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satoruin · 2 years

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➣ not-so-secret late night rendezvous

pairing: malleus draconia x gn!mc

word count: 3K

summary: while the vdc group stays over at ramshackle, they notice you have a frequent visitor

notes from lee: i’m rusty with long pieces so i hope this is okay ish? takes place during book 5 when the vdc group is staying at the ramshackle dorm but i haven’t read book 5 since it released so it’s not entirely canon compliant… also way more ace-centric than i realized oops i love adeuce

You had abandoned the hope of falling asleep easily once Crowely oh-so graciously allowed the newly formed VDC group to take up temporary residence in Ramshackle. When either or both Ace and Deuce stayed over you could deal with their moderate snores, however, snoring amplified by the seven extra people staying in your dorm was disrupting to say the least.

Despite all the boys being the next room over, the snoring seeps through the rotting wood floors and poorly constructed walls.

In hopes of trying to tire yourself out, you decide on a midnight stroll. Something that has been a recurring event even before your visitors. And maybe you have an inkling of hope that there will be another visitor when you get outside.

You feel the need to be quiet and sneak out, hopeful to not incur the wrath of Vil despite you being the dorm leader of Ramshackle. The window in your room has provided many nights of escapes, but it still takes an effort to push it open enough for you to get out. It only takes a few steps across the patchy roof before reaching the fire ladder. When your feet hit the ground you can already see the green fireflies that swarm the area and it instantly puts a smile on your face.

If the others within the dorm were not up earlier from the scolding Vil had given them, they were more than awake at the footsteps on the roof. Of course, it could have been passed off as the ghosts, but the creak of the rusty ladder gives you away to those inside the house. A quick check into your bedroom proves that it’s you out of the dorm and not one of the VDC members. Vil is largely unconcerned, you are just a manager after all not a performing member, that is until Trappola calls out from the bottom floor.

“Oi! What’s Malleus Draconia doing outside?” Now this peaks Vil and the others upstairs’ interest. Already pressed to the glass window in the seating room are Ace and Deuce, the others join shortly.

“What is this fuss about Draconia being outside?” VIl questions and the redhead shivers at the tone of voice he uses. Instead of answering anything, Ace points outside to where you stand animatedly talking to the prince of Briar Valley. Everyone just now coming to witness the scene outside the window reacts similarly, shock. All inside the house knew of Draconia’s reputation, but there you were chatting away with him like an old friend.

Despite the seemingly friendly conversation between you and the fae, the way Malleus looked fondly down at you did not escape the watchful eyes of the Rook, “Quelle beauté! The love between the Roi des Dragons and the Trickster is blooming right before our eyes!”

The three first-years mashed into the glass pane let out a simultaneous groan. “How come the Prefect didn’t tell us they got into a relationship!” “Bleh who even wants to be in a relationship?” And similar remarks left the boys’ mouth, but soon quieted when they watched as you started back towards the dorm. Their blabbing had cost all of the bystanders to lose track of Malleus who had seemingly left.

“Back to the room. Not a word of this to the Prefect. It is up to them to tell us about their relationship, not your incessant meddling.” Vil sternly ordered and the boys trudged up the creaking stairs before you came back.

Despite what Vil may have told Ace and Deuce about not meddling, you were their friend! If anyone would be allowed to meddle it would be your best friends, no? At least that’s what Ace had convinced himself of and later Deuce despite his reluctance.

They have a momentary break in the grueling practice and that’s when Ace decides to pry. You sit near the sweaty boys and offer up bottles of water, but it feels mostly like moral support. “So Prefect, you’ve been here for quite a while now, so’s there someone you're crushing on?” Ace asks, trying to be nonchalant.

“Is this some roundabout way for me to ask you if there’s someone you like?” You laugh at the red-head when he turns as red as his hair in embarrassment. “I take that as a yes?”

“No!” He waves his hands and you laugh at him again. “What’s wrong with your best friends wanting to know something like that?” Ace nudged Deuce, making him the accomplice to this encounter.

Before Deuce can protest, the two of them are yanked up by their collars. “If the two of you have energy to move your mouths, I’m sure you have the energy to continue practice.”

You laugh at Ace once again and shout a wish of good luck at him and the innocent Deuce.

After the catastrophic failure of the afternoon, Ace decides to take a different route: asking Grim. Once again he makes an assumption that if anyone would know about your relationship it would be your friend (though Ace is unsure if Grim counts as a friend or a pet).

The cat-like creature seems to be asleep at the moment, but Ace’s curiosity is strong enough to be the one killed by the cat. He pokes Grim and he yawns. “Whatcha want that you needed ta wake the Great Grim up?”

“You know the Prefect better than anyone right?” Ace asked tentatively.

Grim rolls over, trying to get comfortable once again before answering, “Just ask my henchman yourself, there’s no need to bother me.”

Ace rolls his eyes but presses on, “Well if it’s your henchman you should know if something in their personal life would affect them serving you, yeah?”

Grim rolls over to face Ace once again, “What could they be doin except being my henchman?”

“Oh well, I heard something about them dating Malleus Draconia, but if it hasn’t been affecting anything then it’s probably not worth talking about.” Ace shrugs, but he knows that Grim is interested in helping him now. At least he thought so, but Grim fails to respond and Ace is met with soft snores.

Ace groans, yet another plan of his: failed.

You crawl into bed, hopeful that maybe tonight you can rest. Grim follows suit and snuggles up next to you. He talks to you about the homework and other classes from the day and it’s not unusual. After a period of silence, “You won’t stop being my henchmen, right?”

You ruffle the fur on Grims head and laugh softly, “What gave you that idea? We’re two halves of a whole, literally.”

Grim exclaims and moves away from the hand that pets him, “I knew you would never leave such a great mage such as myself! Ace told me about some dragon and I didn’t want you to think that you were able to have a new master.” He returns to your side and curls up next to you to fall asleep and says nothing, leaving you confused but you brush it off.

Even though Vil had scolded Ace about staying up not long ago, he still dragged himself and Deuce down to the window where they watched you and Malleus meet. It’s been maybe a week since they last saw your rendezvous with the fae, but Ace is determined to make sure it was really.

Deuce yawns from behind him, “Maybe they aren’t in a relationship? It’s ok for them to just be friends…” Deuce’s head clanks against the window as he tries to go back to sleep.

“But the Prefect always wakes up happier when they’ve seen Draconia the night before! And don’t you remember the first night when Rook was here and he said somethin’ about the two being in love?!”

“It’s not that big of a deal is it? Just let the prefect tell us if or when they want. You’re so obsessed over this like you’re in love with the Prefect or something.” The sleepy boy mutters, but Ace picks up on it.

He laughs haughtily, “Like I would be in love with a pathetic person with no magic.” His tone quickly softens as he voices his real concerns, “I just worry about them ya know? Draconia is a scary dude and I wouldn’t want the Prefect to get hurt. Not because I care about them or anything, but because then I wouldn’t have a place to stay when Riddle kicks me out.”

Ace looks out the window for any signs of you but the field in front of the house is empty. He sighs and drags Deuce up the stairs with him.

Green fireflies fill your gaze and your hairs stand on edge at the powerful magic in the air. Despite the odd feeling you can’t help but smile when Tsunotaro appears.

With the VDC competition just around the corner, Vil had given you tickets but as you would be on the side stage you had no use for them. And the only person, well fae, you could think to give them to was Tsunotaro.

“Child of Man, it is always a delight to see you.” He cups your cheek gently.

Despite feeling a little flustered, you continue with what you wanted to say and fish the tickets out of your pocket, unintentionally breaking his hand off. “Vil gave me tickets for the VDC but I don’t have any use for them so I thought I would give them to you! I won’t be the one on stage but I’d still really appreciate it if you came to watch what I helped put together.” You flash a lopsided grin at the fae and hold out the ticket to him.

His eyes widened in shock. “You wish to invite me to this?” You nod earnestly and he laughs. “Perhaps it is because you are not of this world, but you are certainly naive, little one. Very well, but I will need to find an adequate way to pay you back.”

“Oh! That’s not necessary!” You’re about to ramble but Tsunotaro interrupts you with a kiss on the forehead.

“I will have to teach you the rules of the fae soon, Child of Man. But for now, let us go observe the gargoyle on the south grounds together.” He tucks the ticket into his pocket carefully and holds his hand out to you. You take it and he intertwines your fingers easily.

The night before the VDC it seems no one is able to sleep. Crowded around the window are all seven members of the squad, watching as you converse, yet again, with Malleus.

Watching the two of you has become somewhat of a pastime in the time the group has spent in Ramshackle.

But all of them are growing increasingly frustrated at the way both of you seem to skirt around your feelings. Of course, they have no way of knowing what is actually going on as they can’t hear you, but your body language is enough. Plus all the times you’ve woken up and come into practice with a silly lovesick smile is pretty telling.

“He’s standin’ so close to them! Can he just bend over and kiss ‘em?” “It’s absolutely nauseating seeing Draconia like this, doe-eyed for our Manager.” “Do you think the Prefect invited him to the competition tomorrow?”

The boys quiet at the mention of the competition. The whole reason for coming down to peek into your rendezvous with Malleus was to distract themselves from the impending nerves.

Vil is the one to break the anxiety ridden air and ushers all of them up to the room and in good timing too. The door creaks as you come back inside the dorm. Everyone in the dorm is plagued with emotions, good or bad, that make it seemingly impossible to fall asleep.

The day of the VDC comes and everything goes awry at Vil’s overblot. Though it is not your first overblot, being magic-less during it really takes a toll on you. You hate being useless during these times, there’s nothing you can do besides offer moral support, de-escalating the situation after, and a shoulder to cry on.

The adrenaline fades away and the boys collapse on the broken stage. Their heaving breaths are audible and their body language tells you of their exhaustion. You’re not exactly sure what to do, but the presence of powerful yet familiar magic washes over you.

You whip your head around to see the horned fae and you want to run up to him, but you’re just as tired as everyone else plus a little lightheaded from the poisonous air. Instead you simply call out to him, “Tsunotaro! What’re you doing here so early?”

It’s as if everyone sitting in the rubble has regained energy as they all repeat your pet name for the fae, but much louder. Though it’s not a shock that you know him, they’ve all witnessed your late night trysts, but for you to call him ‘Tsunotaro’ instead of something more respectable is… surprising.

Grim’s eyes light up with recognition at the nickname. “This is the ‘Tsunotaro’ ya were fawnin’ over? The nickname makes sense since he does have those horns growin’ out of his head but…” Grim trails off and you’re thankful he shut up. You didn’t need Tsunotaro to hear about your crush on him.

Thankfully he’s grabbed by Deuce so you don’t have to shut the cat up yourself. “Grim, you need to respect your elders,” Deuce scolds through a forced smile.

