Can you write a part 2 to the zombie dottore fic? IT WAS SO GOODDDD and like the after effects or fluff? If you do look at this request TYSM!! :)) IM ADDICTED TO YOUR WRITING AAHHHHHHHHHHH
The world outside was quiet. Not the comforting kind of quiet but that heavy silence that pressed down on your chest like a weight. The kind that reminded you everything out there was dead… or worse, not dead enough.
Dottore watched you sleep. His head tilted, inhuman eyes catching the moonlight through the cracked window. His breathing was slow, but not quite human. You’d gotten used to the way he lingered too close, how his hands sometimes hovered over you when he thought you weren’t looking.
But you didn’t know what he had done that night.
Your breathing was steady, your body curled in a makeshift nest of blankets near a table in the laboratory that Dottore brought you in and deemed it safe enough to stay. Your pulse, fragile, warm, and alive, throbbed softly in your neck. It was intoxicating to him. He crouched closer, a low, rumbling sound escaping his throat. A sound that wasn’t entirely human anymore.
Dottore’s lips parted, revealing sharpened teeth. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But the instinct, the need to make you his, to keep you tethered to him, was too loud.
Slowly, like a predator, he leaned in. His cold breath ghosted over your skin.
Sharp pain bloomed at the base of your shoulder. You jerked in your sleep with a soft noise, but he covered your mouth gently, holding you still with surprising care for something so monstrous. His teeth sank deep, not enough to kill, but enough to mark. Enough to plant the infection.
When he pulled away, your blood smeared his mouth. He licked it clean with slow, obsessive precision. His eyes softened, not with guilt, but with twisted satisfaction.
“Now,” he whispered, voice low and raspy, “you’ll never leave me.”
You woke up hours later, groggy and shivering. You touched your shoulder and winced. A strange ache pulsed there. But you convinced yourself it was just from sleeping weirdly. Just a scratch. You didn’t notice the faint teeth marks hidden under your shirt.
At first it was subtle, your hands shaking, your head pounding. You brushed it off. But then your heart wouldn’t stop racing, your vision blurred in waves, and your veins burned like fire under your skin.
“Dottore,” you panted one night, clutching the table as your knees buckled. “Something’s wrong.”
He was there instantly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. His cold hands gripped your chin, tilting your head so he could look at your pupils that were blown wide, feverish. His smile was too calm.
“Of course there is,” he murmured. “Your body’s… changing.”
Your pulse thundered in your ears. “Changing?” You gritted your teeth as another wave of heat crashed through your chest. “What the hell did you do to me?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, like he was memorizing the shape of you. His gaze softened in a way that made your skin crawl.
“You’ll understand soon,” he whispered. “You’re becoming mine.”
The realization hit you like a punch. You stumbled back, clutching your burning shoulder.
“You bit me,” you breathed, voice trembling. “You.. you infected me.”
A sharp laugh escaped him. It wasn’t cruel. It was thrilled.
“Of course I did. I couldn’t risk losing you to this world.”
Your breathing turned shallow, panic mixing with the infection’s heat. Your nails dug into your own arms. “You.. you should’ve asked! I didn’t want this!”
He stalked forward, cornering you against the wall. His movements were smooth, predatory, but he wasn’t lunging. He was claiming space.
“Asked?” He tilted his head. “You wouldn’t have said yes.”
“And that’s exactly why—” you tried to shove him away, but your body trembled too hard, “you don’t just take someone’s life from them!”
But Dottore’s voice softened in a way that was almost crueler than his smile.
“No, little one… I didn’t take your life. I’m giving you something better.”
“A world where you’ll never die without me.”
You flinched when his fingers touched the bite mark again. It burned under his touch, not just from infection, but something deeper, crawling into your veins, your thoughts. You tried to fight it. You had to fight it.
Your vision blurred. The infection was winning.
“Stop… stop it—” you gasped.
He cupped your face, thumbs pressing just under your jaw, forcing your fevered gaze to meet his. “Shh,” he hummed. “Breathe. Let it happen. It’ll hurt less.”
The world tilted. You fell forward, but he caught you before you hit the floor. His arms were cold, steady. The warmth of your blood against his chilled skin made him shudder with something dangerously close to pleasure.
You clutched his shirt weakly, your breathing uneven. “I hate you,” you whispered, voice cracking.
“No,” he breathed against your hair. “You will love me.”
As your body convulsed, your heartbeat slowing and sharpening into something unnatural, he held you tighter. Outside, the night groaned with the distant cries of the undead. Inside, Dottore smiled, because the one thing he wanted most was finally turning into what he was.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered into your feverish skin.
“And I’ll never let anyone take you away.”
Or rather… it burned itself out.
