What could possibly go wrong when a deranged doctor and Sumeru's most merciless hitwoman strike a mutually beneficial arrangement to collude? It all starts with an unexpected twist when lethal secrets are revealed.
dottore x fem!reader
cover art : c...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
This was a scam.
That was to be expected when you left the Fatui building feeling exactly the same way you came in. You'd suspected it from the start, especially considering how awful your fortune had been the entire voyage here. True, things could take unexpected twists—and you had to be okay with that—but you were honestly too disappointed to care. You got your hopes up for nothing.
Here you were, breathing heavily and staring in defeat at the dented tree. Aside from borrowing a random bystander, what better and faster way to test your newfound strength than on a thick tree trunk? That was what you spent the past few minutes doing: punching the bole repeatedly with a closed fist. All you got out of it was fractured knuckles.
If trees could communicate, they'd all be pointing and laughing at you. Why did you even bother trying at all after the first blow had no impact? Dottore basically did nothing to your body.
You were drained from devoting all of your energy to the tryout, your legs vigorously lifting your body weight up despite your need to fall. That wouldn't have been a wise choice anyhow, because you weren't dressed for the weather. If your elevated body temperature hadn't warmed you up, you would have frozen to death.
Your body slumped forward as you rested both hands on your thighs, seeking to regulate your breathing. Despite your best attempts, your hand wouldn't stop shaking. Not after all the agony you inflicted on it. Of course, you could've prevented this if you'd acted more rationally, especially because the problem was fixable—you'd simply return to Dottore.
You recovered enough energy to raise your upper body when your ears picked up on approaching footsteps. The crunching of the snow beneath their feet disclosed the individual's whereabouts, and your eyes raced in that direction, only to be calmed when you recognized the familiar face.
"The experiment failed." You informed the Doctor, who examined the tree's battered trunk first, then you. There was no other option but to presume he had pursued you after your departure. The only things that set him apart from earlier were his huge black winter coat and boots, as well as his stony expression when you announced the conclusion of his experiment.