“It seems I’ve arrived a bit early. Though I’m unaware of how you all expect to perform on a ruined stage.” His tone is a bit teasing and it’s groundbreaking for all that have regarded Malleus as scary. And for those that have interacted with him, it’s weird to hear him talk so tenderly.

“Oh, well you see… there was kind of an overblot.” You smile at him, as if the overblot was not a traumatic experience you and the others barely survived.

Malleus’s eyes widen, “I did not sense an abnormality of magic, nor did anyone else for that matter. I’m pleased to see that you are all okay though.”

He looks around the stadium to assess the damage. “I suppose this counts as my payback for your invite, little one.” He pats your head gently and smiles down at you. The overwhelming sense of power washes over you and sparks seem to fly out of Malleus’s hand. In an instant the previously damaged stage is restored.

“Woah,” you breathe out softly. You look at him with stars in your eyes. You’re still unaccustomed to such flashy magic or really magic at all. The others behind you, while admiring Draconia’s handiwork, are completely astonished, and maybe a little frightened, by the enormous gap in skill.

“Please, such magic is child’s play for a mage of my caliber.” He responds to your praise. Coming from anyone else it would sound arrogant, but as one of the top mages in all of Twisted Wonderland, it was deserved. “I’ll return when the competition draws closer. I expect to be enthralled by your performance, after all it is due to the effort of Schoenheit you have gotten this far.”

The fae walks over to you where you sit and crouches down. He reaches his hand out towards your face but stops just short, hovering and hesitating. Malleus resigns and ends up dropping his hand back to his side all together. You don’t voice your disappointment, but the others do.

There’s a collective groan that’s quick to catch the attention of both you and Malleus. Ace is a myriad of stupid, hence he is the one to speak up out of all the members, “Great Sevens! Are ya shy? The Prefect clearly wants you to kiss them and everyone can tell you want that too so just do it! We watch the two of you meet up practically every night and every single night you chicken out.” Ace sighs, but quickly realizes. “Uh, I mean this in the most respectful way, Mr. Draconia, sir, highness?”

You’re embarrassed, was it really so easy to read your disappointment? But more importantly, “What do you mean by ‘we’? Are you telling me everyone that’s stayed in the dorm has watched me and Tsunotaro hangout?”

You look at them expectantly and see them nod. Jamil scoffs though, “You call that a hangout? It’s without a doubt a date.”

“I didn’t want to assume…” you trail off. You turn your head to look at anywhere but Malleus, embarrassed and a little flustered. It seems like the universe is intent on letting the prince know exactly how you feel.

The boy in question places a hand on your knee to turn your attention to him. “Were you not aware that I am courting you? I thought I made it fairly obvious.” He seems confused but his words have that teasing lilt that seems to become apparent when talking to you.

“Courting is like dating right?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. You hear another collective groan, but it seems Malleus is as clueless as you are.

“Is that what they call it these days?” The fae mirrors your expression. Perhaps this is why the two of you seem to be perfect for each other.

“Please talk about your relationship status later. We need the Prefect for rehearsals.” Vil tells his classmate impatiently. Though he is quite pleased with the events that have unfolded, nights spent at the window watching you two was not a waste after all.

Malleus kisses you swiftly, having made up his mind due to the words from the others. It takes all you have not to grab him by the lapels and keep his lips glued to your own. But having your first kiss with Malleus in front of your friends is enough to remind you to practice self-restraint.

He smiles at you softly, “I will see you later, darling.” He swipes at his uniform, ridding it of any debris and takes his leave after giving you a quick peck. You stare after Malleus longingly before Vil claps his hands.

“As lovely as that was, we have a championship to win.”

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dottores · 1 year

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HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine.

notes: i forgot it was friday SOBS i got distracted reading a new book so we're a little late but anyway <.< its time also i’m gonna answer asks tomorrow i promise 😭

THE DOCTOR

You sighed softly, smoothing out the cloth draped against you as you took a look in the mirror again. There was nothing left to fix--your hair was done, the jewel of your necklace laid neatly in the middle of your chest and your gown was fitted perfectly. You thought you should be alarmed, you didn’t know how the masked person had all of your measurements. You assumed that they had been the one to drop off the gown at the inn you were staying at in Snezhnaya City so you could be properly dressed for the event at Zapolyarny Palace.

You rose to your feet, gnawing at your bottom lip as you looked into the mirror one last time. They had given you a purple gown to wear--and not just any purple, the color of your family, the exact shade. You didn’t like it. You wondered if it was on purpose or just a coincidence but you figured that nothing about this person was a coincidence. They knew everything about you from who you were to the reason you came to Snezhnaya, a secret that you thought had been kept safely between you and your grandfather.

Your eyes turned to the window, catching a rather fancy looking carriage making its way down the stone road in the direction of the inn you were staying at. You figured that was going to be him--whoever the aristocrat was that the masked person had said would be bringing you to the event.

How?

The events were invite only, strictly moderated, how this person had managed to get you in was a mystery. You didn’t know what to expect--you didn’t know how many people would be there nor did you know if all of the Harbingers would be attending. You assumed that they would so you could prepare for the worst case scenario but you hoped that they didn’t.

You didn’t know much about the Fatui Harbingers, just what your grandfather had learned from one of the few networks of intel he had access to that weaved through Snezhnaya. There were eleven of them, but only ten were active--ranked by strength, they struck fear and awe in the hearts of their subordinates. There were rumors that some of the higher ranked ones could rival even the Archons in power. Your grandfather warned you of a few before you left for the north: the Doctor, the Balladeer, the Fair Lady and the Friar, all brutal and dangerous and unforgiving, should they learn of your plans in the north, you would quickly find yourself a fallen pawn in whatever game of chess they were playing against the rest of Teyvat.

You thought your best bet might lay with the Regrator. Evidently, he was the most recently promoted Harbinger of the active ten and focused more on the economy and politics than anything else… or so was assumed, at least. Snezhnaya had prospered since his promotion--the creation of the Northland Bank and its expansion across Teyvat had catapulted Snezhnaya to match the wealth of Liyue, they were even trying to set one up in Fontaine but were failing miserably. You were sure he was just as cruel and vicious as the rest of them but you thought that at least you wouldn’t be dealing with unfamiliar topics.

How you were going to ensure that you were placed with him… or even placed at all instead of being killed on sight, you didn’t know. You figured that was something important to know before you stepped foot in Zapolyarny Palace but you excused the lack of preparation by telling yourself there was no way for you to prepare for something when you didn’t know what to expect. You would figure out the plan as soon as you got there and knew who was there, what the event was for, and what you could do to ensure your survival and success.

Your head hurt but the carriage had come to a stop at the steps of the inn you were staying at and you knew you had to get moving. You let out another heavy breath as you took one last look in the mirror before making your way out of your room and down the steps of the inn.

You gave a soft smile to the elderly man working the front desk as you made your way through the wide lobby, hesitating only for a second when you saw a tall figure ducking out from inside of the carriage. Swallowing thickly, you pushed the doors open, wincing at brisk air stinging your face as soon as you stepped outside.

A brown head of hair whipped around at the sound of the doors shutting behind you, an awkward smile pulled at the lips of your date for the night, warm brown eyes focusing on you, “Hello,” he said, his voice was a bit hesitant and nervous, holding his hand out toward you. “I’m Artem.”

You placed your hand in his, watching as he bent his head down to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles, “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Artem interrupted, then flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, they… already told me who you were.”

They, you repeated silently as a particularly harsh wind swept through the city, the streets eerily silent.

“They…” you murmured to yourself but Artem suddenly looked nervous, brown eyes flitting around before he motioned for you to join him in the carriage. You inhaled the bitterly cold air as you stepped forward, taking his hand as he helped you up into the carriage before following you in, shutting the dark door behind the two of you.

“You shouldn’t talk about stuff out in the open,” Artem said quietly. “There are always people listening.”

Great, you thought to yourself, gaze twisting around outside. The streets were barren but even you knew there was something off about this city that you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, you caught sight of a figure standing in the window of one of the apartments across the street. You couldn’t make out their features against the backlight but you knew their eyes were directed toward the carriage.

You’d been in the city for two days now and it felt eerily similar to the streets of Fontaine. You didn’t often leave the palace of the Hydro Archon, everything you needed was within it: food, water, libraries, the gardens, but every once in a while, you would escape to go watch a show at one of the theaters. The Hydro Archon liked to keep the nobles of the nation ignorant to the perils of the rest of the civilians and it worked when you were in the ivory tower of the palace but when you were down in the streets, it was impossible to miss how the civilians were on edge, eyes constantly darting around in an anxious panic. There were eyes everywhere--in every window, in every alley, in every corner and crevice and no matter how aware you were of them, there was no hiding from them.

Snezhnaya City was just like that.

Oppressive. Tense. Heavy. Cold beyond just the air around you. But unlike Fontaine, Snezhnaya was not your home. Your name and title held no weight in this city and the threat of the Fatui and what they could do to you weighed on you like the sky had fallen.

“What is this event?” you finally asked, fingers playing with the fabric of your dress as you watched Artem from the corner of your eye.

“They’re filling the last spot,” Artem responded, staring ahead. He didn’t look excited or pleased and you couldn’t help but wonder what the political climate was like here, the relationship between the Snezhnayan aristocrats and the Cryo Archon and her followers--maybe it was something you could use to your advantage… or maybe it would be something that would just damn you even further, showing up with one of them. “For the Harbingers, they’re promoting someone to fill the Eleventh seat.”

Oh, you realized what exactly he meant by filling the last spot, an intense dread sweeping through you because that meant that yes, all of the other Harbingers would likely be there. Instead of dwelling on the subject, you said, “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

Artem turned his head to look at you, evaluating you carefully before shaking his head, “What’s there to be happy about?” he asked dryly. “The stronger they get, the weaker my family gets.”

They’re not united, you realized, and they’re not afraid to admit it.

That was interesting. Artem’s face didn’t twist in regret after he said that nor did he look ashamed, if anything he looked resentful… but then doubt began to stir. If the Fatui knew about the dissent, why would they invite them to their elite events?

“They let you guys into their events knowing… that?” you asked, side-eyeing Artem, wondering if you had dug yourself a bigger hole by showing up with him.

“They don’t know all of it,” Artem said, “and even if they did, it’s more of an intimidation tactic than anything else. They bring us there to show us their strength, scare us into submission. That’s all it’s about.”

“All of it as in?” you pushed, figuring that if he was going to be so open with information, that you might as well get as much as you can so you knew exactly what you were walking into.

Artem gave you a look as if you should know what he meant. “They think that the Triglav was the only organization we had to fall back on--the Regrator tore it apart a few years ago.”

Why are you telling me all of this? You wanted to ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Brown eyes met yours at the silent question, he knew what you were asking.

