raaaaagghhhh this has been occupying my mind forever but... datatorre breeding.... and hes so big too that hes like... hunched over your whole body.... love that guy.
✶ ʾ ៹ 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄!
notes. while i’m not super crazy about breeding i see your vision anon.. might be on the shorter side but i still wanted to indulge a little<3
tw. breeding, size difference, stomach bulge, full nelson, use of ‘dear’, praise, dumbification
uncomfy or -18? dni! this is def not for you homeslice..
dr. data!dottore x gn!reader.
it’s difficult to say how you’d gotten yourself into this position, having gotten separated from your allies and pressed back to chest of the man ( or whatever had become of him ) while he fucked into you with a purpose. a purpose you were far too stunned to believe, and did nothing to combat.
how could you? he was filling you so good, bouncing you on a dick you were sure could not fit into you based on whatever bodily changes he had undergone since you’d last seen him.. and yet it was pumping into you so nicely — pushing against your abdomen, which he had so cruelly pressed on with the palm of his large hand.
archons, the way his hand practically covered the entirety of your stomach was utterly dizzying, apart from the full nelson he had you in. talk about ambitious, but you expected nothing less from the doctor.
“you’ll take all that i give you, won’t you?” his voice filtered back into your ears, seafoam spilling over your shoulder as his pearly canines found your cartilage. “i’m sure you hardly expected generosity coming from the enemy you were tasked to kill, and it’s making you short-circuit so much..” he whispered, smiling wickedly. “as long as you remember my name by the time i’ve filled you with i all i have, then my kindness will persist.”
trailing his nose to the crook of your neck, mask digging into your skin hard enough to break, dottore suckled at your sweet spot, humming softly at the way your veins had pulsed so beautifully for him. “but perhaps we should do a trial run on that, hm?”
as if to put emphasis, he pulled you by the base of your thighs back down onto his cock, drawing a mixture between a hiss and whimper from you as hot tears lined your lashes. but to your surprise and relief, your mind was not entirely far gone. “d-dottore..! i swear-!” although it might have been better to stop at his name, rather than the beginnings of a threat..
“to who? to me? or was that a declaration you were preparing to make, my dear?” he pressed, biting down on the skin of your nape while crescents bloomed beneath the nails digging into your thighs. “if you intend to threaten me, use your words.” dottore chided, gripping your legs when they twitched to close. “you’re quite opinionated when you want to be, so say it with your chest.”
notes. hi sorry i died off a little, kinda burnt out still from ebg so i might take it easy for a couple of days — bear with me pls!
tysm for reading! consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed<3
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Just imagine accidentally walking into the room at the wrong time, knowing Dottore will be in his rare leisure hour for the day that he already rarely gives himself. You can smell the tea he likes to brew to unwind after a long day through the door.
And when you open it, there they are. Zandik has Feofan’s legs braced in either hand as he pummels straight into him, over and over. The Regrator’s leaking, neglected dick bobs in the air with every thrust as his head falls back onto the table that’s contents have been scattered about the floor in a rush.
Their moans are so pretty together. Feofan whimpers and breathes hard as his ass gets filled by Zandik’s cock, while the latter grunts and groans and says all of the filthiest things to his colleague.
“You love being treated like a slut, don’t you, Feofan? Taking my cock like this after reinstating our contract. Is this my true payment to you?”
And Pantalone is just losing his mind, drying cum coating his lower stomach as his next load prepares to splatter in the same place. And he’s right there, his moans picking up in volume and his toes curling and the feeling settling deep in his stomach and-
Zandik stops.
Feofan whines in protest.
“When did you arrive?”
Uh oh.
The two men stare at you, look back at each other, look back at you again, and their dicks throb even harder.
And poor you, Dottore’s little infatuation, accidentally walked in on their noisy, improper fucking. Neither man scowled nor chastised, nor did they rush to cover themselves up. Instead, they regarded you almost quizzically, as if formulating plans in their heads left unspoken to your ears.
“Come” demanded Dottore in a soft but stern tone.
You walked to his side immediately, unsure of, really, what else to do. His hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His mask wasn’t on at this time.
As he looked down at you, you noticed that Pantalone’s moans begun to come back in soft, short bursts. Zandik was moving his hips again, slowly, tantalizingly.
