, very different. You’re not from here are you? Strange that you ended up with this lot. You’re far more valuable elsewhere. Have you told your new friends about you? What do they really know and what do you hide?” Raphael smiled as he looked at the others.

They all had their eyes on you. Leave it to the devil to make it sound like you were trying to infiltrate their party.

“Stop.” You whispered at him, the tone of your voice begging him.

“No matter. I’ll see you in time, pet.” Raphael gave you a final smile before snapping his fingers and disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

“And you lot thought I was just being mean. If the devil says they can’t be trusted, what more is to be said?” Astarion asked aloud.

You winced again as your wound stung against the armor. Karlach moved towards you. She grabbed your arm gently, looking at the new red spreading through the cloth under your armor.

“We need to get back.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, flat and unwavering.

Everyone silently went through the portal back to camp.

————————

Gale patched up your wound so you could finally walk around comfortably. Happy to have the armor off of you, you walked to the campfire and began prepping dinner. Everyone else had gone to the stream to bathe or had retreated into their respective tents. You could tell that tonight may very well be the night you have to tell them all your secret. Why not soften the blow with some food?

You made them Baldurian mash since it was all you could think of given your limited ingredients. You set up bowls and spoons and different bottles of liquor for everyone. Just in time, you saw them all trudging up the hill in their night clothes. Everyone looked at you with doubt and caution.

Great.

Everyone smelled the food and silently made their way to the bonfire before dishing themselves their food and drinks. Before anyone could get a bite down Astarion yelled.

“Wait!” He jogged over to the fire.

“Are you sure we should be eating the food of someone who Raphael just told us was hiding things that seem to be of great importance?” He eyed the food and then you.

You scoffed thinking he was joking, and yet nobody took a bite.

You looked around, none of your companions meeting your eyes.

“I may have secrets but I don’t mean any of you harm…. You all are the closest thing I have to friends… I’d never hurt any of you.” You said, voice small but strong.

Astarion laughed, “Sounds like something somebody would say who is trying to kill us. Why else would you make all this?”

That’s it, you’ve had enough of fangs and his attitude towards you. You stood and took a large bite of the mash before taking a swig out of every open alcohol bottle.

“Proof enough for ya?” You asked, shoving past him. “I made all this because I wanted to be helpful. I want to be helpful because you all are my friends. I trust all of you even if you don’t trust me. So how about it fangs? Am I ok to stay or do you have anything else you wanna throw at me?”

Astarion could see the anger in your face. “Let’s just hope your culinary skills are better than your battle skills.” He said walking past you, shoving your shoulder with his.

Astarion expected the sniffle he heard from you.

“Astarion?” You asked.

“What?” He tutted, turning to face you.

What he didn’t expect was the punch that landed square in his face.

“Shit!” You immediately recoiled your hand, already feeling the bruising on your knuckles. You shook your hand out before saying your final piece,

“I have secrets it’s true. And I am happy to tell them to you as soon as I figure out how. But I don’t want to hurt any of you…”

“Excuse me?” Astarion said as he held his bleeding nose.

“Zip it! You have been nothing but spiteful towards me since I got here. I don’t know what your damage is with me but we need each other like it or not. We all need each other. I will fight for you all just as you fight for me. Whatever side you’re on, is the side I’m on.” You finished. Everyone looked at you with wide eyes, occasionally glancing at Astarion and his busted face.

Karlach stood and marched herself over to you. If this was the end for you at least it was Karlach taking you out, it’ll be a quick death. She held out her hand and you apprehensively took it.

“Who amongst us doesn’t have a secret or two? I trust them and their intentions after seeing them outside the camp today. Y/N, you have my support and my trust.” Karlach said.

You couldn’t help but tear up and engulf her in a hug. Thank god she had already had her tune up or it would have been a very short, scorching hug. She only faltered for a moment before hugging you back.

“Enough with the doom and gloom Astarion. Please come eat, it smelled heavenly.” Karlach asked, walking back to her bowl and taking a bite. This seemingly put everyone at ease, everyone starting to eat and drink. Everyone sent you soft smiles or nods of approval as if to finally say “welcome, you’re here to stay.”

Astarion picked up his pride and went to hunt. He was so sure he could turn them against you enough to at least abandon you. Why did you have to be so damn sweet and honest with everyone? He knew he deserved that punch but it didn’t make him want you any less.

