#g/t doctor who

[unusuallysized-sfw]

The SEQUEL YOUVE BEEN WAITING FOR

DOCTOR WHO X BORROWERS AU

2

The Doctor sans companion lands upon a very strange planet, its oxygen content is liveable but extremely low for the size of the sphere.

They are even more confused when upon exiting the tardis they step on a tree.

the whole planet is 16x smaller than that of say earth. The Flora seems identical to that of most "terra like" planets but on a reduced scale, the doctor concedes that the whole thing seems like a radical exaggeration of how oxygen affects the "scale of life"

none the less they are fascinated.

especially when a huntswoman emerges into the =new= clearing. and immediately points a comically tiny spear at them.

"Hark! Giant! Be you a Demon a god amonster or Extra Terrestial, Friend or Foe, you trespass upon my forest."

The Doctor is unsure how to proceed here given any attempt to get on the level may be taken as a sign of...pity or diminishment. so they eventually just flop to the ground comically rather than bending

"Right sorry bout that, The Doctor, Probabbly Friend, Extra Terrestial, lovely planet...lovely forest too...sorry about the mess...i'll help you replant if-"

"Stay your Tongue, 'Doctor' why are you going prone, you are far too large to be inconspicuous. and far too vast for most predators to even bother." She echoes.

How would this move forward? i look forward to your ideas in the replies n reblogs!

[borrowedtimeandspace]

So I got this for xmas, because I needed the girlies together in the mightiest way

And it was great, but at the end there is a gallery of different covers and

I'M LOSING MY MIND

WHY MUST THEY DO THIS TO ME?????

[slugbug444]

Thinking about TwoJamie g/t rn.

In particular, the Doctor as the tiny one, and Jamie trying to be as careful with him as possible, to the point where he’s literally holding him like this.

(Because he can’t grab onto the Doctor when either of them are startled, he’ll instead hold the Doctor really close to himself. Zoe is tired of them both.)

[mwagneto]

people keep pointing to stuff from older nuwho especially rtd1 nuwho that contradicts things in rtd2 and going "ummm so which is it?" which is understandable but i think this line from the toymaker is probably going to be relevant to that

like to me this doesn't feel like a throwaway line, combined with all the strange contradictions and the doctor literally saying that his memory about an event keeps changing it very much feels like the toymaker scrambled the doctor's past and/or memories somehow

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Still Subject to Change Chapter 27 (NEW)

——————————————————————————-

Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

——————————————————————————

The last thing Oakley pulled out of the bag was weirdest of all a glowing roundish crystal.

This one actually made sense seeing as he would need light and at least that thing did not emit smoke.

I wondered if it emitted any heat though, I hoped not much.

“Hey where did the other two go? I wasn’t away that long, was i?”

Robin clumsily climbed over my arm again which wasn’t exactly necessary since he could have walked like four steps around it.

“Rikaad went back to sort paper stuff and Arthur is somewhere around the tower just looking how run down the thing is.

The winged man nodded.

“I see, and the little ginger decided to use you as a mattress I guess?”

Robin just stuck his tongue out at him.

“Eh maybe, don’t really care about that, also how the hell did you fit that much stuff in such a small bag?”

While I spoke Robin went over the said bag and peered in before managing to stick his entire arm in up to the shoulder.

“Why is it like this? There so much room? But the bag is small? Oakley?”

Him sticking his entire arm in had startled me but now he said that the inside was bigger than the bag was? How was that possible?

“Well you see, a little bit of magic woven into the fabric allows for quite a lot of storage!

Sadly it’s the only one i have as it’s quite expensive to make”

A magic bag, of course that’s what it was, Did he own anything normal?

He took the bag from Robin and stuck his tail in to rummage for something else.

Using his two pronged tail for that did make sense seeing as how wings would have trouble fitting.

It was interesting to see how he had adapted to the fact that he couldn’t do everything with his hands like most people and had instead found a way around it.

He pulled out something that looked like an oversized glass jar that was halfway filled with something teal colored and seemed to have the same viscosity as honey.

What the fuck did he need that for? Was that just medicine?

I never heard of bright teal medicine.

Robin also pointed at the jar confusedly.

