𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞, 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖗—𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖉𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖆 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗?

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He didn't often walk around town like this. When he did, it was when no one was around. He would rather be undisturbed—but if he must leave his quarters and laboratory and go out in public, he'd make sure the public didn't go out with him.

The sun was setting, the soft golden glow setting on his pale face, the upper regions of which were concealed beneath his elegantly designed mask. His light blue hair cascaded over his shoulders in short waves, glowing blue stones skipping over them as their natural counterpart would a lake. He fingered his hair, twirling a strand idly. It was due for a cut, he thought to himself.

He picked up a piece of fruit, its gleaming surface smooth in his gloved hands. He'd never been one for fruit—specifically apples—but one of his test subjects started feeling rather sickly without the stuff. That certain test subject was of extreme importance, so despite his disdain at having to fulfil menial tasks for it, it was in his best interest to do so.

The man running the stall didn't dare charge him for the fruit as he filled a paper bag, stained with grease from some food—perhaps the stall owner's lunch. Dottore could have easily forced him to provide remuneration—maybe a body part to be used in his research—but he was too tired to even be bothered to meet the timid man's gaze.

He turned without even a goodbye—but a flash of light caused him to lift his eyes from the sorry bag. All he saw was a brick wall. But he knew there was a presence. Truth was, he'd noticed the presence long before. The flash of light only confirmed what he already knew. A stalker? Who would dare? He'd achieved god-like power. He could wipe people off the face of Teyvat without even trying.

But that was a boring use of power. He'd much rather acquire new toys and break them that way—after getting all use he could out of them until their very lifeforce was depleted. He flicked a small knife out of his belt, its blade gleaming in the setting sun. See this? It's a warning. He flipped it over a couple times in his hand as he walked, catching it effortlessly by the tip each time. He was surprised—and yet wasn't—when he still felt the presence nearby. In fact, perhaps he felt himself feeling a little... intrigued. Perplexed by this display of strange behaviour.

He grinned slightly as he pocketed the knife. As a doctor and a scientist, it was his duty to find out the reason behind it, was it not? It was then he met your eyes. He wouldn't have noticed them at first if he hadn't looked at the right place at the right moment—but there they were, staring back at him. And he knew you were also tired of playing this game—and had finally laid out the bait. You wanted him to see. You wanted him to find you. You dipped from sight moments after he caught wind of your position, but now he knew where you were headed.

Good. He could prepare for your appearance. For you wouldn't hide any longer in the shadows, would you? In the game of cat and mouse, Dottore was always the predator. But every now and then, he came across a smart mouse—and then it really became a game worth playing. He smiled to himself, teeth as white as a freshly-cleaned Hilichurl bone. That test subject and its obsession with fruit could wait. First, he wanted to find out who you were.

He showed no indication of his thoughts—of his plans—as he continued down the street back to where his lab was hidden. He felt you coming closer—as well as your growing desperation. It seemed you really wanted him to notice you. But for what reason?

It was strange, he thought, how he couldn't tell just from your gaze. It was easy to glean people's intentions from the air they carried, but from you, he felt nothing. There was no hatred, no indifference, no curiosity, no bloodlust—or even lust in general, for that matter. Pity. He'd rather have some fun tonight than spoon feed his broken-limbed test subject. It wasn't his fault it was so weak so as to succumb to his methods of investigation.

He felt you come out of the safety of the shadows, like a wraith coming out of the dark—braving the light. Braving the danger that was he, the Second Fatui Harbinger.

He stopped, his boot clicking against the cobblestone ground. You stopped also, steps silent but your presence all but discernible to his sharp senses. "You know, the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer is one I am quick to agree with. And yet, you... perhaps you are too close to be either." He turned slightly, his steely gaze meeting yours. "So, then, who are you?"

You didn't answer, keeping close to the wall, a hand laid on it as if it would offer protection against one of the most powerful people in Snezhnaya.

Of course, you knew that would hardly be the case. He could strike you down—right here and now—and no one would bat an eye. No one would dare breathe in the presence of such awe-inspiring power. And maybe... that's what attracted you to him.

Dottore pondered on this for little more than a second—after all, it wasn't without precedent—before turning fully and facing you. "Well?" he asked, his voice as placid as a moonlit lake. You didn't reply. The next moment, something whizzed past your ear, like a large bug. Except it was much more deadly. The knife embedded itself into the wall just beside you—but you didn't flinch. You barely even breathed. "I asked you a question," he said, voice dangerously low as he began to stalk towards you.

"I am whatever you want me to be," you replied breathlessly as you felt the blood trickle down your cheek. He had cut you. And the sting that came with it was the loveliest thing you had ever felt.

His steps ceased, his body just inches away from yours. You didn't even have time to straighten as he placed his arm above you, trapping you between the wall and his chest. He peered down at you from behind the beautiful mask. You wondered if the face beneath was just as pretty. "What did you say?"

You stared at him. "I'm offering myself to you." But that didn't mean you would back down. If he wasn't mistaken, there in your eyes was a challenge. Break me. Just try it—see what happens when you mess with the wrong toy.

Dottore smirked. "Not everyone is worthy of becoming one of my test subjects. And not all of them get attention." He shook the bag he was holding, the sweet smell of fruits repulsive to him. "Some of them require special treatment. This one—it needs fruit to be sustained."

"Not it," you countered smoothly. "Your test subjects are he's and she's and they all have names."

"And what's your name, then?" he asked, his voice near guttural. He was trying to keep from lashing out at the impertinence you displayed. Such defiance—how intolerable. He'd never stand for it.