“They told me who you were,” he said again, except this time, you felt a bit more cold, realizing he knew more than just your name. “I figure they want you to fumble around in the Snezhnayan courts for their amusement but it’ll get you killed--I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” you questioned. You didn’t know if you could trust him or believe his words and you felt so damn alone and lost that a part of you wanted to jump out of the carriage and flee back to Fontaine--you didn’t know what you were thinking, you were a damn noble girl not some secret agent, super spy who could successfully infiltrate one of the most dangerous organizations in all of Teyvat.

“You want the same thing as I do, don’t you?” was all Artem responded with. “No one knows what they want, what their goal is or anything, but they promised to restore the aristocracy and to do that, the Fatui needs to be weakened… so I figure the more people working for this, the better.”

Your nose wrinkled, “You aligned with these people without even knowing who they are or what they want?” you asked in disbelief.

“Didn’t you?” Artem countered sharply.

You felt hot, called out for your hypocrisy, “That’s not the same. I was desperate.”

“So are we,” Artem said, lips pressed together as he turned away.

The carriage was approaching the palace, as large as the one back home in Fontaine and just as magnificent. Where the one in Fontaine City was lined with gold, stunning beneath the rare show of the sun, Zapolyarny Palace glittered white beneath the moonlight, like a million diamonds coated the surface--beautiful, but possibly the most daunting sight you’d ever come across. The sky that weighed on you tripled in weight, you thought you might throw up.

“What should I expect in there?” you asked quietly, breaking the sudden tension between the two of you. You figured it was not the best idea to antagonize your one ally in this place.

Artem sighed, looking back over at you, “Just stay by me,” he said. “Of all the aristocratic families in Snezhnaya, mine is one that’s heavily aligned with the Fatui… at least in their eyes. We’ll probably have a few of their more important subordinates coming over to talk to us but the Harbingers will be focused on the more antagonistic families to make sure they don’t pull anything. We’ll keep away from them and hopefully, keep their attention off of us. As long as we skate by without having to deal with any of the Harbingers, we’ll be good… I’ll try to find some opportunities for you to slip away and do what you need to do.”

What I need to do, it echoed in your head. The palace was right before you and you still had no idea what you needed to do to prove your stepfather’s hand in your father’s death. You had to find evidence. But how? You figured that there weren’t a lot of Fatui spies in Fontaine--too many would draw too much attention, it would be easier to just have one embedded deep in the courts… which would make it an important, covert operation. They had to have records of that somewhere.

“Do you know what each of the Harbingers do?” you asked.

“Like what they oversee?” Artem questioned, brows furrowed, you nodded. “Vaguely.”

“Intel?”

“Internal intel? I’d say the Regrator or the Rooster. External? The Knave, the Marionette and the Friar all deal with it, as far as I’m aware.”

You went quiet, letting out a shaky breath at his words. Three different Harbingers who could be overseeing your stepfather in Fontaine--the Fourth, the Seventh, or the Tenth. You shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. The palace would be crawling with Fatui operatives, how the hell were you supposed to sneak through them all and figure out where the information might be.

Instead of letting yourself become riddled with anxiety, you asked the last question that had been weighing on your mind.

“How don’t the Fatui know about these people?” you asked quietly. “I figured they knew everything that goes on in Snezhnaya, you’d think an organization with this much influence…”

Unless there’s someone hiding it from the inside? But what were the chances of that?

“I don’t know,” Artem admitted. “Maybe they do and we’re all just getting played, or maybe the Harbingers are blind to a rat right beneath their noses.”

“You could do something beyond just standing there,” a cold, dry voice said from behind him.

Dottore didn’t even bother to turn around and face her, instead watching the scene before him carefully. The aristocrats had been steadily arriving for an hour, filling up the ballroom, mingling with one another. Most kept a wide berth from the Fatui who had come out for the event. It was the largest event the Fatui had hosted in decades, twice as big as Pantalone’s promotion because it was signaling the completion of the upper echelon, the start of what would be the final preparations for war.

“I don’t see you rushing to join in the celebrations,” Dottore responded, gaze finally shifting from the wide double doors to Arlecchino, who had come to stand next to him, arms crossed against her chest as she watched Columbina’s fingers fly across the piano.

“I plan to,” Arlecchino told him, “I have a feeling tonight's going to be more interesting than we think.”

Dottore eyed her carefully as he digested the cryptic comment, trying to figure out what exactly she meant, before simply saying, “I hope so, at least then it will be an entertaining waste of my time.”

Arlecchino only let out a huff of laughter, but there was no amusement behind the action, “What do you think of the boy taking the Eleventh Seat?”

“He’s a child.” Dottore waved off the question, he cared not for the boy.

Capitano evidently saw potential in him but Dottore only saw an unpredictability that they shouldn’t be risking this close to the beginning of their real purpose. He only advocated for him because he thought he would get the chance to study him but Pulcinella was being careful to make sure that he was never in the capital long enough for Dottore to get to him. The only boon that came along with promoting him was that he was eager to please, willing to take on the jobs that none of the rest of them wanted to deal with as a means to prove himself.

“Then his moniker is fitting,” this time there was a scathing sort of amusement in her tone, “but even a blind man could make that observation. I asked you for your opinion of him.”

Dottore’s lip twitched in irritation. “That is my opinion of him,” he said coolly. “He is a child. He is immature and foolish, abuses the technique he learned while in the Abyss. He will die soon because of it. I would like to run some tests on him before then but I suppose life isn’t particularly necessary for them anyway… just more convenient.”

Arlecchino scoffed. “All you care about is your research, hm? Not even a hint of concern for those whom you call comrades?”

Dottore leveled his gaze on her. “No,” he said firmly, “and do not pretend as if you do. We both have seen what lies beneath that false face of yours.”

Arlecchino smiled, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the ballroom, “Fair enough.”

“Don’t you have something better to do than bother me, Knave?” Dottore asked, a sardonic tone seeping into his words as he continued, “like to go fetch your pet before he makes an embarrassment of us again.”

He turned his attention back to the ballroom floor, pointedly looking in the direction of Brighella, busy trying to woo the daughter of one of the aristocratic families who was giving Pantalone a hard time.

“Speaking of pets,” Arlecchino said, a mocking tone to her voice that Dottore didn’t quite like, “do you plan on getting rid of yours because of his failure to get you the funding you wanted? … I overheard your conversation with the Jester the other day, shame to hear about how poorly all of your projects are going.”

Beneath his mask, Dottore’s eyes hardened, turning his head to the side to look at Arlecchino again. He wasn’t sure what he was more annoyed by: the fact that she had listened in on his conversation with Pierro and he hadn’t even noticed or the fact that she was making a dig at his research.

“Not quite as poorly as the decline of the House of the Hearth. How many of your orphans have gone missing in the past few years again?” Dottore countered lowly, watching as Arlecchino’s eyes flashed with fury for just a moment, needling right through her cold mask.

It wasn’t even like his research was going poorly. It was just the typical pattern of adjusting to failures to find the right set of combinations to perfect the formula. Pierro was just impatient because he did not want to send three of the Eleven out to their missions with delusions that were still sapping their vitality. He had made enough progress so that they were no longer life-threatening with significant use, and as far as he was aware, the Balladeer was going to bring the old, faulty delusions down to Inazuma once Arlecchino’s agents wove their web through the Commissions.

Dottore didn’t even understand why this was all necessary, frowning again as he looked out at the aristocrats. Pantalone had already torn the Triglav apart at its seams and the aristocrats were floundering with no shield to protect them from the Fatui. There was not much consolidation of power left to do in Snezhnaya. If anything, this was just excessive—making sure they knew just how strong the Fatui was so that they didn’t get any bright ideas when they began to focus on obtaining the Gnoses.

“I have the House of the Hearth under control,” Arlecchino said, voice icy. “Can you say the same about your segments?”

Dottore smiled thinly, “Yes.”

Especially now that he had finally made contact with her. If he had known that the barest conversation with her would lead to even the Theta segment doing as he asked with little pushback, maybe he would have reached out sooner.

Maybe.

An odd feeling settled in his chest as his thoughts fell to her again. He didn’t like thinking about her for too long but he hadn’t heard anything from her since that night Rho lost her. He knew she wasn’t dead, the thread still hung from his finger and the mark between his shoulder blades was still a bright purple. He wondered if she was just ignoring him or if there was something else going on. He had tried to look into it but hadn’t been able to find any previous examples of something interfering with a bond… which led him to believe that she was ignoring him, maybe as payback for all of the years he went ignoring her.

Either way, he didn’t like it.

Arlecchino abruptly stepped forward next to him, eyes narrowed. Dottore followed her gaze, eyes falling on the livid expression that Sandrone wore as she spoke to Capitano, standing near the piano Columbina was playing at, motioning in the direction of the double doors of the ballroom. Dottore tried to figure out what had her so angry but nothing stood out--Scaramouche was nowhere to be found and usually he was the one to set her in a foul mood by insulting her automatons, otherwise it wasn’t often that her temper was set off because she simply did not care for anything else.

Arlecchino immediately set off in their direction and Dottore, curiosity piqued and hoping to make the night pass faster but entertaining himself with whatever had Sandrone set off, followed after, watching in amusement as their subordinates and the few aristocrats who had crossed the floor to intermingle scattered at their approach.

Capitano raised his head once he caught sight of the two of them, motioning them over. Sandrone pressed her lips together, staying silent until they were close enough to hear what they were talking about. Columbina’s fingers still flew across the keys of the piano, focused on the sonata, but Dottore knew she was listening too: there was a soft smile gracing her face, one that screamed amusement and not the mere enjoyment that came with playing the instrument. Dottore thought that if Columbina was amused by something, then it might spell trouble for all of them, the eerie comment she made about his soulmate a few months back suddenly ringing through his head.

I would like to meet her when she gets here.

Dottore felt unsettled, raising his head to look out across the ballroom floor to look for something but he didn’t even know what he was looking for. All it took was Sandrone opening her mouth once, and the entire world around him froze and shattered.

“One of the aristocrats brought one of the Hydro Archon’s dogs to our event as his date,” she spat out. “This needs to be handled now.”

There were eyes on you.

You didn’t dare to turn to look so you could figure out who was watching you, the last thing you wanted to do was bring more attention to yourself but you couldn’t smother the growing anxiety. You kept your back to them, feigning interest in whatever conversation Artem was having with one of his cousins so that they didn’t know you were aware of their scrutiny even though every inch of you itched to look behind you.

The ballroom was packed to the brim, you thought that every aristocrat in Snezhnaya must be attending this event. It almost reminded you of the balls back home in Fontaine City. The paintings lining the walls were stunning and the ornaments glittered prettily beneath the dim lighting. No one had made their way to the smooth hardwood floor to dance yet despite the quintet of musicians playing in the corner of the room, a beautiful symphony that was not quite harmonious with the eerie piano being played somewhere behind you.

If you weren’t so nervous, you might be able to appreciate the beauty of it… but Fatui lined the room--agents and mages and captains, they were unarmed as far as you could tell but you had a feeling that could change in a moment’s notice.

You felt trapped, like a cornered animal.

