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Between a Rock and a Hard Place | Il Dottore and Pantalone (NSFW)

A/N: Thank you Yaeuwb!

A sigh, a tut, the jingling chime of a singular earring.

Your eyes cannot focus on a singular object in his haphazard lab. There are the multiple Fatui insignias hung on the wall, gleaming lab apparatus laying dead on a metal tray, skewered and tainted with a more bronze shade of rouge. Vials filled with luminescent liquids and beakers labelled with coloured paper tabs are lined up on the glass shelves on the transparent divider, blocking off "the chair", a blue dentist chair stripped of its padding. Perhaps the doctor aimed to make it much like a torture chair in which one is strapped into, seeing the cuffs, red leather straps and an unfastened metal band attached to the both wonderous yet mortifying contraption. The air tastes heavy, the scent of fresh Sumeru roses morphing into a sickly sweet taste as it lands on your tongue.

You're not supposed to be here, you're not a rogue ruffian that's got yourself involved with the worst military organisation in Teyvat. You're supposed to be studying in the Akademiya, slowly yet surely rotting away in the comforting pool of knowledge and surrounded by books on ley lines and the science of elemental energy. The singular book that is in your hand is your own notebook, one of many that you possess to note your findings, revise questions from ancient textbooks. As your fingers glide over the leather cover and caress the studded emerald on the strap fastening the book together, you shiver at the freezing pulse that trickles up your being, the chilling atmosphere out of place in the scorching deserts of Sumeru.

"That ruin guard, of all the ruin guards you could come across, you come across Hu-1117? And you research that one? What a peculiar situation you got yourself in, researcher." Il Dottore chuckles behind you, his pitiful words dripping with hints of pure amusement. The puff of his breath on your left causes a bloom of warmth to taint the shell of your red ears, his gloved finger tracing a line down the spine of your leather notebook and then slowly tracing circles on the palm that rests on the book. "I know you're a good little gem, studying so hard in that pretty library with all of those boundless opportunities. I know, darling, I know that feeling."

He faces you, and although your eyes flutter downwards in fear, he leans in closer as if he were taking curiosity in a butterfly. You felt like one, too. Pinned down by his words that slowly drive themselves in to ensure your stationary position.

"I know that gleam in your eyes, I have it too. I know you want to learn everything there is to know about the world. What the world has to offer, what mysteries that have yet to bare themselves to your intelligent little brain. You like learning for the thrill, don't you?" His words caress you in a sinister yet seductive manner. He's praising you, but you feel tiny and helpless. 

"I believe I asked you a question." His soft voice hardens and you jolt and squeak as he slams a hand onto the armrest of your chair. He cooes at the terror contorting your visage, reaching out to rub one of your shoulders.

"I-I do, I like learning." You speak out, your voice hushed and trembling like a bird in a forest coated in the fondant-white of winter.

"Good, good. So you and I are in an agreement that your future is bright, and that nothing should tarnish it. Am I right?"

His gaze from his mask is piercing yet enthralling, your body both melts at his elegant yet malevolent gestures and freezes up when his voice bellows an order.

"Yes, doctor." You look up at him, his arms caging you into your chair as he grasps the arms of your chair. He revels in the frantic and fluttering of your tentative gaze.

"So let's forget about this, alright?"

Oh, Archons, you are a blessed one.

You gasp, relieved that your life is spared and you stand up, bowing for thanks and heading towards the door in a hurry, nearly tripping on the foot of the chair. Dottore smiles sweetly at you from his mask.