“Now, what I’ll do with you,” The Doctor began,
Dottore grabbed the base of the other man’s cock, lowering you down to take him all in one go. Pantalone almost screamed.
He made short work of your clothes, planting his hands firmly at your waist as he continued to fuck into Feofan still, your feet lifting off the ground as you were placed atop him, hovering just above his needy, weeping cock.
“…is make you useful.”
“Do a good job and I’ll forget this little disturbance ever happened.”
The bastard was having far too much.
The feeling of Feofan’s cock having filled you completely almost felt too much, and you begun to ride him in hopes of relieving the pressure. The two of you cried and whined and whimpered all to the pleasure of Zandik’s ears as he plowed his ass, keeping one hand on your hip to guide you up and down on his cock at the same time.
Feofan came hard inside of you at the same time that Dottore came into him, sending you over the edge in a blissful crescendo.
Dottore pulled back, admiring the two of you still on one another.
“Right, then. Both of you, collect yourselves and see yourselves out.”
content: fluff + fem!reader + period cramp + og OLD man zandik + he is very helpful in here hihihi
—
The feeling is getting tighter, turning almost unbearable and it’s hard to miss the nausea creeping up in your throat, which makes you so thankful that it doesn’t get out of your mouth.
Curled up in a fetus position, the cramp in your lower abdomen is a pain that takes up your whole attention, you missed how the bed dips from behind you.
Zandik’s hands creep around your body, feeling like the pain amplified you whimper in pain when he is pulling you against his body. Laying behind you, your back to his chest, his hands go under your shirt and you slightly shudder at the cool touch of his hands on your bare stomach. Which a moment later feels rather lukewarm and you sigh in content.
His hands are working wonders for your cramp. It’s like he knew the in and outs of your body, he can pinpoint where exactly it hurts and the pain slowly starts to feel less unbearable and more soothing.
Your hands go to rest atop his, feeling his movements on your stomach. His slender fingers are moving in circles, before you feel your hands move along with his palms to softly massage your hips and stomach.
“Thank you.” Your gratitude was soft and you only get a chaste press of a kiss on your neck as a response, shaping your lips into a little smile.
It started to get suffocating hearing you whimper and moan in pain, tossing in your bed as if it would lessen the pain. Zandik came to you for one thing and one thing only, but that’s getting pushed back a few days at the mention of your period.
So he had decided to take over your living room, splaying his documents and notes on his experiments all over the table. And he tried his best to ignore your current situation, until unfamiliar feelings started to rise in his body and his fingers twitched and his brain started going haywire with ideas. Ideas on how to make your cramp go away in one way or another.
It’s unbecoming of him to be this gentle, or kind in your own words. That word has never existed his vocabulary if he has to describe himself. This is more like a means to an end, to get this over with. Not an act of kindness.
To see how your body visibly relaxed at his touch, sounds of content leaving your mouth instead of moans and groans of pain, Zandik feels different. Loss of words to your verbal gratitude, he could only imagine to give you a kiss. When he did just that, even that gives you a subtle delighted reaction that sends waves of different emotions through him.
—
didn’t write it but he figured out a way to make periods and period cramps completely disappear FOR YOU!!! isn’t he just so wonderful ugh this old man
The click of his boots on the polished stone of this particular hall of the headquarters is common, the area only holding a few scant rooms that had all been assigned to the original Zandik and his segments thereafter.
Naturally, the only people who frequently walked these halls were those very segments, the long departed Zandik, and occasionally a certain banker of which he could almost call himself fond of, as much as a man like him could be for another. So, it's peculiar to hear the sounds of his personal piano being played, or an attempt at playing, each key pressed is random, akin to a child pressing each few hoping to make a melody out of random nonsense, a single memory of the segment passes through his mind before being dismissed as swiftly as it came.
It's hardly proper to announce himself to the room, it's his after all, pushing the heavy wood open and scanning the room for anything beyond the obviously out of place fatui member. The sash draped across their shoulders bears the jesters crest, that odd hybrid mix of the Tsaritsa crest and a khaenri'en glyph, there's no familiarity with this grunt not that he'd put any effort into remembering anyone outside of the other lord harbingers. Yet, even now as you'd clearly heard him enter you don't turn, don't acknowledge him, still tapping keys and listening to the mess of notes you're making.