There was no way for you to slip away, not when you were being watched and not when the Fatui seemed to be guarding each and every exit. Everything was crumbling around you and you had only been there for a half hour. You tried to calm yourself down, force yourself to think and figure out a plan but every time you tried to do that, you were interrupted by some Snezhnayan noble who wanted to greet Artem.

What did you expect? You spat at yourself angrily. For the Fatui to leave holes in their defenses right at their heart? For you to just walk right in and be given the information you wanted by your stepfather’s superior?

You would leave empty-handed at this rate--the one opportunity handed to you on a silver platter slipping away like water between your fingers. You had to figure out what to do now because there was nothing you could do if you left the palace without the evidence you needed. Zapolyarny Palace was impenetrable, everyone you had come across had made that clear, you would not get another chance like this. This was your easy way into the palace but what could you do? Even if you managed to slip past the guards into the hall, making an excuse to use the bathroom or freshen up, it didn’t change the fact that somehow, you had already drawn attention to yourself.

How? What had it been?

You had not made any sort of scene. You were not overdressed or underdressed, nor did your colors stand out. There were people dressed in bright red gowns, different shades of purple and blue and green, blacks and whites. Artem was not from a contentious family so there was no reason for him to have drawn attention.

What had done it? Was Artem unaware of some conflict between his family and the Fatui? Or was it something else…

Did someone know who you were?

You felt a bit sick at the thought, smile faltering as your grip on Artem’s forearm tightened. You noticed him cast a brief, worried glance down at you but you were too preoccupied to reassure him that you were okay.

Did someone know who you were?

The question echoed through your head over and over again and you realized, slowly, that it was very, very possible and it was something that you had not even considered could be an issue. Your stepfather shouldn’t know where you were going, you hadn’t even confirmed to your mother that you were leaving for Snezhnaya--you had insisted it was Mondstadt--but if he had taken a picture of you and sent it to his superior in Snezhnaya as intel he was passing along about your family and they recognized you when you walked through those doors with Artem…

Suddenly, the urge to turn around and pinpoint who was watching you skyrocketed because if it were true, then that was how you were going to know which Harbinger was supervising your stepfather’s mission--the first step in finding the evidence.

You let out a quiet breath, about to turn your head to the side just a bit to see if you could catch a glimpse of whoever was staring at you but before you could, a hand brushed your forearm. You masked the irritation you felt as you turned your attention back to Sonia, Artem’s cousin’s wife. She smiled at you, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder as she asked:

“So how did you and Artem meet?”

You smiled, leaning into the man and looking up at him, hoping that the gesture came across more adoring than the brief spike of panic you felt. The two of you had intended on going for a simple story: you had met while on the Snezhnaya-Fontaine border and instantly fell for one another, love at first sight, a classic romance… but now you weren’t sure if admitting that you were from Fontaine was the best course of action. Artem was confused, you could see the glimmer in his eyes as he smiled down at you, and you didn’t know what to do.

The split second that had passed since Sonia’s question felt like eternity and finally you responded with a soft laugh, “We met on the border between Snezhnaya and Fontaine. I had gone a bit north to find a nice present for my siblings, their birthday is coming up. I ran into him while shopping and he helped me find the perfect gift. I thought all of those romance books were exaggerating when they talked about love at first sight but I became a victim of it just like that.”

You were only half listening as Sonia cooed and leaned into Artem’s cousin, talking about how the two of them met at a seaside village in western Snezhnaya. You decided that going with the original story was for the best. If, by chance, the Harbingers did happen to know that you were a noble from Fontaine already then it would only draw more suspicion if it got around to them that you were claiming to be a Snezhnayan commoner or even from another foreign nation.

So many ifs. You hated uncertainty.

Lost in thoughts, you were only drawn back to reality as your forearm stung--the telltale sign that your soulmate was reaching out, again. Your lips pressed together in annoyance.

He had been persistent the past two weeks. Every day, he would ask where you were and what had happened but even if you wanted to, there was no way of telling him where you were--he should know that--but the thing was, you didn’t want to. You thought that he had no right suddenly caring about where you were and if you were okay and you were mad at yourself for giving in and responding when you were hurt. He went twenty years ignoring you when you tried over and over and over again just to get to know him, the person that Celestia had tied you with, and he constantly disregarded and even rebuffed you.

You had never heard of someone being rejected by their soulmate until yours had rejected you. It was humiliating, even if only the two of you were aware of what had been said, but more than that it hurt. You dedicated years to him, your whole life was centered around him from having to hide the fact that you had a soulmate to the years you spent in libraries trying to understand him in hopes that it would somehow make him care about your existence, years that you could have spent with your father.

You looked down as discreetly as you could, reading the scratchy words painted on your forearm:

Where are you?

You barely withheld the roll of your eyes as you turned your gaze back up to Sonia, smiling as she laughed at whatever Artem’s cousin had said.

Artem looked as if he was about to speak up but before he could, there was a sharp rap of metal against glass from the front of the room. Instantly, conversation silenced and all heads turned in the direction of the noise--finally, you could turn to see who was staring at you but it was too late; whoever they were, they had already looked away.

“We are here today to officially announce the occupation of the Eleventh Seat,” a low, male voice announced. Your eyes shifted to him--half of his face was covered by a black mask, white hair long and slicked back--you weren’t sure who he was, you hadn’t been given descriptions of the Harbingers, but you figured he was high ranking if he was making this announcement.

“The Jester,” Artem said under his breath. Your eyes widened just a bit. The Jester, you recognized, the leader. “The rest are…”

All around him, you finished silently, your throat closing up as you caught sight of the daunting figures standing around the stage at the front of the room. You didn’t have to know what they looked like to know who they were, their presence and way they held themselves was evidence enough. An unnerving woman with long black and pink hair leaning on the piano, a man wearing a helmet where the face appeared to be an endless void, a woman with an empty expression, silver hair and a blade strapped to her side and…

“A recruit who has proven himself time and time again: felling our enemies without question when we were faced with the threat of a Natlan tribe on the southern border, protecting our people when the Great Wyvern of the northern caverns awoke from its slumber to terrorize our villages, and defending our integrity when called into question by the former Duke of Costesov…”

The Jester was still talking but your gaze had focused in on a familiar man standing off to the side, a bit aways from the small group at the piano--masked and with wavy blue hair, the Fatui subordinates in the area kept a wide distance from him.

It was him, you realized, a cold feeling settling over you, the man who had attacked the inn you had been staying at.

It was her. His soulmate.

Dottore was barely able to mask the torrent of emotions tearing through him. He had known it even before he reached out to her to confirm it, watching her look down at her forearm as soon as he had asked her where she was, and he didn’t know what to think, or do, for that matter.

Around him, the other Harbingers were still talking amongst each other--Arlecchino making snide comments and Sandrone’s letting loose livid remarks about the sheer audacity the Hydro Archon had to a spy so blatantly to their main base. They were talking about handling her and Dottore knew very well that the only way the Fatui knew how to handle things was by getting rid of them.

Getting rid of her. He couldn’t let that happen--he didn’t know how it would affect him and… Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable tugged hard at his chest as his eyes fell back on the girl in the purple dress, watching as she leaned into a boy from one of the Snezhnayan noble families, listening to Pierro’s speech. This was why he didn’t like thinking about her for too long but now he didn’t really have a choice.

“How are you so sure that she’s a noble from Fontaine?” Dottore asked, cutting off Arlecchino mid-sentence as he looked at Sandrone.

Sandrone’s lip curled up, not even bothering to hide the irritation and disgust as she spared Dottore half a glance. “I’d recognize a member of the five families anywhere,” Sandrone said coldly, nose turned up at him. “I was born into one of them.”

That’s right, Dottore remembered vaguely. Sandrone had come from Fontaine. The Harbingers had long given up their names and old lives, they rarely mentioned their pasts--he wasn’t even sure some of them remembered their pasts, he sent a short look toward Capitano at the thought.

“She’s part of the third family, the one that controls the prisons. You know what her family’s talent is?” Sandrone asked sharply, looking back in the direction of his soulmate. “They learned to utilize their hydro vision in a way that lets them twist up peoples’ insides. They usually use it for interrogation but do you know what else it can be used for?”

The third family. Dottore knew enough about Fontaine’s structure to know what that meant: Fontaine had five aristocratic families that were held above the rest, each one of them controlling one of the five main institutions of the nation. No wonder she had to hide her mark.

“Assassinations,” Capitano finished, voice low.

Dottore scoffed loudly. “Her?” he asked dryly, nodding in the direction of his soulmate, dismissing their deductions instantly. “An assassin? She looks like a newborn deer, not a killer.”

She did, Dottore noted offhandedly, eyes drawing back to her for just a moment. She was trying to hide her anxiety and she was doing a good job at it but every now and then, she slipped up, hands shaking just a bit more than they should, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she looked around. Dottore thought a bit of fondness might’ve been stirring the longer he looked at her so he immediately looked away and quashed it, forcing his attention back to the other Harbingers.

“Appearances can be deceiving, Dottore,” Capitano said quietly.

Not hers, Dottore wanted to spit right back—the girl that spent hours on end trying to talk to him and get to know him, undeterred by his lack of response, was no damn killer but he had no way of explaining that to them without admitting who she was to him and he simply refused to open up that weakness to them.

What should he do? He had to interfere but he didn’t know how to do that without making them question why he was stepping in. Dottore cared for nothing but his research--if this was any other person, Dottore wouldn’t have even bothered to give input into the conversation and he was sure that he was already making them suspicious.

“Whether she’s a threat or not, this has to be handled quickly,” Capitano finally said and Dottore felt cold, mind racing to piece together a plan but nothing was feasible. “We can’t afford to risk anything, not here and not now.”

Dottore’s anxiety began to shift into anger the more he dwelled on it and realized that he was backed into a corner because of her, wondering just how stupid his soulmate was showing up to this event on the arm of some random aristocrat. Livid, his gaze shifted to the side again, watching as she leaned into the man’s arm and smiled up at him.

Betrothed, Dottore suddenly remembered one of the things he had recalled from one of the dreams he had of her life. Is this…

“Who is the man she is with?” he interrupted abruptly, voice tense.

“Artem Melnyk,” a new voice said from behind him, Dottore glanced over his shoulder as Pantalone came to stand next to him. “I take it you all are discussing our unexpected, foreign guest.”

Pantalone looked at Dottore as if he knew exactly who she was--maybe he did, Dottore didn’t know if that was for better or for worse. He felt like a cornered animal, ready to lash out at the first perceived attack.

“He will have to be handled,” Dottore said tightly. “I’ll deal with that.”

Dottore thought he would enjoy having this particular new subject in his labs.

“The more pressing matter is the girl,” Sandrone spat out, her one-track mind stuck on Dottore’s soulmate. “She needs to be taken out.”