You grabbed a bottle of Ithbank before heading to your tent for the night.

————————

You awoke hours later. The camp was quiet except for a groan you heard. You sat up, it sounded like it was coming from the stream. Getting up you wore nothing but your large untied shirt and underwear. You crept over to the hillside. You saw Astarion with his shirt off splashing water onto his shoulder. The night was dark but you could see his hand was covered in blood. Punched or not, you wanted to help him. You slunk down the hill, thankful the riverbed rocks were smooth under your feet.

“May I?” You said.

“Gods! Don’t do that!” He winced. “I don’t want your help.”

“But you need it, you stubborn jackass.” You said, grabbing his hand and marching him back to your tent. You sat him on your bedroll before grabbing a cloth and pouring some water from your canteen on it. You gently pressed it to the slash on his shoulder.

“Care to tell me what happened?” You asked.

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Looking to get punched again?” You said, quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes as he tried to stifle the hiss he had to let out from the pain.

“We could be friends ya know. If you weren’t out to get me for some unknown reason.” You said with a tinge of sadness to your voice.

“And why would I want to be your friend?” He asked.

“I’m smart, funny, attractive….” You smiled as you listed.

He let out a chuckle, “Might want to add vain to the list.”

“Seriously though, why don’t you like me?” You asked, setting the cloth aside and going for some bandages you had in your camp pack.

“I don’t trust you there’s a difference.” He said, looking at the ground.

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person and I respect that, but everyone deserves a chance. Have I done anything to make you mistrust me?” You finally looked into his crimson eyes. They were beautiful. Shiny like rubies and a deep crimson like blood.

“You punched me in the face.” He said, meeting your gaze.

“You deserved to be punched in the face.” You said, starting to wrap the gauze around his torso and shoulder.

“Perhaps.” He conceded.

You noticed a small cut to his cheekbone. Raising your hand, you ran your thumb under it. You grabbed the cloth you used to clean his wound and brought it to his cheek, dabbing softly at the dried blood. He caught your wrist in a soft grasp. You looked at each other, neither moving. The air around you felt thick. Thankful for the dim light from the bonfire, you were sure you were blushing unintentionally. Astarion softly pressed a delicate kiss to your wrist.

“Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.” He sounded so sincere. You smiled and thumbed over his cheek one last time before pulling your hand back to yourself.

The more you looked at him the more you noticed his sunken eyes, his slim cheeks, the aches that plagued him.

Hungry

You jumped back a little not expecting to hear voices and feel a wriggle in your head. Astarion’s eyes flitted to yours, “You’re hungry aren’t you?” You asked in a whisper.

“I didn’t drink as much as I would have hoped to… the bear apparently didn’t like fangs in it.” He said, gesturing to the bandaged gash.

You pondered it for a moment. On one hand, he had been a massive cunt to you since you arrived and had punched him a few hours ago. On the other hand, he just let you patch him up and even thanked you for it.

“If you want… you could feed off me? If it would help?” You asked, looking between his eyes and the ground, fingers picking at each other nervously.

“You would do that for me?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“See? I’m not so bad after all.” You smiled as you pulled your laces at the top of your shirt loose revealing your neck, shoulder, and the top of your chest.

He gulped and looked at your beautiful skin. He was hungry but he knew he’d have to repay you. He pulled you to him by your waist, planting you in his lap, straddling his hips. You knew what he was doing, what he was thinking.

“Astarion, stop. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me… I’m doing this because I want to help you.” You said, shifting yourself to sit next to him instead of on him.

He gave you a soft smile, “Apologies. I’m used to giving myself as payment. Old habits die hard I suppose.”

You nodded, knowing his history and not wanting to trudge up bad memories. You leaned against the tree trunk next to your bed roll, exposing your neck to him.

Astarion licked his lips subconsciously. His breath against your neck made you shiver. He kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder before sinking his teeth in. It felt like getting an IV needle shoved into your throat. The pain was quick, the feeling of blood being sucked out of you was what felt odd. Warm fluid being sucked out rapidly. He must have been hungry.

After a minute you gently pushed against his chest. He snapped back to reality, pulling back and resting his head against your shoulder while licking up the little blood that spilled from the punctures. His breath was heavy and so were his eyes.

“That was amazing…” he whispered.

You sat up a bit, pushing Astarion back. “Glad my blood is acceptable.” You joked, pulling your shirt back on properly and tightening the laces.