Most of the fatui grunts scatter at the mere sound of his boots, but here is the one grunt unabashedly tapping away at his personal instrument. The long cast of his shadow is usually a nightmare, an omen of the coming heretic, and as the shade of him is cast over you prompts you to lift your head, looking over your shoulder and tilting your own masked face towards him, finally acknowledging him in a meaningful way.
Strange.
While he knows the jesters runners are picked for their willingness to stand toe to toe with the Tsaritsa's harbingers, you haven't so much as saluted him let alone announced your reasoning for entering a space well known as under the control of the second harbinger. His head remains tilted as you step towards him, a familiar envelope in your hand, what looks like a summons from your handler, the jester, the seal still warm despite the frigid nature of the headquarters.
Nothing is said, even as you leave, the second harbinger gives only a slight further tilt of his head to follow your steps out of the room, a slow smirk spreading across his face as a new branch of possibilities opens before him. Perhaps he will ask the jester to lend you to him, let him have such an unfaltering little grunt under his beck and call, the number of usable pieces on his board grows by one if the jester is amicable to the idea of course.
Slipping his thumb under the seal, he's greeted with the flowing script of the only one senior to him, an introduction, not a summons greets him. Written in the same blunt tone as he speaks is a clear cut introduction of you, one of his personal aides, now assigned to him to help with the more administrative tasks he has neglected.
The staff that roam the halls beyond that wing say the laughter of the doctor was almost pleased that day, not mad or maniacal, pleased.
He'd been handed his new curiosity on a silver platter, mere moments after discovering it, now all he needs to do is figure out what about you itches behind his eyes, what about your little moment here by his piano stroked such thoughts to life.
Now, he can enjoy the thrill of chasing a new hypothesis as his grand experiments simmer away in waiting.
A/n: guys this series is getting out of hand I think I need to end it (jokes on you I will never stop talking about dragons). I really hope you are all enjoying this as much as I am <3
Contents: Argenti, Boothill, Dottore as dragons, x reader, gn reader, angst, fluff
Ko-fi
Argenti:
-Another pretty dragon to the list, and one amongst the kinder ones out there. A gentle giant by heart, he seeks to protect all beauty and innocence in the universe
-His kind is generally perceived as greedy and hostile, but for all negative traits his species has, he makes up for them tenfold.
-He tiptoes around young ones and anyone too small or too slow, he carries them if need be without being prompted to. Elderly and the kids have grown to love his presence and assistance, however scarce it may be since he comes and goes like the wind, chasing whatever enemy he spotted. Sometimes he can be overbearing with how eager he is to help, be it in human or dragon form
-He doesn’t shy away from his dragon form whatsoever, and since it is made for battle he uses its advantages against his enemies. His scales are quite tough and not many things can pierce him, and the horn in the middle of his forehead acts like a spear. One swing of his head is usually all it takes to take down his opponent
-Even covered in blood and grime after a battle or trial, he still holds a certain air of regality and elegance as he walks down the path to civilization where he goes to get cleaned (idk but I keep imagining a specific image. It's Argenti with blood on his center horn and looking sort of unbothered or innocent. Like those images of unicorns with blood on their horns yk?)
-His spikes are reminiscent of rose thorns, and very sharp.
-While he appreciates all the praise, he doesn’t consider himself worthy of it, and while he does love all the kids running to him - he does prefer that they don’t touch him for the same reason. He is not worthy of it, he is a knight of beauty but he is tainted, and he doesn’t want to taint the little young souls.
-It took some time until he let you come close to his form, and for a little he did feel overwhelmingly guilty. He always carries a sense of guilt and incompetence, he got used to that taste in his mouth
-He would jump into any battle honestly, and especially if it involves you. He grew to care about you a bit too much
-He spends much more time in human form around you, when battle is done and over with he would go to you after getting cleaned and tidied up, wishing to know and hear again that you are alright. And while you talk he always wonders if you were blessed by Idrila themselves, or perhaps you were set on his path by the Goddess of Beauty for him to meet? If this was another trial, he felt like he was failing - and failure never tasted better.
-He prays he doesn’t lose you. He does love to sing you praises whenever he can, and if he is passing by in his dragon form he lets out a little purr/soft chirp.
-Argenti often visits later at night, a rose in hand yet to bloom fully. And by morning, the petals unroll to reveal the deep red bloom, but by then he is long gone, and the conversation is but a memory to you both
Boothill:
-Boothill is a feral dragon, a hostile one and is to be avoided at all costs - many posters around towns say so, and if there is a rumble through the ground you can be sure there are people herding others into the closest building.
