Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’ve always been kind of special. Actually, that would be an understatement. Since you were a born, you were completely unable to feel pain. Despite that, you’ve made it all these years with only a few broken bones and many scars, and parents that floated around you like dandelion seeds. You finally got a breath of freedom as you headed off to Sumeru Akademiya for school.

You stared down at your cup of likely scolding coffee, feeling the steam wet your face and clear your sinuses. You lift your cup to your lips, sipping the brown liquid. A few nights ago at the Akademiya, something very strange happened. While you had no recollection, you as well as the rest of the public were informed by a blonde traveler about a sort of brainwashing incident, conducted by a Fatui Harbinger. You found yourself looking down at your notebook page, which was covered in mindless notes and doodles. You had sketched out a person, a man. He had wavy hair and wore a bird-like mask that covered his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure who this man was, the only thing that existed of him were fuzzy memories of something you weren’t even sure happened.

You then heard heavy footsteps behind you, a deep, honeyed voice broke you out of your trance.

“That’s a lovely drawing,” the person behind you said, their hand snaking around you. Their hand clasped to your mouth, pulling you back against your seat. Slowly, your vision blurs, your breath hitched in your throat.

Thud.

When you came to your senses, you were in a darkly lit room, which was clearly not the outside of the Akademiya anymore. You sat up, trying to reach up to rub your eyes. Your hand was tugged back. You looked down, finding your wrist chained to the headboard of the bed under you. Your wrist was already starting to bruise a soft red.

How long have you been in this room?

You looked around, taking in the space. It was fairly empty, but roomy. There was only the bed you laid on, a table with various objects on it and a door that was likely locked. The window of the door let in a small amount of light, illuminating the floor in front of you.

You felt your stomach sink. Whoever came up behind you must have kidnapped you.

You laid on that strangely hard bed from what felt like hours…or perhaps days. You weren’t sure. The lighting outside never changed, aside from the occasional flicker. Eventually, a dark shadow cast over the door, the handle turning. Your body flinched as the presence made its way into the room.

A man with wavy cyan hair and wore a bird-like mask that covered his eyes. You looked him up and down, frantically.

Could this really be the man that you’ve had stuck in your head for days?

The man cleared his throat, moving forward. He walked until he was right up next to the bed.

“How do you feel, my dear subject?” the man said.

You looked down at your body, checking for any injuries that you obviously couldn’t feel, “I’m fine…who are you?”

“Hm, right. Well, you may call me The Doctor or simply, Dottore,” he pressed his fingers into your bruised wrist. You didn’t flinch or wince, “Interesting.”

You pull yourself upright, “why am I here? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything. I’ve just heard a rumor that you are…special, let’s say. And I saw a perfect opportunity to use it to my advantage. Just from touching your wrist, I can tell they’re likely true, but, let me ask you, pet. Can you really not feel pain?”

You looked up at him, furrowing your brows. You knew you couldn’t lie to him but telling the truth would likely end up with him experimenting on you. Either way, your guts would be spilled.

“N-no, Doctor…I can’t feel pain,” you say, physically biting your tongue at the end of the sentence to shut yourself up.

“Do you always do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Bite your tongue. Hold on, let me see?”

Reluctantly, you stick out your tongue. His gloved thumb and pointer fingers catch the tip as he stares down at your soft pink tongue.

“It would seem like your tongue is covered in scars,” he said, running his fingers up the flesh, pressing them against the root. You gag, pulling away quickly.

Dottore laughed, “seems like you still have a gag reflex,” he patted your head, “You do know what that means, right?”

“That I can still feel some pain?” you asked, confused and more than slightly frightened by this interaction.

“No, dear. It means you’re not a whore,” he said, far too casually and stood up, walking across the room to the table.

Your face scrunched into a bewildered expression, what is this man talking about? As his nimble hands danced across the tools on the table, your chest filled with something you’ve never felt before.

Dread.

Chapter Text

Dottore held up a pair of scissors, “now, while I’m not concerned about having to use local anesthetic, I am worried about you passing out, or worse, dying from blood loss.”

Your eyes widened, squirming, “what on Teyvat are you going to do to me?” you asked.

Dottore walked up to you, grabbing your chin. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “I just want to cut you open, prod around and see what exactly happens.”