It was beyond acceptable. It was… heavenly. It was beyond anything he had tasted or smelled before. It tasted sweet. Like the richest chocolate. It coated his tongue and he already wished for more. His gaze was glazed over, perfectly happy. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

You watched him. He was beautiful, truly. The feeling of arousal that shot through you while he drank made you feel awful. You knew his backstory and you knew he was in no position to do anything sexual. You focused on slowing your heartbeat down in hopes he wouldn’t hear it.

He gently took your hand before kissing your wrist again, “Thank you. This was a gift, I won’t forget it.” He nodded before getting up and heading back to his tent. “Goodnight.” You heard him say faintly.

You smiled as you laid down, happy that you two reached a truce. Maybe he needed a bit more care than the others, and you were happy to provide it. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a certain pale elf.

Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I hope to hear from you all in the comments or in my DM's. I really wanna try and write a few drabbles for y'all. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

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maiko-san · 1 year

Text

Pitaya Dragon Cookie x MH! Reader

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Continuation of Pitaya Dragon Cookie x MH! Reader. I forgot to mention, the reader is female.

- (C/n) = Cookie Name

You and Pitaya Dragon cookie became close friends!

You didn't mind the dragon coming to you for a battle, to you it will hone your skills since the dragon always comes up with new battle tactics in order to defeat you.

Sometimes you win, sometimes they win and sometimes it ends up in a draw.

"You've become sssstronger but don't think I won't too, my little hunter~" Pitaya Dragon purred with a smirk on their lips.

'My little hunter' is a nickname that they have given to you.

You've set up your camp close to Pitaya Dragon's lair, so it would be easier for you to study the dragon whenever you want.

Pitaya Dragon would always come by to grab the food that you had cooked and would always hoard the entire table for themselves. Much to your dislikes.

You didn't let the dragon eat all the food and both of you would wrestle each others for a piece of jelly meat.

"It'ssss mine! Get one yourssself!" hissed the dragon as you push their face away. "Hah! As if! I hunt the boars and the meats are mine!" you barked, shoving the jelly meat into your mouth.

There are times they would crash into your tent and steal your bed, saying that it's theirs now.

You would end up sleeping in a sleeping bag or a hammock, but not everything is safe from the dragon's clutches.

Whatever you own, it is theirs too.

It pisses you off at first but you get used to it eventually.

Also both of you would take turns hunting, each time Pitaya Dragon hunts they would bring back a mouthful of animals or fish. But sometimes, you need to get them in control when it comes to hunting.....

"Look what I've brought back!" they said proudly with a mouthful of sheep.

"Pitaya Dragon Cookie! Put the sheep back where you found them!" you shrieked at the sight of a five sheep and a shepherd dog in their mouth, obviously they took them from the nearby field. "Why?! They're foood! Don't tell me what to do! I am the great red dragon! I eat whatever I ssseee asss food!" Pitaya Dragon argues back.

Pitaya Dragon would do all kinds of shenanigans to pull on your strings and surprisingly you manage to keep them in check.

Then one day....

"Pitaya Dragon Cookie! Come out here now!" a voice boomed, two cookies comes out from the bushes. A pink cookie wields a heart shaped shield while the other has a silver gauntlet.

Pitaya Dragon then smirked widely. Dropping all the sheep on the ground, you caught the five sheep and the dog in your arms. "Oof—Pitaya! Careful!" you yelled at the dragon only for the dragon to walk over you and ignoring your call.

"Your highness, look! Not only did they steal the sheep but also a maiden!" shouted the cookie with the silver gauntlet.

"Hollyberry cookie~ Are you here for a fight?" grins Pitaya Dragon, Hollyberry Cookie? The Queen of the Hollyberry kingdom? Pitaya Dragon told you about her and they have been battling each other for ages.

"Give back the sheep you have stolen, Pitaya Dragon cookie!" shouted Hollyberry, "Not only that, but you also kidnapped a maiden!" she glares. "Well, actually your highness! I'm—hey!" before you are able to finish, Pitaya Dragon sets their tail down blocking you from sight.

"If you want the sssheep back, you have to fight me!" said Pitaya Dragon cookie, "I've been itching to fight you again, Hollyberry Cookie!" Pitaya Dragon let out a roar, causing you to back away slightly. The sheep and the dog jump out from your arms and flee into the bushes in fear.