-He is nothing to scoff at. If he was a fierce dragon before, the metal, indestructible body didn’t make him any less soft. The IPC certainly had their ‘fun’ with creating him as he is now. They had attempted to put wings on him but the new body was already too heavy, so that idea was scrapped. Boothill did have wings in his previous body, his own wings that took him high above the ground and over lakes and sandy dunes, but now he will never fly again.
-Nor will he be human anymore. He had died in his dragon form, and the power which allowed him to go between human and beast had died along with his past life. He’s not sure what’s worse - being half machine, marked by anguish and anger, or not being able to see the world from the lenses of a human, from a 6ft height and not 20 or so feet higher than that.
-He was confined to the ground. But as soon as he had made his escape from the IPC’s clutches, he was gone for good.
-He had done it himself and removed the chips that marked his location and destroyed pieces of him that would have revealed him, and he made use of the ground he knew too well, better than them anyway.
-Somewhere along the lines, he joined the Galaxy Rangers and they patched him up, gave him whatever missing pieces he needed and he found his place among them.
-It took a long, long time for him to somewhat settle in his new body, the phantom pains and limbs never went away though.
-Now, though, whenever he arrives at a new planet he doesn’t take up too much space or makes himself known, he prefers the life of solitude and his own solo missions
-Sometimes someone may bump into him, but they’re never harmed unless they’re a part of the IPC. He has developed quite the keen senses for them.
-However you wormed your way into his, now, mechanical heart, I congratulate you. Seeing how physically impossible it can be to reach him
-But Boothill is quite chill once you get into a talk with him, and although sometimes he can get lost in the talk he does try to keep his voice down to a lower volume so he doesn’t hurt your ears. He’d lay down after lighting a small fire for you, his eye closer to where he can see you “normally” - and not from somewhere in the clouds. And from there on you two would talk and exchange stories. If you happen to be another dragon he’d be more at ease, and more at home too since he doesn’t have to tip toe as much around you or around certain subjects
-If you happen to be another dragon he does love to lock horns from time to time and wrestle a little like that, it gives his real skin some stimulation and something to feel. It may not be a fair battle as he is mechanical, but he tries to make it fair by letting a few screws loose- he doesn’t tell you that though.
-Speaking of that, he did once have his wrist nearly fall off due to this, he was trying to get some more ground to push himself off and the screw just popped out and he slipped, crashing into the ground as if he forgot how to walk
-Regardless if you are just a human or if you can take a form of dragon, you have earned yourself the scary dog privilege (a dog that is secretly real nice and soft when you are around)
-also side note but in the art I did forget to draw the "thumb" on his hind right leg, apologies but yeah he'd have 5 fingers on all his limbs
Dottore:
-DOTTTORRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE
-Anyway.
-He wasn’t well loved by his surroundings in the place he originally hails from and he was exiled by his own kin, being chased to the edges of his region to be left to the elements - wherever that may be at this point because all records give different answers, and no one who has gone after him has returned alive.
-The hunger for knowledge grew from day to day, he had grown quite obsessive with getting the results he wanted. At this time he wasn’t exactly small, so he’d use the size of his dragon to his advantage as well, be it to frighten someone or to amaze another. It didn’t matter, as long as he got what he wanted. He doesn’t know anything else but the acts of setting a hypothesis and proving it true, or wrong, or finding another result equally as good. Nothing pleased him more than to succeed.
-His original body was paler than the one he has now, and while that could be blamed on growing up, it can also easily be said that it was a result of his experiments, and perhaps this form is just one of his many clones. Who’s to say he doesn’t have a pale blue dragon spying somewhere else while this black beast stalks around the Akademiya?
-His wings have three appendages on them which allow for easy manipulation of items or opponents, so he doesn’t often see the need to revert back and forth between forms unless something is delicate and requires that human touch.
-He is calculating and a mastermind behind many inventions, both mechanical and medicinal based. He can easily cure many ailments or fix up complex pieces of machinery that have long since been lost to histories. He has invented his own too, the clones are the biggest proof and only a small glimpse of what he is capable of.
-The Omega Build can be said to be the closest to what he looks like in truth, but in terms of personality they can differ a bit. Omega is much more selfish and prone to using charm that the Prime wouldn’t really strive to use.
