067. [dottore x male reader.]

15. the jester & regrator.

a/n : i lowkey forgot how i was going to end this originally, but i came up with my favorite way and the ending is coming soon. so brace yourselves. 

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it's been about a week since you and dottore had slept with each other. you enjoy being around him, helping with his experiments and just over all, you enjoy his company. he allows you sit on his lap in the office and pampers you with small kisses, though he does still document things about you and injects things into your body. that could all just be a formality, of course.

you were his patient, as he'd say. he still has to "write about your condition" and "it's just what my superiors want, my dear."  

he does allow you to see and help his other patients, though. collei is still one of them, but he stopped letting you see her. and only her, though. he allows you to go and help zandice with the others - which you had found out there were plenty of others in here alongside you. 

helping zandice isn't a necessarily difficult task, but it's annoying at times. he'd order you around like a small lap dog, telling you to do this, that and the third. he'd have you make small incisions, perform minor surgeries;

which was always off, because you never knew what exactly you had to do, and yet, he let you cut out ... a man's liver. it was a weird day. 

however, today's different. dottore had informed you, or well, gave you a small warning, that one of his superiors are coming in. he never said why, as it's "not important, until he arrives." so he just sort of left you hanging. 

you sat on the small couch in dottore's office as he flipped through various reports of his patients. he had the couch brought in two days ago, since he got tired of fucking you against a wall, and you'd often fall asleep in his office as he worked. he makes small noises as he does and it's relaxing. the noises being small hums to the rhythm of some songs that you weren't aware of. probably some from his childhood, or something.

   "my sweet boy?" dottore calls out to you. his eyes never once left the reports as he's quickly signing off on them, "the jester's coming soon, so be presentable."

  "be presentable?" you repeat. you sit yourself up straight on the couch, as that caught your interest. you're presentable, aren't you? he had given you new clothes, instead of that old large shirt you had been wearing for months straight - he even let you take a shower upstairs. 

you didn't know that this place had showers, but it did. on the second floor, where dottore's office is, there's a small bathroom similar to a locker room in a school. it was fairly clean when you went in it, and the feeling of the water against your body was relaxing. 

there's a lot of rooms upstairs, barely any "chambers". there was a small art room, with an easel and paintings; though, the room was full of cobwebs as it hasn't been used in years, most likely. there was a kitchen, where dottore had his other clones make you meals, an actual like ... doctor's room. dottore told you he wasn't a true doctor and that it's just a room to store basic medical essentials, but you still liked to call him "doctor dottore" from time to time. 

    "yes, here, brush that fucking rats nest," he drew a long sigh as he tossed you a small brush from inside of the desk drawer. it's missing some of its bristles, but hey, it's a brush. you haven't been, entirely, able to keep up with your hygiene in a long time. your teeth went unbrushed for months. your hair has large matts and knots in it. the undersides of your nails were the only things that were always clean - it relaxed you to clean them. 

you bring the brush up your the tips of your hair, after attempting to separate it by side. there's a large knot in the back that prevented you from doing so, entirely, but whatever. pain struck your head at each movement of the brush as it made loud sounds against the knots, but you kept going. you've wanted to brush your hair, look more presentable and more appealing, anyways. 

  "and try not to act like a corpse, my darling, he's very judgmental, so answer when he speaks," dottore warns as he sits up and slowly stands from his chair. he makes his way over towards you, observing you through his mask, "you don't have the time to ... manage all of this, just hide the back."

  "or, you could help me brush it?" you suggest to him as you continued working away at the knots, moving your focus onto the right side of your grown out hair. 

  "i have more important things to do, y/n," he sighs before making his way over towards the large door in front of him. he held his hands behind him as he threw on that long coat of his over his shoulders. 

after a few minutes, the door slowly pushed open and revealed a tall, much older man. he easily towers over dottore. a mask covers the left side of his face as the right side stays much out in the open, his deep blue eyes glare down at dottore before shifting instantly at yours. having his eyes on you only caused small bumps to raise up from your skin.

his foot steps echoed as dottore moved out of his way, after welcoming him, of course. the pair sat at his desk while the "jester" held his hands tightly in his lab.

  "dottore," the jester started with his loud yet deep voice, "the regrator will be here shortly, shall we begin?" 

  "of course, but why is he going to come? this is about my work, nothing to do with my funds," dottore states plainly while you sit on the couch, awkwardly. 

you had no idea as to what you should be doing. the man before dottore, easily, is the most intimidating person you've seen. and you've been experimented on by dottore. his eyes are narrow and judging, and his hands were full of callouses and scars. veins protruded on his face and his neck's covered in scars. he's seen some shit. 

  "you need for funds for phase two, do you not? use critical thinking skills. he's discussing the budget with you."

just as the jester finished talking, a lean and tall, long blacked haired male walked in. his glasses rested low on his nose as he wore expensive appearing clothing. the ends of glasses curled on to the man's ears and swayed as he sat down next to the jester, "i'm not late, now, am i? terribly sorry."

the man's voice is smooth and sweetly laced like honey, much despite the jester's and dottore's. the jester sounded as if he's smoked for fifty years and dottore's sounded like he needs a glass of tea. 

  "not enough to where it's a hinderance," the jester waves off with his hand. he would occasionally look over you way. his gaze upon you caused you to press your limbs closer towards your torso, to appear smaller, "yes, now that we're all here, let's begin discussing 

phase two."