“P-please don’t…you’ll–you’ll…”

“I’ll what? Hurt you? You know that’s not going to happen,” he let out a sarcastic laugh, “what you lack in smarts you make up for in looks.”

“Excuse me–”

“Shush, pet. I’m thinking,” Dottore said, lifting your shirt. Your fingers dug into the blanket on the bed, looking down at Dottore’s hand.

He scooped you up, pushing the tools out of the way. He placed you down on the table, looking down at you. He tugged your shirt over your head and without giving you a moment to breathe, stabbed into your stomach with the pair of scissors.

The pressure of the scissors cutting through your flesh made you squirm. You let out a cry of fear.

“I told you, be quiet,” Dottore said, dragging the pair of scissors from your pubic bone to under your breast bone. Blood dripped down your sides onto the table underneath you, dampening your back and pants. Dottore buried his fingers in your guts, pulling your skin and muscles apart.

Your breathing became frantic, your fingers digging into the table. Your body arched off the table, causing Dottore to push you back down.

“Why are you so scared?” he asked softly, his fingers prodding at your intestines.

“Maybe because you cut me open?” you bit back, looking up at him.

“Will you behave if I offer a reward?” he asked, stuffing his entire hand between your guts and your flesh.

You went quiet, not daring to take his bribe. You remained silent as he worked, aside from the occasional gasp when he would pull an organ out of place, which was a sensation you’ve never felt before.

After what felt like hours, Dottore reluctantly put everything back where it approximately belonged and stitched you up. You felt faint, likely from blood loss. The room was spinning as he sat you up, bandaging your mid section. He spread his hand over your chest.

“You did good,” he said, rubbing your chest, moving up to your jaw, “let’s get you into a bath.”

Dottore scooped you up once more, carrying you bridal style. He took you out into the hall, causing you to bury yourself in his chest, desperate to not be seen by anyone else. He carried you until he reached a large door, pushing it open. This room was clearly his lab, filled with medical and mechanical equipment. At the far end of the room was yet another door. He set you down, walking you over to the door.

When he pushed the door open, inside was a clean, white tile room. A large raised bathtub sat in the right corner. In the other corner was a toilet and a sink.

“Take off your clothes,” Dottore ordered, sitting down on the edge of the bath, beckoning you closer. You press your back against the door, looking over at him.

“N-no,” you stammer. You didn’t want to get naked in front of him. You didn’t want to get naked in front of anyone frankly. You’ve never felt very comfortable with your body, especially around men.

“You need to take off your clothes to take a bath,” The Doctor said, standing up. He walked up to you, brushing his fingers through your hair, “you’re very strange, you know. You let me cut you open but you won’t get naked in front of me.”

“I didn’t let you cut me open!” you snapped.

“Always the victim, aren’t you, pet?” his hands slipped around your waist, “you need to learn to do what you’re told.”

He pulled you closer to his chest. He tugged your pants and underwear down, exposing you to him. He lifted you, setting you down in the bath. You squirmed as he dropped you into the water.

“Is the temperature alright?” Dottore asked, “can you even feel temperature?”

“The temperature is fine…” you mumble, pulling yourself in, covering all of your vulnerable parts. The water sank into your bandages, making you feel gross and sticky. Dottore turned you around, washing your back.

“Tell me about yourself,” Dottore said. It wasn’t a request but rather a demand.

“W-well, I am a student at the Akademiya,” would it be is or was? How long without attending school would get you expelled? How long have you been away? Where were you even? You had too many questions, all of which you were too scared to ask The Doctor.

“I know,” Dottore said, his hand brushing against the small of your back, “please turn,” he says, the gentlest he’s ever sounded. You turned around. He cleaned your chest, thighs and groin. He scooped water into his cupped palms, pouring water over your head.

“Tell me something I don’t already know about,” The Doctor pried.

“Why should I tell you a thing?” you retort, trying to cover places that his hands were getting too close to. Places that have never been seen by anyone but yourself.
“Fine, be that way.”

Once Dottore was done cleaning you up, he pulled you out of the tub, toweling you off. Dottore lead you out of the bathroom. He grabbed a loose shirt and tugged it over your head. The Doctor then grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a different room attached to the lab. It was a padded room with a bed in the corner. He pushed you to the ground.