-Dottore does have the size and strength and all the power he could need to take down anyone, and while he may not be the biggest dragon you should be smarter than to think he can fall easily in battle. He has the power that can match that of an Archon - you really think he would be defeated to someone lesser than that?
-Underneath that mask you may find either his red eyes and scarred face, or an open part of his body that reveals the metal underneath and the red star that act as his eyes.
-He can walk bipedally and quadrupedally.
-Another thing he is quite proficient at is mimicking sounds, and with that he lured people in. Some papers, implied to be him and some other Akademiya student, talk about how the young female student was lured away by sounds into a cavern, where she was promptly ripped apart. This death was blamed on the starving tigers found in the area, but Dottore knows the real story behind that attack.
-He is quite a good looking dragon, but can easily make your blood run cold with a simple flash of his sharp teeth.
-You want one of his feathers, you say? Sure, you may have one, he’ll pluck it out himself and hand it to you. But don’t think it will come free.
Size chart:
- Argenti is actually a smaller dragon for his kind
-Had a bit of a difficult time sizing these boys up, but shh
-Dottore was smaller before, but after he began to make clones and also modify himself he grew more as a result of all those experiments (but is this the 'original'? Hmmm)
-Boothill once looked a bit disproportionate in the first mechanical body he had, since the IPC got wrong measurements, or perhaps it was on purpose as an act of some humiliation to break his spirits, along with making him crawl around without limbs as "punishment" (ah yes, I love Boothill lore)
Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
I WANT SOME NSFW HEADCANONS WITH HIM. HE'S SO HOT. I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SAY THAT ABOUT A DRAGON. I KEEP SAYING THAT ABOUT DOTTORE. BUT DOTTORE IN THE FORM OF A DRAGON IS SO HOT
A/n: Honestly, I never thought something I drew would cause such a reaction in someone but I'll consider it like a big goal, which honestly it is. Also - Guys is this a safe space..
Contents: Dragon! Dottore x GN reader, MDNI, 18+, monster-fucking, headcanons, grammar mistakes
-Truthfully, Dottore doesn’t often feel aroused, or when he does feel like that he doesn’t feel the need to “let it out” - he has become rather dismissive and numb to the feeling
-There are things he does love though - success of his experiments, a clean lab, you
-He is rather obsessive with it and protective, hoarding you to himself like a precious gem that you represent in his eyes.
-Dottore, human form or not, does have a taste for fear, it can get him going. And one way he can get to smell the fear from you is by using his dragon characteristics or even his full dragon form is he’s really feeling playful
-His sense of smell in human form was significantly dwindled and weakened due to him being around chemicals so much, but his dragon form does provide him with a second chance of sorts for smells. He can smell you in particular from far away
-And he can also smell the changes in you, be it your arousal or fear or joy, it’s like a palette of tastes he loves to savor
-With that being said he does love to give a bit of a chase to you before indulging in baser needs
-Dottore is definitely the one to bite you and leave his mark all over you, his hands holding you still by clawing into your skin and clothes alike while his teeth leave indents across your flushed form
-One would think you were half-way to getting mauled by something
-Loves to test your limits by transforming half way and letting you take him like that, testing just how eager you can be for him, and don’t think he’ll give it easy to you either, he can be quite mean
-Now for a little something more 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 , monsterfucker core - Dottore loves to have you ride his tongue in his dragon form. He is huge, might I remind you, and his tongue does have some small ridges that do their magic at stimulating you. You know he won’t hurt you, but this is Dottore we’re talking about, and being surrounded by his teeth while he coaxes you to take your pleasure on its own is nothing to scoff or laugh at
-It gets your heartbeat racing, and he finds a way to make you come time and time again
-He is quite feathery, so sometimes he may pluck a feather or two after he’s done with your coupling and would tease you with it as you’re still dizzy and trying to get yourself together, he’s hovering over you, human form now, and tracing your skin with the tip of the feather
-Heavy into overstimulation, and he’s more of a giver - more so for the reason already mentioned but even when he’s aroused he isn’t selfish with his desires, he doesn’t care much about his arousal
-Would indulge you if you beg him prettily as you usually know how to though, he’s not immune to those pleading eyes and pretty lips
-If he enters a rut or a stronger wave of arousal, he’d bend you over the table in his office whenever you visit, making you come on his tongue or fingers first before he takes you from behind
Ⓒ starrydragoness. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
#note — not super proud of this but have this filler :)
people shook at the mere mention of the fatui, let alone the harbingers. they were known to be ruthless, natural born killers, and the absolute worst of the worst in the ranks of the vile organization.
