#dottorefanfic

The sterile scent of chemicals filled the dimly lit laboratory, where glass instruments clinked and tubes of strange liquids bubbled quietly. Dottore stood at his workbench, gloved hands steady as he made minute adjustments to a mechanical device—a device that pulsed with the same rhythm as a heartbeat. In the far corner of the room lay *his most perfect experiment.*

You.

A beautiful amalgamation of flesh and machinery, your body was a testament to his brilliance. When he found you, you had been fragile, broken beyond repair. But that didn’t matter to him. You were no longer just human. Your bones had been strengthened, muscles enhanced, and where organic tissue once failed, intricate mechanisms now pulsed in harmony with your blood. And through all of it, you remained conscious—awake through every procedure, tethered to him not just by your new, enhanced body but by something far more dangerous: affection. "How are you feeling today?" Dottore’s voice cut through the quiet. It was soft but laced with that clinical detachment you’d grown used to.

You shifted on the table, the cool metal under your back reminding you how far from human you had become. The whirring of gears within your limbs echoed slightly as you adjusted yourself to sit up. "Functional," you answered, a small smile curling your lips. "Though I think you already know that, considering you’re the one who made me like this."

His lips twitched at the corners—something almost resembling amusement. Dottore was not known for kindness, but there was a strange satisfaction he seemed to derive from your presence, as if you were the culmination of all his experiments. Yet, you were more than just a subject to him, weren’t you? "You are... improving," he remarked, stepping closer. His gloved hand reached out to lift your chin, tilting your face to the dim light.

His sharp eyes scanned every part of you, searching for flaws, imperfections. But there were none. You were his creation, after all. A masterpiece. "Do you ever regret it?" you asked softly, the words breaking through the silence like glass. "What you did to me?" Dottore’s hand paused, still cradling your chin. His scarlet gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something beyond the cold exterior—something resembling pride. "Regret?" He scoffed, but it wasn’t cruel. "You were weak. I made you better. Stronger. You should thank me." "I do," you whispered, leaning into his touch.

His thumb grazed over your jaw in an almost delicate motion, a gesture that seemed strangely out of place from someone like him. Dottore did not know love in the way others did. He knew only control, precision, and obsession. Yet, with you, those lines blurred. You weren’t just an experiment. You were his. Entirely, irrevocably his. "Do you understand, now?" he murmured, voice low and deliberate. "You are the future. A perfect fusion of flesh and machinery. Without fear, without weakness. That... makes you valuable."

You could tell from the way his gaze darkened that 'valuable' meant something much deeper. It was the closest thing to affection you’d ever get from him, but it was enough. You didn't need his love—not in the way others might. You needed *this*: the way his eyes lingered on you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered, the way his hands brushed your skin with a possessive tenderness no one else would ever experience.

"I wonder," you said, tilting your head. "Do you ever think about what I was before? The person I used to be?" He chuckled—a low, velvety sound. "No. That version of you was insignificant. *This* is who you were meant to be." And in that moment, you realized something: Dottore had not just made you his perfect creation. He had made you his obsession. A masterpiece he could never tire of. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting against your ear. "Do you doubt my work?" You shook your head slowly, a small smirk playing at your lips. "Never. But I think you enjoy this version of me a little too much." "Perhaps."

His voice was a purr now, dark and full of unspoken promises. "And if I do? You belong to me, after all. Mind, body, and soul." And strangely, that didn’t bother you. In fact, you found comfort in it—the knowledge that no matter how monstrous you’d become, you were *his* monster. A beautiful abomination crafted by the hands of a madman. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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