Dottore thought this might be it, he was about to lash out, but before he could, Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “A bit rash, no?” he asked, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “How will that make us look? Executing a foreign noble for no good reason besides attending a ball with her lover?”

Lover, Dottore was appalled, turning his head to look at Pantalone. Pantalone, evidently, was incredibly entertained by the situation, smile widening just a bit as Dottore looked at him, making him feel as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What do you suggest we do then, Regrator?” Capitano questioned. He did not sound half as amused as Pantalone did.

“Send someone out there to feel her out,” Pantalone said as if it were obvious. His voice took on a more exasperated tone as he continued, “Snezhnaya is in such a poor diplomatic position already specifically because you all tend to kill first, ask questions later. Have we not been trying to rectify that? In what world is killing her the best course of action?”

Sandrone did not look happy, lips pressed together tight, and Pantalone was looking at Dottore, violet eyes expectant as if he was waiting for Dottore to offer to be the one to go talk to her. Dread began to build in his stomach again, realizing that if he went to go talk to her, it would be the end. All of the time he had spent ensuring they would never meet, all of the years he was working severing the bond, it would all be for naught.

“Fine,” Arlecchino said before Dottore could open his mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Dottore didn’t speak as he turned to look at Arlecchino, barely catching the frustrated look in Pantalone’s eyes. Arlecchino was staring right at him, the red x’s in her eyes boring right into him as if she knew something that she shouldn’t, expression cold and unreadable.

Dottore suddenly felt as if he had made a mistake not speaking up immediately.

Just as Arlecchino moved to make her way to his soulmate, Columbina finally spoke up, long, pale fingers wrapping around Arlecchino’s wrist. “No,” she said. “The Doctor will handle it. You promised to play a song with me.”

Dottore thought he liked that even less than Arlecchino’s immediate offer to speak to her but he wasn’t going to give the Knave any time to argue with Columbina, scoffing as he took the opportunity to turn on his heel and walk in the direction of his soulmate and her date.

Pierro’s speech had ended and the musicians were picking up the volume of their piece--soon, couples would make their way out to the ballroom floor to dance but for now, they parted as he crossed the hardwood floor, giving him a wide berth as he walked directly to her.

What was he going to do?

He wondered if this was her plan all along, if she had somehow figured out who he was and what he was a part of so she could throw herself into a dangerous situation and he’d be forced to act. Not for the first time, Dottore felt like he was being played as a puppet except now he didn’t know if it was Celestia holding the strings or her. He had half a mind to let her deal with the consequences of her own actions, let her face one of the other Harbingers and try to convince them she was no threat, but he couldn’t risk letting anything happen to her because it would affect him.

He would have to make sure she knew who he was to her. The last thing he needed was her making a scene if she realized it mid-conversation, assuming she didn’t know already.

She was oblivious to his approach, back turned to him as she talked with Artem Melnyk, but he was not as oblivious. He caught sight of Dottore over her shoulder, expression shifting into one of fear—something that ordinarily would have had him amused but now, just as for the past half an hour, he could only focus on her.

She turned as she noticed Artem’s change in attitude and Dottore wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting the anger that followed the confused expression on her face, eyebrows knit together as she stared at him, a hint of anxiety painted in the rage but just that, only a hint.

No recognition and no familiarity--not a type that signaled that she knew she was meeting her soulmate, at least.

Dottore wondered if that meant she had no idea who he was to her and if that was the case, what the hell was she doing there?

For the first time, Dottore’s eyes traced his soulmate’s face. He couldn’t help but notice that even with the anger, her eyes were still gentle and her expression was still soft. You don’t belong here, he wanted to say, not in this place and not with me, but instead, he only held his right hand out to her and watched, waiting for her to take his hand and finally take notice of the thread that connected the two of them.

She hesitated only for a second as she glanced down at his hand, placing her own in it and Dottore watched the double-take, the way her eyes widened just a bit as she looked down at their connected hands, at the thread connected to his thumb that she could see. His grip tightened just enough to force her attention back to his face before she could make a scene.

There was still anger as she looked up at him again but it was diluted beneath a type of astonished adoration that had never before been directed his way. He knew it was just the shock of finally meeting him and that the anger would return when she remembered the years he went ignoring her but it didn't mitigate the unwelcome feeling rising in his gut. He wanted to look away, uncomfortable under the affectionate gaze and uncomfortable even just touching her because he knew deep down that it felt right and he refused to give into this bond.

He refused to play Celestia’s game.

He leaned down to brush his lips against her knuckles, “Dance with me?” he murmured, loud enough just for her to hear.

He figured that once people began to flood the dance floor, he would be able to speak with her without as many unwanted ears able to listen in.

“You’re-” she began, breathless and stunned--distastefully, he noticed that Artem was still holding her arm, as if to protect her from him. The thought itself would have amused him in any other circumstance but now it only irritated him even more.

Dottore cut her off, giving her a thin smile: “The Doctor, Second of the Fatui Harbingers.”

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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gundamzine · 5 months

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Rhythm Generation

It's been 5 years since we released the first of what would become known as the "Rythm Generation" Gundam Wing fanzine project. For about 4 years, the fandom came together to share some really phenomenal fan creations - art, fic, meta, traditional crafts, and more.

Although the project has ended, I did want to share past publications for those who missed out. Each one of the zines was a labor of love, and I want to again thank everyone who participated--as moderators and contributors.

So jump down below the cutline and take a gander. Link to download page at bottom.

2019 Rhythm Generation (released May 4, 2019): A fandom zine for the Gundam Wing After Colony universe and a celebration of the fandom that has been 20+ years and counting. It featured written and graphical fandom work which provided depth and breadth to the AC universe and the world of Gundam Wing. The collection included a wide array of world building meta, articles, art, and graphics focused on science, politics, society, and art from the fandom’s resident experts and enthusiasts which highlight the creative dynamism that underpins the AC universe. There were several charities for this publication.

2020 Rhythm Generation (released April 7, 2020): An unofficial 25th anniversary fandom zine for Gundam Wing and is a creative celebration of the After Colony universe and the fandom family itself. The anthology showcased a wealth of fandom content in celebration of the show’s 25th anniversary: from fanfic and fanart to cosplay and gunpla to meta, tech specs, and fandom history. The project included both a core zine—Shooting Stars—with a generalized focused on the fandom and a bonus zine—The Measure of a Year—which featured content centered around the crowd-sourced theme of “Seasons.” The chosen charity for this publication was War Child

2021 Rhythm Generation (released October 1, 2021): The 2021 Rhythm Generation Gundam Wing fandom zine—East of the Sun, West of the Moon—featured canon-compliant, canon-divergent, and alternative universe explorations and retellings of classic fairytales, folklore, mythology, vast epics, urban legends, and even cryptids. The anthology included a wide variety of both SFW and NSFW fan content—so tread carefully!—to include stories, art, and other fanwork. The 2021 chosen charity was World Literacy Foundation

2023 Rhythm Generation (released July 1, 2023): The 2023 Rhythm Generation Gundam Wing fandom zine returned to the two-part structure celebrating canon and alternate universe fanworks. The main zine—Battle Scars—centered on the Gundam Wing characters as they move on with their lives after a major event. The bonus zine—Kitchen Cabinets—featured fanworks with a tasty twist plus sprites and recipes as digital swag! The chosen charity was The Hunger Project

To download any and all of the zines above, you can GO HERE.

#gundam wing #mobile suit gundam wing #heero yuy #duo maxwell #trowa barton #quatre winner #wufei chang #relena darlian #relena peacecraft #hilde schbeiker #catherine bloom #dorothy catalonia #sally po #lucrezia noin #lady une #zechs marquise #treize khushrenada

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hrpffandomeventblog · 3 months

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WHAT TIME IS IT? IT'S SUMMER BANG TIME!!!

Welcome to the HRPF SUMMER BANG 2024: REWRITE THE ROMANCE!

Signups for writers are NOW through June 30th. Use this link if you want to sign up as a writer and/or beta: CLICK ME, BABYYYY

That link has all the details, but just in case you want to see it all laid out on this sweet post, keep reading! And please boost, sign up, and enjoy the STANLEY CUP FINALS

What? Rewrite the Romance! Choose a romance novel and re-write it to feature our favorite hockeys! You can stick as faithfully or as loosely to the original premise as you want. Make it AU or Canon Compliant or Canon Divergent, the world is truly your oyster!

Maybe this is your chance to adapt Pride & Prejudice into the Covid/Bubble Season Flames and Oilers romance epic we all never knew we needed. OR it’s your chance to put Miro and Roope and Esa and Jani in the Regency period searching for the perfect Mr. Darcy. Or maybe you read the back of a bodice ripper in the grocery store and said okay, but what if it was Jack Hughes and Nico Hischier instead?

Give us 5k (minimum) of romance and get paired up with an artist who will create two pieces of traditional art, digital art manipulation, moodboards or a video trailer to go with the story!

When:

Writer(AND beta) sign ups June 16-30

1st Check-In July 15-31

Claim Previews August 15

Artist Sign-Ups August 21-25

2nd Check- In September 15-21

Posting Dates October 1-10

Details:

Writer sign-ups: two week period for writers to sign up with their info.

The questionnaire will ask if you need/want a beta, which MIGHT be available but not guaranteed.

Beta sign-ups: anyone who wants to join into the event as a sounding board, editor or cheerleader.

Writers are not guaranteed nor required to have a beta, but we will try to pair folx up if interested.

The questionnaire will ask what involvement/style of editing and content you feel comfortable with.

1st Check in: emails will go out with a form for writers to let us know how they are feeling.

Writers can request assistance/support. Excerpts can be shared but are NOT required.

Claim Previews: Due from writers on August 15. This should be a 200(ish) word summary

Pairings and warnings should be listed. Writers can provide a 100 word excerpt as well.

Blind claims: writers names will NOT be featured on claims.

Artist Sign-Ups: Four day period. Previews will be posted on August 21. Claims begin Aug 22

Artists are committing to create 2 pieces of work for a single fic (or a single video trailer).

Artists CAN sign up to do more than one collab.

Claims: Artists will submit their claims. Sign-ups are on a first come, first serve basis.

2nd Check-In: emails will go out to collab teams asking how folx are doing.

Creators can ask for assistance/support/moderation. Excerpts can be shared but are NOT required.

Posting Dates!: As the season gets under way, we can celebrate with all the amazing work created!

Collab teams will post between October 1-10.