You watch in awe as the two change blows, Hollyberry cookie uses her shield to block the fiery flames of Pitaya Dragon before bashing her shield against their snout. You were too focused watching the fight and you felt someone tapping your shoulder, it was the cookie with silver gauntlet.

"Miss, please. Come with me" he said, "Huh?" before you could say anything. The cookie lifts you up in bridle style and sprint, "H-hey! Who are you?!" you said. "I'm Wildberry Cookie, don't worry. You are safe from the lizard's clutches" he said with a smile on his face.

"Save me....?" you blink as you shake your head, "A-ah, I know you're being such a gentleman but I am not in danger" you said, the cookie raises an eyebrow at your statement. "Pardon? What do you mean?" he was confused.

"Well....." you explain to him that you're a hunter that's doing research on Pitaya Dragon. Wildberry eyebrows twitch, "That lizard is vile, you cannot trust them" he warned. "Huh? Pitaya Dragon isn't vile, they can be prideful and mean sometimes..." you mumbled before turning to Wildberry Cookie. "—but they're actually really nice when you get to know them more!" you smiled.

Wildberry Cookie couldn't help but look at you in a weird way, nevertheless he let out a sigh. "I find your words to be genuine" he said.

BOOM!

Both of your attention turn back to the battle, it seems Hollyberry cookie is winning as she bashes her shield against Pitaya Dragon who is now in their cookie form. "Take that!" she yelled, Pitaya Dragon blocks the shield with their sword but the sword gets deflected from their hands and lands on the ground.

"Harghh!!!" Pitaya Dragon let out a growl. "Are you done now, Pitaya Dragon?" questioned Hollyberry Cookie as Pitaya Dragon bursts out laughing, "Hahahahahaha! Do not think I don't have tricks under my wings, Hollyberry Cookie!" they said as they flap their wings, sending burning sparks in the air.

"Oh shit..." you said.

"What are they doing?!" Wildberry glares at the dragon cookie "Queen Mother, be careful!". You quickly get on your feet, "Pitaya Dragon, don't!" you screamed at the dragon. "Miss!" Wildberry yelled out. Pitaya Dragon's wings erupt in a greenish red flame.

"Take a load of thisss!" they shouted, eyes glowing dangerously and before they could unleash their newest attack.

A bright light flashes before their eyes, blinding them. "Gargh! My eyesssss!!" Pitaya Dragon closes their eyes and falls on the ground. "Haargh!" Pitaya Dragon growls once they recover from the sudden flash of light blinding their eyes. "Did you jussst interrupt my battle!" Pitaya Dragon glares in your direction as they stand up to tower over you, "I'm not letting you set the entire forest on fucking fire!" you glare back at them. "Thissss isss my territory! I can do whatever I want with it!" Pitaya Dragon hisses, "Burn the forest, I won't cook for you for an entire month!" you said and Pitaya Dragon was taken back, their tail swishes in annoyance as they look away. "Grrr....fine!" they said.

Hollyberry and Wildberry stand at the side, both were shocked to see a cookie threaten a dragon. "Ahem..." Wildberry lets out a cough to catch both of your attention. "Pitaya Dragon Cookie, may we know who this is?" Hollyberry asked the dragon. "Well, Hollyberians! Thisss isss (C/n) Cookie!" Pitaya Dragon introduces you to Hollyberry and Wildberry. "and thessee Hollyberianss namess are Hollyberry Cookie, a friend rival of mines and her grumpy bodyguard, Wildberry Cookie!" they said as Wildberry sends a glare at the dragon.

You blink and smile sheepishly, "H-Hi!" you said. "Nice to meet you, your highness! a-and Wildberry Cookie!" you said as you bow, Hollyberry bursts out laughing. "Ahahaha! Just call me Hollyberry Cookie! A friend of Pitaya Dragon is also a friend of mine!" she said with a large smile on her face. "Nice to meet you, (C/n) Cookie!" she said as Wildberry gives you a gentle smile, he walks up to you and takes your hand in his and kisses it, like a gentleman.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, (C/n) Cookie" he said. You let out a giggle and blushes slightly, "Nice to meet you too, Wildberry Cookie!" you said. Pitaya Dragon stares at the two of you interact and for some reason, the dragon doesn't like this at all.

They couldn't help but let out a low growl escapes from their lips.

#pitaya dragon cookie x reader #pitaya dragon cookie #x reader #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #hollyberry cookie #monster hunter #wildberry cookie #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you

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