“Goodnight, pet,” Dottore said curtly, leaving the room and locking the door. You didn’t have time to protest, or even say goodnight back. You sat on the floor, staring down at your legs, the realization of your situation washing over you. You were trapped here. With a frankly psychotic man who wanted to hurt you, despite the fact you couldn’t feel it.

Your breath hitched, you reached to wipe your face. It was already wet with tears. You laid back on the pads of the floor, curling into a ball. You might die here. You need to get out.

Eventually, you cried yourself to sleep on the ground, your body shaking and heaving.

Chapter Text

You’re awoken by the sound of the heavy door being pushed open. You sat up, feeling stiff all over. You could barely move or see as a rough, gloved hand grabbed your chin.

“Good morning, dear,” a familiar voice hummed, sounding like he was in a particularly good mood.

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and looked up at The Doctor. His fingers brushed against your cheeks, inching towards your mouth. When his thumb met your bottom lip, you snapped.

You sink your teeth into the flesh of his finger through his glove. Dottore didn’t gasp. He didn’t flinch. He simply pulled his hand from your mouth, slapping you clean across the face.

“I had an experiment in mind for today, but I have a new idea,” he grabbed you by the hair, dragging you out of the room. He pushed you into a chair. The chair wasn’t a regular chair, it was clearly a dental chair. A tray of tools sat next to you.

Oh shit…

Dottore picked up a tool, a pair of dental pliers. He gripped your jaw, prying it open. He stuffed the pliers in your mouth. You tried to speak, to yell, but with his hand in your mouth, you couldn’t. The pliers locked around your molar, twisting it with a harsh crack. Your hands snapped to his, trying to pull the pliers from his grip.

“Stop moving or I will pull out every single one of your teeth,” Dottore snarled. He pulled his hand away and in turn, the pliers.

“How do I know you won’t do that anyway?” you asked. The hand holding your jaw squeezes harder.

“I’ll promise you something, my dear. I will never lie to you,” Dottore stroked your chin.

“Why…?” you felt yourself subconsciously leaning into his touch.

“I have no reason to. If I tell you something you shouldn’t know, I can simply kill you.”

You lifted your head up to his chest. He cupped your head to his body. “Aren’t you just adorable?” Dottore cooed. It felt strange, letting Dottore be affectionate with you. Dottore pulled you up, forcing you to stand. He pressed a kiss to your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Your eyes widened, unable to close. As much as you felt you were ruining the intimacy of the kiss, you couldn’t let your guard down. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.

He explored every crevice of your mouth, like it was an undiscovered ancient ruin. His tongue pressed into the cavity that once was your molar. Your body ached, though you knew it wasn’t pain, it couldn’t be.

But when he pulled away, the ache stayed. His hands met your waist, pushing you back down in the dental chair. He stared down at you, like you were simultaneously the most beautiful and pathetic creature in the entire world. His knee bumped your legs open, His hand slid underneath your shirt.

“What are you doing?” you asked, his other hand tipping your head to look up at him.

“What do you think?” Dottore tugged your shirt off, running his hand down his chest.

“Are we…?” you reached up, catching his hands. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and it was one of the strangest things that you’ve ever experienced. Dottore simply nodded, his lips on your neck.

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Dottore pulled away from you, zipping his pants. You stared up at him, your body feeling strangely numb all over. “Was that your first time?” The Doctor asked, finishing doing up his belt. You nod, unsure what to say or feel. Dottore ruffled your hair, making it clear how he felt. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Dottore–” he cut you off.

“Save it,” he squeezed his eyes shut, sighing. His fingers carded through his hair.

“No,” you snapped, “what the fuck was that?”

“Language, pet.”

“No. Dottore, listen,” you pulled yourself up, your legs shaking from being seated for too long. “Was that…normal?” your voice trembled, for once in your life, being so sheltered actually made you feel so innocent.

“Was what normal? Nothing about this is normal. You and I aren’t normal,” Dottore leaned over, touching your face, “most people would be in pain after this. But not you.”

Dottore pulled you close and you felt heavy, tired, weak. He looked down at you, “you’re so cute. I almost feel bad about what has to be done to you.” You cocked your head as he pulled away, only long enough to leave you longing for him. He pressed his hand behind your neck and you felt something cold and sharp stab into the base of your head. You slumped forward, going slack.

“Good night, pet.”