#hrpf #hockey rpf #hockey #events #bang #romance #rewrite the romance

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wangxianficfinder · 8 months

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Junior Centric

~*~

to make an arbitrary wager by moonsteps (G, 9k, Junior Quartet, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post Canon, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Friendship, sizhui and the mortifying ordeal of being the gusu lan heir)

Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ, LSZ & JL, post-canon, family bonding, dramatic revelations)

无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling's Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona)

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon)

home is where we are by halfdemonvash (T, 17k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng are Bad at Communicating, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Feels, Hijinks & Shenanigans, accidental baby acquisition, but it's actually your older brother, references to wwx's past being homeless, and also his past food insecurity, Post-Canon, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Junior Trio Shenanigans)

You Bring the Colour by fuddy_duddy (rainier_day) (G, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Art School, Art Restoration)

a symbol to remind you that there's more to see by paperminds (T, 9k, WangXian, canon-compliant(ish), post-canon(ish), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Moderate Angs, tangst with happy ending, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Twin Idiots, Reconciliation) - Jin Ling & WWX focused, with a healthy side of Yunmeng bros

Anonymous Hero by NeverEnoughWangxian (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivators, Inventor WWX, POV LSZ, Inadvertently Reuniting Your Boss With His Old Crush/Best Friend, Reunions, Handwavy Detective Work, Handwavy Talismans)

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

Lan Jingyi's Sixth Sense by bluesloth (M, 120k, LJY & WQ, LJY & LSZ, LJY-centric, Ghosts, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Friendship, Drama, Humor, Action/Adventure, Family Feels, POV LJY, Canon Era, Minor Wangxian)

Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, People die but they (mostly) get better, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Because JGS and JZN suck, JC is doing his best, JYL fixes everything with soup and a baby, JZX gets it together, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad WWX, good dad LWJ, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Wēn Remnants Live, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, Background Relationships, Fluff and Crack, Podfic Available)

🧡 Lan Sizhui Sees Dead People Series by darkbrokenreaper (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ, JC & LSZ, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, lsz sees dead people, Paranormal)

🔒 Lan Sizhui's Got a Crush! by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 46k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, LSZ/OFC, Humor, Fluff and Crack, Case Fic, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Body Horror, Mild Gore, technically there are two cases in this fic, as a treat, the juniors acting as wingmen for LSZ, or more like they're trying to be good matchmakers, Post-Canon)

🔒 Grim Grinning Ghosts by Theladyofravenclaw (G, 3k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Ghost City, mxtx crossover, WWX's Birthday, the juniors shenanigans, Gambling, slight mention of gore once they enter the city, but nothing very graphic)

🔒 How to Seduce the Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, case fic, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, angst, jealous WWX, YLLZ WWX, gusu lan junior dynamics, mild gore)

🔒 blue flies buzzing by RoseThorne (T, 2k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Gossip, Rumors, Mentioned Wēn Remnants, Sect Leader Yáo Bashing, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, NHS Is A Little Shit, POV LJY, POV Third Person, Threats, Justice, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, LWJ is LSZ’s Parent, LJY Being LJY)

~*~

#wangxianficfinder #mdzs #the untamed #junior quartet #Junior quartet centric comp #junior quartet compilation #long post

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aziraphales-library · 3 months

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First of all, love your blog. As many has said, I have found some amazing fics off of here.

Second, would you happen to know any fics that have to do with discorporation? Like, through plagues or wars? I have been craving some angst recently.

Thank you if you consider this, much appreciated!

Thanks! We have a #temporary character death tag, so do check that out! Here are some angsty sics featuring discorporation to add...

now can these broken wings free me by Bentley26 (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale meet back up in Rome in 140 CE. After an enjoyable lunch, Crowley isn't ready for his time with Aziraphale to end, so he invites him to accompany him to a chariot race being held at Circus Maximus. If he's spending time with his angel, what could possibly go wrong?

Lead Us (Not) Into Temptation, But Deliver Us From Evil by OtterFi (T)

“So… that’s it? We’re just… an angel and demon, following our orders then?” Aziraphale asks quietly, dazed by how the pleasant conversation turned so contentious so quickly. Crowley turns to walk away. “‘S what we’ve always been, hasn’t it?” “So, ah, I suppose I’ll, I’ll see you out there then?” This causes them to pause as the implications sink in. Aziraphale isn’t just going to be witnessing the destruction of a city. He is going to be witnessing the how… and by whom. “Pray that you don’t…” they mutter as they go. And if they were talking to Aziraphale or to themself, it isn't clear.

In 33AD in Rome, a demon sports a new haircut and an angel (to both their surprises) invites them to lunch. But this is not that story. This story takes place a few years before, where finally after 4000 years of paths crossing, the two finally intersect. But such an event is not a small one, and takes no small event for it to happen.

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

La Petite Mort by PanDemonicPanDemonium (E)

Crowley moves from being more allosexual through to demi/greysexual or greyace, as people can change how they feel about things over time. There’s some moderately graphic violence and temporary discorporation but no MCD. there are *minor* character deaths (eg canon Ligur and similar). The fic is canon adjacent/compliant. Detailing events not seen in book/show, but also putting those in context of the character’s feelings during some key canon events. It is largely a tale of personal growth and discovery, and what it means to love another through changing circumstances over time.

Everything Is Temporary (But Love Will Never Die) by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley found he was unable to keep from thinking about the whole situation to the east. Would Aziraphale’s sense of duty get the best of him? Lately he had been telling Crowley he didn’t feel he was performing his angelic duities the best way he could . . . And that’s exactly what he was doing wasn’t it? He overthought his partaking of the pleasures of Earthly life, and now he was going to stay in Jerusalem doing penance for not being a good little angel as he should be. It is 70 AD and the unrest between the Roman Empire and its province of Judea is going to come to a swift end with the destruction of Jerusalem. Crowley flees to Rome, seeing exactly how all this is going to turn out. Aziraphale feels compelled to aid the citizens of the Holy City despite Crowley's pleas that he abandon his cause. Angel and demon are about to get caught up in desperate events that could prove disastrous for them both.

The Beauty of a Broken Angel by Wanderingbard3 (T)

Aziraphale watches the fallen being cast out of heaven and despite the clear message that he's not supposed to feel bad about what's happening, he does. The experience teaches him to distrust his instincts and feelings, awakening the belief in him that there's something fundamentally and dangerously wrong with him. The pleasure he experiences through being embodied and interacting with the world corroborate his fears. He spends the next 6000 years fighting his "flaws", trying to be what's expected of him, and afraid that at any moment he'll be found out. The only time he feels like he can be himself is when he's around a certain demon, the Great Tempter of the Garden of Eden himself. Unfortunately, that only confirms Aziraphale's suspicions about himself. Only a bad angel would feel more comfortable on Earth with a demon than in heaven surrounded by proper angels. But through the course of those years, and the events of the cannon, Aziraphale finds the courage and understanding to be himself, learning that hiding and pretending are far more damaging in the end than facing the consequences of being himself.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #temporary character death #angst #mod d

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wanderingoff · 2 months

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Challengers Fic Recs!

I've completely fallen down the Challengers fic rabbit hole since I saw the movie a second time in June, and I'm surprised I haven't seen any Challengers rec lists floating around! I've read what feels like half the tag at this point, so I decided, hey, I guess that one's on me. I've been really impressed by the overall quality of what I've been reading, so these really feel like the creme de la creme and I hope even if you haven't read Challengers fic before, you give some of them a shot! (I will say, I'm not sure this is the best fandom to read without having seen the film, but the movie is SO good, just watch it and then come back) (Also, I don't read Reader inset fic which seems really popular in the fandom, so no shade to any of those authors, just not my bag!)

I wrote these little summaries cuz this post was so long! Without further ado, in order of length so I didn't have to obsess over that too:

let it once be me by wastelandbaby - 4444 words, M, Post-canon, Throuple, Getting together. Summary: An immediate post-match threesome can't fix what's wrong with them. Tashi and Patrick are texting and Art's crippling insecurity won't let him see what's directly in front of his face. Art POV. Rec: This fic is so short and un-sweet; I want to say it speedruns the beats that make so many throuple getting together fics work except it doesn't feel rushed in the slightest, and the ending is completely unique and honestly took my breath away.

open heart / open container by comosum - 5106 words, M, Post-Canon, Getting together Summary: The throuple is getting together, but Art and Patrick have to have a conversation first. Art POV. Rec: A large portion of this is one conversation and the dialogue fucking slaps. It does an unusually good job of having Art and Patrick directly/explicitly address each other's queerness before initiating sex, managing to thread the needle of "he would not fucking say that" and "it's actually not totally unrealisitic for these guys to be moderately self-aware at least of themselves."

give it a hand, offer it a soul by thcscus - 6493 words, T, Post-Canon, Established Throuple Patrick is playing his best for Art and Tashi. Patrick gets injured. Patrick doesn't know if it's the tennis that's over, or everything. Mixed POV. Rec: In the Exquisite Agony fandom, this is possibly the most Exquisitely Agonizing fic I've read. It's horrific. It's shocking how short it is compared to the rest of this list, but within the first 400 words my heart was in my fucking throat and it didn't come down for the remainder.

a romantic fool by spqr - 10300 words, E, Canon-compliant, Established Throuple. Lily is Patrick's. Art loves her for it. Art POV. Rec: Hands down, the fic that inspired this list and one of my gateway drugs into Challengers fic. I want everyone to read it.

this monstrous fire by kithmet - 10672 words, E, Post-Canon Throuple Getting together. An immediate post-match threesome can fix what's wrong with them. Along with some eavesdropping. Art POV. Bonus: kithmet made an incredible Challengers playlist not specifically for this fic, open relationship Rec: This is the closest thing to a fix-it on this list (it's very far from a fix-it), and I think convincing me these three could possibly figure their shit out in the short timeline of this fic is incredibly impressive character work.

neverland by ameliepoulain - 14079 words, E, Post-Canon, Art/Patrick, Getting together. Patrick quits tennis and moves on. Art quits tennis and does not. Patrick POV. (The second part of the series, second star to the right, is Art POV, pre-throuple, and essential.)(Bonus! Comes with playlist!*) Rec: Of all the fic on this list, I think this one takes the biggest swing on its set-up and for me that completely pays off. The two parts of the series also do an incredible job of demonstrating how opaque these people are to each other and do SUCH a good job of differentiating voices/experiences).

wishbone by a__peach__tree - 18375 words, E, Post-Canon, Throuple, Getting together. An immediate post-match threesome can't fix what's wrong with them. Patrick buys a ticket to the US Open, and waits, and tries to get his life together. Patrick POV. Comes with playlist*! Rec: This author does the most convincing Patrick-trying-his-hardest I've read; the action becomes so interior over the course of the fic and the tension ramps up so high I caught myself talking to the characters out loud, literally begging them to do the right thing.

american doubles by sticky valentine - 19166 words, E, Post-Canon, Throuple, Getting Together. An immediate post-match threesome won't fix what's wrong with them. Art invites Patrick to follow them to Cincinatti. Tashi thinks she knows what's going on. Tashi POV. Rec: I'm SO glad I found this fic before sending this post to press because we need Tashi POV and I think this does a great job of drawing back the curtain on her machinations and leaning into how human, fallible, and confused she is.

make it all look painless by sundaymournin - 20277 words, M, During-canon slight AU Or, this author outright rejects that these three had the self-control to actually stay away from one another. Art POV. Rec: Another true Exquisite Agony fic; it interlaces with canon beautifully and addresses Art's obvious anxiety more directly than anything else on this list, along with his self-loathing. This is the fic that takes the "none of them can stop hurting each other or themselves" to it's logical extreme without like, actual extreme behavior that would break character or make canon events impossible.