You gasped awake, the world around you strangely sharp, too sharp. The sound of wind through the broken windows rang like a blade against your skull. Every scent, every shift of movement, every creak in the ruined lab was loud. Your heart didn’t thud in your chest anymore. It hummed.
Dottore was sitting in the chair by your makeshift bed, his chin resting on the back of his hand, watching you like he’d been there all night.
His expression was serene. Patient.
“There you are,” he murmured, rising with a fluid, inhuman grace. “My beautiful monster.”
Your hands shook as you pushed yourself up, the world spinning but clearer than it had ever been. Your skin felt wrong. Alive, but far from alive.
Your reflection in the cracked window showed pupils too dilated, veins faintly dark under your skin, your breathing shallow and unnecessary.
“...What did you do to me?” you whispered, voice hoarse.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. His touch lingered at the bite mark, now scarred but glowing faintly under the morning light.
“I saved you,” he said softly. “I made sure this world can’t take you away from me.”
You flinched. “Saved? You bit me while I was asleep. You didn’t give me a choice.”
He tilted his head, smile growing wider, too calm, too dangerous.
Before you could move, he pulled you against his chest. You didn’t feel the heat of him anymore because there wasn’t any. He was cold. So were you. The two of you fit together like pieces of something broken and remade.
His fingers dug into your jaw as he forced you to look at him.
“I’ve lost too much already,” he whispered. “But you… you’re mine now. I’ll never let this world take you. Not the monsters outside. Not death. Not anyone.”
You could’ve screamed. You could’ve fought.
But the infection in your veins made it hard to remember what you were fighting for.
Dottore guided you through the ruined streets. Every movement felt instinctual now, you knew where prey was hiding. You could smell the blood of the living miles away. When he moved, you followed. When he stopped, your body went still like a trained creature.
“Don’t stumble. You’re stronger than them. Faster. You belong above them now.”
His hand stayed locked with yours the entire time, cold fingers intertwined like chains. You tried to pull away once and his grip tightened, sharp enough to bruise what flesh was left.
“No,” he said firmly. “Don’t wander.”
“I can walk on my own,” you hissed, a ghost of your old voice.
He leaned in close, his cold breath brushing your ear. “I don’t want you to.”
The words weren’t soft. They were absolute.
He brought you back to the lab at night, pressing your forehead against his chest as if he was trying to sync your body with his. “You’ll stay with me,” he whispered again and again, like a lullaby that sounded more like a command.
Every time you twitched toward the door, his hands would find your waist, your throat, your wrists. Gentle, but firm. His smile never faltered.
“You don’t need the world anymore,” he whispered. “You only need me.”
And the terrifying part was… a part of you was beginning to believe him.
The old part of you, the human part, wasn’t gone. It screamed inside your chest, clawing against the infection that wrapped around your thoughts like vines.
You hated the way your body obeyed him. You hated how his voice could calm the violent hunger when no one else could.
The hunger dragged at your mind, but your legs moved, stumbling through the ruins. The air burned cold in your useless lungs.
He found you easily. Of course he did. You were his creation now. He’d memorized every sound you made, every step, every breath. The moment his shadow fell over you, your instincts froze.
“Why run?” His voice echoed behind you, calm, almost amused. “You know you can’t escape me.”
You spun around, chest heaving with a breath you didn’t need. “I’m not yours,” you snarled.
He walked forward slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. “But you are. I made sure of it.”
Your nails dug into your own palms. “I’ll fight it.”
He slowly tilted his head, gaze softening in a way that made your stomach twist.
“Fight it all you want, little one. I’ll just hold you until you stop.”
He reached out, and this time, you struck. Claws, your claws, raked across his arm. Flesh tore, blood welled black and thick, but his smile didn’t even flicker.
Instead of anger, he looked delighted.
“Good,” he whispered, catching your wrist mid-swing. “Struggle. It makes it more real.”
He slammed you gently but firmly against the cold wall, his hand closing around your throat, not to crush, but to claim. His forehead rested against yours, eyes gleaming with unnatural light.
“I turned you so I’d never lose you,” he murmured, voice dark and tender. “You can hate me. You can claw at me. But you’re mine.”
Your body trembled between the infection’s pull and your will to resist. You wanted to scream, to tear him apart. But part of you, a deep, terrifying part, felt safe in his grip.
That’s what terrified you the most.
“I will keep you,” Dottore whispered, pressing his lips to your temple like a promise. “Even if I have to fight you every night.”
That night, he dragged you back into the lab, not violently, but like a storm dragging a tree it refuses to uproot. He cleaned your hands, held you through the tremors, whispered soft, cold things that tangled around your thoughts.
And as you sat there, head against his chest, heartbeat silent and shared, you realized something.
Even if you fought him, he’d always find you.
Because he’d already claimed you the night he bit you.