yet people were always in for a pleasant surprise when they met the second fatui harbinger — a person who spoke quietly, who treated those they met with nothing but kindness, and who looked as if they couldn’t harm a fly.
and yet your blood stained ledger said otherwise. over the years, you had learned to do your job the way it was supposed to be done — in and out quickly and only focusing on the main target, only ever causing harm to those who stepped in to try and halt your mission.
with a conscious riddled with death, violence, and crimson red — who could blame you for taking a more peaceful and quiet approach to everything else the world had to offer.
it was one of the very rare days when a large portion of the harbingers were gathered in the same region let alone a room — the bulk of you having completed your tasks and reporting back to the tsaritsa.
while dottore sat in the corner, his notes about his latest experiment ideas and blueprints laid out in front of him, scaramouche, signora, childe, and you all sat at the main table.
childe spouted on about his adventures in liyue and his experiences with a blonde traveller and the so called geo archon, signora opted to look over her hands, trying to spot any imperfections that may have appeared on her travels.
“do you ever shut up?” scaramouche groaned, his chin resting on his hand as his other one laid halfheartedly on the hardwood of the table.
“that’s rich coming from you — all you do is talk, you self righteous prick,” childe snapped back — his patience for the shorter male being slim to nothing.
signora scoffed at the two, just as dottore did in the corner. if he didn’t hate them enough before, he had certainly grown a more profound disdain for them in the current time.
as childe and scaramiuche bickered on, signora looked around the room, her eyes falling upon a silent you — your head leaned on your hand as you looked into the empty space in the corner. no matter what the situation was, you had always seemed pleased to be there, and in a good mood even — it was honestly concerning to most.
“how do you stay so calm through their bickering?” the duo had stopped at the woman’s words, dottore looking up for a moment to register that signora was talking to the still calm you.
you looked to her with light interest. “it’s not hard to find peace with situations like this with the life we live day to day,” you nodded at your own words, agreeing with the reasoning. “this is the first time in a long time that i’ve been able to sit down without having to worry about washing blood off of my hands,” your eyes scanned the bodies around you — dottore looked borderline amused with your answer, scaramouche looked liked he understood your words greatly, childe looked down at the mention of you washing your hands of the blood, and signora’s lips titled up a smidge.
being a harbinger was no easy feat — day in and day out you had to live with the decisions you made, the death that would follow you, and the red that stained every inch of your body despite the hours you spent scrubbing at your skin.
there was no escape to the pain that you caused, but there was moments in time where the pain would cease just an ounce, and you were surrounded by people who experienced the same things that you have.
it was the closest thing you could get to safety while being in the same room as four other fatui harbingers.
“you’re one of the only harbingers i can actually stomach, you know that?” signora grinned, ignoring the offended scoff of childe. “you bring a sense of humanity back into this place,” she stood, brushing off the imaginary grime and dust from her dress. “in some very… twisted way.”
signora walked out of the room with that, leaving the four last remaining harbingers to themselves.
“a fatui harbinger bringing humanity back into a place like this?” dottore laughed in the corner, his hand moving quickly as he jotted down an idea with his pen. “what a twist of events.”
“never thought i’d agree with anything the old hag had to say, yet here i am,” scaramouche mumbled. “you are a peculiar choice for a harbinger though — how much damage can a peaceful little thing like you do out on the battlefield?”
sighing and standing, copying the actions of the woman who left moments before, you spoke. “i think you’re forgetting your place in the rankings scaramouche,” you walked over to where he sat and pushed his hat down with your finger. “i outrank the sixth place, meaning i outrank you in battle — and before you laugh, i outrank you as well childe,” you watched the grin fall from childe face, and a challenging look take its place.
“you saying i can’t beat you in battle y/n?”
“you let a small blonde who doesn’t even wield a vision beat you… i’m pretty sure i can fair pretty well against you,” amd with that, you made your way out of the room, leaving behind a laughing scaramouche, a amused dottore, and an offended childe.
needless to say the redhead would be on your back for awhile, challenging you to a duel.