Bonus AU: it's getting better by spqr - 9025 words, T, No injury AU Let Art and Patrick be shlubs! Reckon with painful truth of a life in service to a single, unloving dream! Let Tashi find her way back to them anyway! Tashi POV. Rec: For me, the appeal of Challengers is how well crafted the movie is, so I've shied away from the handful of AUs. But a) ALL of spqr's Challengers fics are shockingly good, and b) out of all the fic on this list, this is the one I can most easily hear the dialogue in the actual voices of these characters & their actors, which is a high compliment from someone who does not have a very concrete imagination.

*I made these Spotify playlists based off text lists of songs in the author's notes of these fics.

#Challengers #challengers (2024)#fic rec #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #(i actually have not yet read anything that directly addresses why tashi took art's name and would looove to)#peach-tree-writing #kithmet #i don't think anyone else on here had their url in the authors note or w/e #but would love to be corrected!#lol so glad to be posting i've been being weird about this idea for weeks

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dtfpeta · 1 year

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Stubborn as a Mule | Price x Fem Reader

Tags: porn with plot, non canon compliant, slight gore, angst, angst/comfort, reserved price, medic!reader, switch!price, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Captain Price doesn't want to seek help for an afflicted wound caused while on a mission. When he does, he learns that doctor's visits aren't so bad if you are acting as his nurse.

Read here on ao3!

__________

It had been less than a day since the mission at the Embassy had to be aborted. Nearly all of the task force had been injured to some extent as evacuation efforts were initiated. With this came more stitches and sutures than you could handle as you tended to civilians in urgent need of care while simultaneously patching up your team.

It was an honest to god miracle that your team didn't suffer any fatalities by the looks of their injuries and their bone-deep exhaustion that had peaked once you made it back to home base. The base was quiet. Ghost and Roach sat on a couch in a dark corner off to the back where they polished their guns and took inventory, both suffering from a sprained leg or ankle that was accompanied by other bandaged appendages yet insisted on getting back to work. Gaz paced the floor, operating his neck from side to side in mechanical like motions to ease the crick in his neck as he impatiently glanced at the sling that contained his right arm. Though most of the men had endured some moderate to low level of blunt force trauma, Soap laid in the infirmary of the medical bay as he had suffered a skull fracture. Thankfully, the injury could have been far worse. No surgery was needed and he was prescribed a dosage of Tylenol for the pain as well as being advised to stay on a lengthened bed rest while the injury healed. Soap, of course, argued through a slurry of words that became incomprehensible after a professionally administered amount of hydrocodone. Thus, increasing his level of inebriated rage at the idea of taking leave which would be discussed at a further date. And most definitely argued against.

Price miraculously remained unharmed. Apart from some scratches and bruises to various parts of his body, of course.

"Captain, are you sure there's nothing you need my help with?" You were fatigued beyond reason but this was your job, and sometimes that included 36 hours of no rest. It was your responsibility to make sure the task force was in prime health and that meant putting their needs above your own when called for. Your efforts didn't go unnoticed by any means though. In fact, many offered their help in the infirmary even though their medical knowledge consisted of first-level basics and the handy usage of a tourniquet. They all however, thanked you for your assistance. And if not verbally some would provide a kind yet limp smile or a hand on the shoulder as an acknowledgment of your work.

Price, however, typically resorted to a firm but simple nod. The man now sat in his office revising a map of the area, glasses set low on his nose, and red sharpie hanging out his mouth in place of his usual cigar. You had just passed by to check in for the nth time if he really was okay when his eyes raised above the rim of his glasses to meet yours. It was a gruesome mission and although he was your experienced captain, he was notorious for writing off bloodied abrasions as a casual sore "Positive." He declared. You weren't going to force him into the medical bay but you did want to stress the consequences of an untreated injury. "Mm'kay Captain, but just so you're aware an untreated wound will only mean more doctor's visits." You commented with a fox-like smile. Unimpressed.

Price responded with a low hum of acknowledgment as he averted his attention from you. You guess that the idea of being in your presence was less egregious than you predicted. Or maybe he just didn't care to bother with your theatrics, which was the more plausible explanation. * 2 more days had passed when everyone had seemed to return to the swing of things. Though still restricted in their abilities, now was the time to talk strategy in a mundane routine of meetings. Some of which you weren't required to attend as they pertained to the personal performance of the other soldiers. And though the idea of peaking in while Price grilled his subordinates was appealing, there was work to be done in the infirmary.

The time seemed to pass slower the more you looked at the clock. Eventually, 1:39 became 1:50, which became 1:58, and then 2:03 until you decided your frequent glances only seemed to put some sort of curse on the damned thing. You were brought out of your self-induced frustration by a knock at your office door that connected to the infirmary. "Come in." You said before seeing an army green hat fill the windowed slot of the door. "Captain! I'm really hoping you aren't here to tell me I was right because I am not afraid to tell you 'I told you so-oh-'" Your eyes widened at the sight of your superior walking through the office door with an obvious limp that caused him to clutch the handle of the door, his gaze trained to the ground as he spoke.

"Yeah, yeah. We can get the whole squad in on a celebration after you fix this damn leg-!" He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth after mistakenly applying pressure to his right leg, which now showed a visible blood stain.

You moved quickly to place yourself under his shoulder. Moving your hand to grab at his side and the other to hold his arm as you supported the part of his weight that he couldn't bear. He then laid on a wheeled bed with a long sigh and taut eyebrows that drew together from the pain.

You looked at him with a regretful expression. A silent apology for the mocking mixed with a tinge of disappointment that he was in this situation to begin with. A situation which you had predicted, and given his avoidant attitude, told you that this injury didn't happen on base. You began to roll the stiff cargo of his pants up. Doing your best to be gentle as possible while fighting the adrenaline that told you this wasn't going to be good. The now rolled-up hem of his pant leg began to expose the bleeding wound, the touch of the material eliciting a searing hiss from the man below you.

"Shit, Cap'." You whispered. To call it a gash would be an understatement. What may have once been a gash was now a raised laceration that had become inflamed. You donned your surgical gloves before placing a tender hand to the reddened lump on his leg. Price bit his cheek at the pain as a yellow-like fluid began to leave the wound. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?" You questioned, the disappointed gaze returning to your eyes.

"S' just a flesh wound." He dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"An infected one... you aren't as dumb and dense as all that so I figure you were just too stubborn." You turned to gather your supplies to dress and disinfect the area when you realized his wound looked too gnarly to have only developed in 3 days. "Captain, what happened on the field? Whatever caused this would have caught your attention sooner." You knew the most likely explanation for the worsened state of the wound was, but to hear it from the horse's mouth would give you confidence in your treatment as well as a chance for him to feel guilty about not approaching you sooner.

He sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "To tell ya' the truth I didn't notice it at first. Just a sharp pain n' a scratch." He glanced at you before returning his line of sight to his leg. "It was right after the explosion. The one that sent the debris towards me n' Soap. He was bleedin' real bad and by the time I got him to you the heli was comin' in. Forgot about it is all...till now."

You returned to the marred limb, gauze placed in both palms of your gloved hands. "It's most likely shrapnel lodged below the skin. I'm going to drain the abscess and remove it, okay? You want something to hold onto?"

Price chuckled, "No love, I don't think a styrofoam 'stress ball' will help either of us, yeah?"

So stubborn... You leaned in to drain the wound of the puss and blood that now seeped down his calf. Apart from the initial jolt of pain and the strained muscles of his hands on the railing that caused his veins to take a defined shape, Price remained relatively still. You used forceps to remove what you discovered was a bomb fragment from his leg and applied saline solution followed by sterile gauze.

The fragment itself was maybe no longer than an inch, making it a bitch to have it pulled out of one's body. Regardless, having any foreign object pulled out of the body wouldn't be a blast.

You turned back to your superior, an animated smirk on your face in an attempt to revive the now solemn mood. "All right! You've been a good boy Captain. Let me get you a sucker and some gauze for you to dress it with later. Of course, I would offer to do it myself but you'd probably prefer to deal with it on your own." Your tone was light but Price still disregarded your observation. "And some antibiotics. Twice a day for a week." You placed the bandages and supplies beside him and turned to return your instruments to their cabinet.

A hushed "Thanks" was all you heard before turning to see that the injured soldier had left the infirmary. * Another long day of being planted in your office went by. Price's injury report was added to the list of paperwork that piled on your desk. Begging to be completed or nonetheless, acknowledged. As you were going to return to your office from checking on Soap you noticed the gauze that laid on the bedding Price occupied. Which also reminded you to add the changing of those sheets to your to-do list.

The time was past 11 o'clock pm already. He was sure to be in his room. You exhaled a breath of irritation. Not only will he not help himself, he won't ask you (the professional) for any either. You grabbed at the bandages and began to march to his room.

When you reached the door of his living quarters you lifted your hand to knock but hesitated. He ought to learn the consequences of not taking care of himself. Or listening to medical advice. You thought, but quickly dismissed the idea of abandonment. You were only six inches away from the door and saw the orange tinted light that shone from the bottom crack of the entrance. With a lid of ignorance placed on the bubbling nervousness in the pit of your stomach, you planted a quick but low knock to the door. That was an awful knock... There's no way he heard it. Or maybe he's asleep. You waited a few moments before raising your fist to knock again when the door opened. Behind the door stood Price in a black cotton shirt and long pajama pants. His face wore a quizzical expression before eyeing you up and down and groaning at the sight of the gauze.

"It's nearly midnight," He spoke in a low, sleep glazed tone. "You planning on haunting me in my dreams too? I can't do with more nightmares, love." A quick flush spread on your face before replying, "I think that would be called a dream, Cap'. Plus I saw the light on so don't act so exhausted."

"S' just my nightlight." He said with a blank face.

The crickets that chirped outside the base suddenly became deafening as a silence settled between the two of you. Before you could properly react he interjected, "M' joking... you gonna come in?"

A smile spread across your face as you entered his room. You would have never made fun of him for actually having a nightlight. You're sure it could provide comfort to anyone, especially the scarred soldiers of 141 who typically kept to themselves. It was good, however, to see that his funny bone remained undamaged. "Okay well, you know the drill. Get on the bed soldier." The phrase suddenly sounded more on the nose than intended. If Price had noticed your somewhat suggestive choice of wording, he didn't make it apparent and did as he was instructed. As he crossed the floor you took in the scene of his room. Relatively clean. Actually, really clean, and not much decorating the walls apart from some photos and a few select 80's band posters. On his desk sat a lamp that lit the room a soft but not overbearing orange that allowed for the shadows of the room to make their home for the night. Next to the lamp were his dog tags and a notebook with a pencil sticking out of the bottom acting as a bookmark. Hopefully I didn't interrupt him.