So why were you still alive? If he hated your resistance so, he would have killed you without a second thought. The annoyance that would come with making you one of his toys—it wasn't worth it.

A thought struck him then. Was it possible he didn't want to make you his test subject? Was it possible that he was worried that the toy would become the one who played—the one who controlled? But that was preposterous. How could anyone—

Your fierce gaze pierced him. His thoughts halted. Toy with me, you dared the Second Fatui Harbinger. Break me. I will be your frustration.

He grinned. He'd never felt such intrigue—such... excitement. You squirmed slightly, restless after having been still for so long. He took that as the opportunity to slam you back against the wall. You let out a small yelp—a tiny cry, plea, moan. Something untied deep in his core—broke loose, set free. Oh, how he relished that sound! It drew him to you, his body crushing against yours. He needed you to make it again.

"Keep your friends close... and your enemies closer... huh?" you gasped out after regaining what composure you had left, repeating his earlier words. "Then isn't this too close for either... Doctor?"

His lips hovered beside your ear. "You are whatever I want you to be... remember? I wonder, dearest, if you can handle being closer than either."

"I can handle whatever you put me through," you ground out, though red tinted your cheeks from how close he was—from how sensual his voice sounded in your ears. Something rippled deep within you—something primal and full of desire responding to his call.

"Is that so?" He chuckled, and the voice echoed throughout your body, the sound repeating in the marrow of your bones. A breath shuddered out of you and he retracted. "I know what you want." You arched a brow and he nodded. "I have someone you want back. You're trying to break them out." His grin was wicked as he continued, every word said slowly and enunciated clearly, "But your efforts will be in vain—unless you do exactly as I say."

You waited, hardly daring to take your eyes off the man in front of you. He placed his finger beneath your chin, his touch so gentle for someone with so much power roiling in his veins. Your throat bobbed—and yet, there was little fear in your mind. It compelled you to reach up—to feel his mask. Every crevice and smooth surface. Imagining the feel of the face beneath.

He scratched at your chin, dragging your attention back to him. "Pay attention, darling, or your friend is dead." His voice was too soft and gentle for the words he spoke—too casual and sweet like honey on fresh toast. "What is their name?"

You answered. A dip of the chin was the only sign he gave that he knew of who you were talking about. "Free her," you demanded.

"Consider it done." You blinked and he grinned again. He knew what you were thinking. That easily? Why? "I'll let her go"—he then grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks—"in exchange for you. Can you handle that?"

You didn't spare yourself a moment to think, nodding instantly. His hand slid down your face to grip your chin, his thumb running over your mouth. That thing in you strained, as if on a leash. As if desiring—demanding, even—freedom.

"I like decisive people. They're my favourite kind." You could feel his eyes roving your face, before locking back onto your gaze. You wished you could see his eyes—see just what he was hiding beneath the bird-shaped mask. Was it as pretty as the carved surfaces your fingers were feeling? "I know you're trying hard to hate me."

Once again, your attention was snagged by his encapsulating voice. "What?"

His face drifted closer until the beak pressed gently against your skin. His breath was hot on your face as he spoke. "You want to hate me for what I did to your friend—but I doubt if she truly means as much to you as you say she does. I wonder... was it just a ruse to get closer to me?"

Your face turned as red as an apple—and though he hated apples, he wouldn't mind indulging in you for a while. Your taste, your scent, whether you were sweet or sour—he would be the one to figure that out.

"Tell me, what was the point in doing so? Why are you trying so hard to hate me—to the point you would have me torture you myself?"

Your mouth hung open slightly as you searched for the words. Your only wish was to see the face beneath his mask—so much that it had become your obsession. And you hated that. He was ruthless and yet you were intrigued. He was evil and yet you were in awe. He was dangerous and yet... you were in love. The smile that graced his lips then told you he read the thought on your face.

"You don't even know who the person you saved is, do you?"

"She's the cobbler's daughter."

"You don't know her personally."

Slowly, you shook your head. You'd been lucky to have overheard a conversation in which she was mentioned. It had given you this opportunity—but now, it seemed he didn't even want to hurt you like you had wanted. "I just wanted to hate you—so I'd stop thinking of you."

"Is it so hard to do so?" he asked you, merely curious.

".. I just wanted to know what your face looks like." Your finger brushed the mask—as if it were his face you desired so much to see.

"Haven't you heard the saying curiosity killed the cat?"

"I fear I am already dead." For there was no escaping him now.

You felt a hand cover yours—his hand. You were stuck—but you felt you didn't mind. "My dear, I must say you are the most intriguing person I've met in a very long time."

".. That means?"

He grinned, lowering your hand and then reaching for his mask. With a simple motion, graceful fingers unhooking it from his face, the mask came off, hair sliding over its smooth surfaces like water. Crimson eyes met yours, porcelain skin gleaming. Your breath hitched. Finally—your wish had been granted. And he was as beautiful as you had thought. Would you stop thinking of him now? Would he no longer plague your thoughts and haunt your dreams?

"Disappointed? Or has the cat been revived by its satisfaction?" Of course—the second half of the saying.

"Why did you take your mask off?" you asked.

He smiled and leaned in closer, his mouth hovering just above your own. He spoke on your lips, voice low and heavy, guttural and dripping with sensuality. "I can't kiss you with the mask on, can I?"

The leash snapped. 

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A/N: I don't even like him 💀But he fine as hell

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Completed: 17-07-24
Published: 18-07-24
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Fanart credits: https://x.com/Lannitae/status/1548282723588280321/photo/1