Price cleared his throat from across the room. "You planning on snooping some more or are you gonna get t' work?"

You scoffed before placing yourself on the floor next to his cot. Price sat on the edge, his leg propped up and pant leg already hiked to his knee.

"You know you're very presumptuous Captain. Not even a please." You placed his leg in your lap before removing the bandages from his leg. "I'm not your personal nurse, and if I didn't know any better I'd think you planned this from the start." You teased.

"Yer' delusional love." Love "You caught me, I got a piece of bomb caught in my leg so I could hear ya' talk nonsense for an hour." He finished with a light laugh.

You both fell into light conversation as you worked to dress his leg. You frequently cast your eyes up to look at the man above you. The light of the lamp mixing with your iris, creating a new hue that Price began to familiarize himself with.

Before you could finish, you noticed Price reach his hand behind his neck to massage at the muscle with a strained expression. "I'm gonna get you something." You began.

"I don't need anything."

You paused before looking at him, the playful impression on your face replaced with a more meaningful one. "I'm getting you something."

With that, you got up and hurried to the infirmary to retrieve a pain reliever. You returned with the pill and a bottle of water that he gratefully accepted from you. You took your place back on the ground beside his cot so you could finish your work on his bandage when you looked back up at him, "You think you’d be better on your feet considering how much you tiptoe around me." You tsk'd. "Could've avoided all this mess."

It was Price's turn to flush at the comment when he shook his head. "I don't 'tiptoe'."

"Oh. You tiptoe."

"I just try t' stay out of your way," He said, turning his head to the side to face away from you. "Maybe I'm just not a fan of doctors." He quipped, a smile plastering on his face. You didn't believe that for one bit.

"Besides. I'm glad I didn't avoid it."

You finished your work when you craned your head to look up at him, his eyes already peering at you. You had always had pleasant conversation with Price, a consistent banter that seemed to dwindle in recent weeks. Thus, making you question his enjoyment of your easy-going friendship. As you locked eyes a new emotion appeared in his gaze. It wasn't annoyance, or anger, or any form of irritation, and it undoubtedly wasn't playful. At least from your interpretation.

He haunched his elbows on his knees as he leaned into the now diminishing space between you two, eyes scattering to explore the features of your face.

"Never noticed that." He spoke in a near whisper. Price raised a hand to brush his fingers against a scar that ran above your eyebrow.

You reached to feel at the now faded lance, your hand brushing against his own. "I hardly remembered I had it."

The proximity between you two encouraged thoughts you hadn't had the luxury to divulge yourself into for some time. It wasn't professional to cross such a boundary, especially with Captain Price. But until now, they had only been short-lived fantasies just out of reach.

Price wrapped his fingers between yours, joining your hands as his other came to reach for your cheek. You were sure of that look on his face now. It was want. Which now verged on the crest of need.

"Price..." You spoke.

You didn't want to be arrogant in assuming Price enjoyed this intimacy as much as you did. He was the one to initiate it, however, you knew that. So if he didn't mind crossing a few boundaries you weren't going to stop him. Both of his hands now cradled the sides of your face as you roamed your own to the inner part of his thighs above his knee.

Price sucked in a breath, he wasn't even sure if you reciprocated his feelings until a few minutes ago and now he felt like he was at major risk of complicating things between you two. Before he could morally battle with himself you brought your lips to his for a soft and testing kiss. A grin extended to his face as he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming to find home at the nape of your neck and into your hair. The stubble that covered the lower expanse of his face was sharp against your skin. His plush lips provided a nice contrast as the kiss became more fervent and you rushed to push off your lab coat. Your shoes having been discarded long ago as you made yourself comfortable in the private space of your Captain's room.

"Oi, let's get rid of this too hm?" You stood to remove your shirt with the help of Price's urgent hands who then worked the button of your pants undone till you were left in nothing but a bra and underwear. You were in a near bare state while Price remained in his pajamas. The only evidence of promiscuity being his red stained lips and the half-hard erection in his pants.

"This isn't very fair Captain." You laughed nervously while placing your arms over your body.

Price grabbed at your arms, pulling them from the skin they hid. "Nah none of that. Too beautiful not to let me see." You let your arms fall as he reached to remove his shirt which was then added to the pile of other "unnecessaries" behind you.

"You consider that even playing ground?" You ridiculed. But Price ignored the comment before pulling you to his lap. Thighs now straddling his hips as he began his assault of red love marks against your neck.

"Mmm what was that?" He questioned through muffled lips. The bra was next to be removed. Becoming too frantic to feel his touch, you wanted to provide whatever expanse of skin you had to him. Let him do what he wanted. And he gratefully accepted. His mouth latched to the bud of your hardening nipple while his palm moved to the swell of your breast. A soft moan left your lips at the sensation. His mouth lapped and circled the bud while his fingers twisted and pulled at its counterpart, sending a rush of heat between your thighs.

You ground against Price's lap to find that his erection had become rock solid. The man below you let out a groan as he toyed with your chest. Your hips moved back and forth to provide friction for both of you. The tip of his cock now rocked against your clothed clit, sending your head flying backward and your mouth agape. Price watched your face, his eyelids hanging low from the drunken euphoria you were granting him.

"S-so good" You stuttered. The pleasure was near drowning when the hand that laid on your chest disconnected. Leaving it cold until Price moved to focus the attention of his mouth where his hand once was. He rutted his hips up into your fabric covered core, allowing for his growled noises of pleasure to settle in your ears. His licks against your breast soon became bites that left an imprint of his canines against your skin. He then sucked at the reddened mark to ease the pain, alternating between sinking his teeth into you and pulling your nipple into his mouth. The pleasure was soon heightened by his hand moving to trace at your cunt. The fabric of which was now wet from what once was "dry" humping.

His fingers traced at your clit providing a sensation that left you shuttering above him but in need of more. Which he soon provided as the fabric of your panties was moved to the side to allow him access to your flesh. "I shoulda' taken you sooner" He breathed as his hand delved into your wanting heat. Gathering your slick with two fingers to then massage back into your bundle of nerves. A string of whimpers began to leave your mouth as his pace oscillated from quickened strokes to torturously slow. "Tell me what you need, love."

Your head was hot. You didn't think you could form words if you wanted to. His touch being the only thing your mind could wrap around as your desperate whines began to amplify. "I know sweetheart, but try your best."

You swallowed the pool of saliva that settled on your tongue. "More. Please Captain, I-I need it."

Price grunted at the use of his rank, knowing that he wouldn't be able to think of anything but this moment the next time someone addressed him. He complied to your wishes by taking one of his slick covered fingers and pushing it into your walls. Roaming the hot smooth flesh of your insides while he searched for the sensitive patch of nerves inside.

"You're swallowing me, love" Price watched as your body took in his finger, your pussy keeping him in a vice-like grip that made him groan at the feeling, only being able to imagine his cock disappearing between your legs in place of his hand. He needed to work you open though. Make you ready for him. He soon added in a second finger, glancing up at you to watch your face pinch together from the stretch.

With the help of his second finger, he was able to find the exact spot he was looking for as he thrusted the digits into you, eliciting a blatant moan from you. His fingers scissored into you, now working to stretch you open as he curled in and out of your cunt.

"You think you're ready for me, or do you want to keep feeling my fingers in you?" Your eyes met his as you fervidly nodded your head. "Need you."

It was your turn to take control. Pushing him back to lie on the bed you reminded him of the importance of recovery.

"You should do your best to avoid any strain, Captain." You saddled yourself above his aching cock, his length fighting against the fabric of his pajama pants and boxers that restrained him. "I wouldn't mind taking the reigns for you."

You leaned in for another passionate kiss, your tongues exploring one another's mouth as you both maneuvered to remove his bottoms. "Me neither, love."

He watched you admire his length with a smirk. The size almost made you wish he worked his fingers in you a bit longer if it weren't for the insatiable hunger you had for all of him to be in you. You assumed your position above him, letting him place his hands on your thighs which soon reached to grab at the flesh of your ass. You took his cock in your hands to spread between your folds. Gathering your slick to act as a lubricant before lowering yourself down him. You heard his breath shudder as his head breached your sex. The stretch was more than you could imagine and caused your cunt to burn as you slowed your descent on him.

"Take your time, sweetheart-!" Price grit his teeth at the torment your tight pussy was putting him through. He wanted to be patient and allow you to take your time but his desire was reaching its pique. He needed you just as badly if not more then he was leading on. The hands on your hips helped guide you down his shaft.

"Fuck, Price!" You softly cried, only being halfway down his length. Just as the stretch began to subside, Price dug his heels into the bed to thrust into you, causing you both to moan at the sudden pleasure. Your breathing picked up as you began to bounce on him, his hips pushing up into your cunt as you timed your rhythm to meet with him. Your hands came to wrest on Price's wrist as he watched your sex devour his soaked cock. Taking it in its entirety as he rutted into your g-spot.

You continued to ride his length. The pain was far from gone and only replaced with a feeling of your nerves being kickstarted. The fiery feeling spread through your arms and legs as you quickened your pace.

Price felt you clench around him and let out a whimper of pleasure. His hand moved from your hip to place his thumb on your neglected clit. He circled the slick bud, causing stars to blur your vision. He strengthened the thrust of his hips as your orgasm made its approach. Your legs shaking while the grip you had on one of his wrists was sure to leave a bruise.

"Let it out, love" Price encouraged in a thick glazed tone. "Cum for me darling, please." He struggled to keep himself composed as your cunt spasmed around him. A desperate moan left your lips as you ground against his pelvis to ride out your high. The nerves in your limbs fired off like sparks as Price let out a final grunt, filling you with his hot seed.

You rose off of him as your pussy elicited a wet vulgar sound before you collapsed next to him, his arm resting underneath your head as he placed his hand to your face. He let out a sigh as he placed his lips to yours once again. A tender kiss that told you a sincere thank you for caring for him as well as a message of his endearment to you. You smiled into the kiss before he separated to grab a rag to clean you both up with.

He returned and placed himself between your spread legs, using gentle strokes to clean up the mess he made. He apologized for finishing in you but was met with a dismissive hand from you. Clarifying to him that you were on birth control provided by the modern advancements in technology.

He smiled before cleaning himself off and coming to lay beside you. "You know," he began "I think next time you should wear those gloves of yours."

You laughed at his out of left-field suggestion. "I try to keep work and play separate, actually" "Pshht hardly!" He replied before falling into a fit of laughter. You rolled your eyes before slapping him against the arm. "Well at least not anymore..." He finished with a glance to the wall.

"Guess I'll just have to make more visits to the doctor then." He suggested before you drifted to sleep in his arms, knowing you'd have to plan a clean escape in the morning.

#call of duty #cod smut #price x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #price smut

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