“What’s that? I do like the color, what is it for?”

Oakley raised the container in the air so we could see it better.

“Basically a disinfectant, among other things, and i agree teal is a nice color”

He put the jar next to his bag and then took the rope to tie it around himself.

That confused me a bit, he probably knew i could get people out without help so why was he tying himself to a safety rope?

He must have noticed my confused stare as he told me what it was for.

“The teal stuff is basically a stronger version of what i gave Arthur, mixed with some other things as well, it WILL make you numb enough to not have control over the affected muscles for about four hours so i do need the rope”

Oh, yeah that made sense, but that meant someone had to stand at the other end of the rope to get him out, well both Arthur and Robin were here, the first of which was just coming back from exploring the tower and full of dust.

“Oh hey Oakley!”

He waved to the winged man who stared back.

“Perfect timing! I will need your help! You just need to hold the other end of the rope here!”

He tossed said end to Arthur who scrambled to catch it out of reflex.

He looked thoroughly confused.

“Wh- wait what do you need the rope for? The hell are you going to do?”

Oakley wasn’t really paying attention to him though and instead picked up the stuff he needed which included the glowing crystal, the weird box and the jar with the teal stuff.

While Oakley did that Robin was messing with the bag by sticking his arm in again, likely to test how deep it was.

After that he even stuck his head in, probably to see if he could make out anything visible.

He pulled it out quickly though and I wondered what else was in there that he had that reaction.

Maybe he saw something spider shaped and noped out.

Then Oakley had everything ready.

He was holding the glowing crystal with his tail and the rest was secured in either his pockets or his hands, The cloak he usually wore was abandoned off to the side.

So that meant the only thing to do now was-

Eugh, my least favorite part of this, Oakley had wings, and a tail, What if I damaged them?

What if one of those appendages got snagged on my teeth?

Oakley didn’t seem to have any concerns though, he was just standing in front of me expectantly.

My brain blanked on what to do for a second before i remembered, right, Oakley was gonna fix the stitches and to do that he had to get to them.

But I wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed, he was only mostly human shaped and I didn’t know what to do with the wings.

Should I tell him to tuck them close?

Or to have them spread out at his side so he’d be slimmer?

At this point he seemed to know what to do better than I did as he tucked his wings very close to his body and wrapped his tail around one of his legs.

“Well, open up big guy, no use wasting time now!”

My brain was still blanking on a lot of things but I simply did as told.

Lowering my head to the ground I opened my mouth wide enough for him to fit, and to my surprise he climbed right in, no fear or hesitation whatsoever.

Also having someone willingly climb into my mouth like this was extremely weird and i was not sure if i liked it.

And strangely enough he tasted of sawdust which did not make it better, At all.

Overall it wasn’t awful but i couldn’t say that i liked it either, frankly i just wanted this all to be over with.

Oh, wait, technically I had to swallow now but my mind was still a bit slow.

That changed when Oakley punched the dangly bit over my throat, the Uvula was it called? Causing me to swallow against my will.

Apparently he’d gotten impatient with me and decided to just go ahead.

At least he didn’t have feathers.

Yeah, now I was sure I didn’t like this, at least not when it was Oakley.

I just about stopped myself from coughing and instead swallowed again, feeling the safety rope that Arthur was holding slither over the groove of my tongue.

That was an uncomfortable feeling as it was like there was something stuck in my throat when it wasn’t.

At this point I just wanted it to be over with as fast as possible so I swallowed again and again till the odd shaped lump was all the way down to my pouch.

Oakley ‘dropped’ in with a weird squelching sensation and then I could feel him right himself, wings relaxing a bit and tail unfurling.

I kept as still as possible and was only breathing shallowly so I wouldn’t disturb him.

I still didn’t know what exactly he was going to do or what he needed the box for when he had the teal stuff but i was not about to fuck things even more up by moving.

So I sat still except for one of my paws which opened and closed repeatedly and dug grooves in the ground while Oakley seemed to get ready to do whatever it was he planned to do.

Arthur was just silent, holding his end of the rope and staring at the ground while Robin had started making flower crowns again with the daisies that grew around the tower.

Then there was an awful sensation, like Oakley had just ripped one of the stitches out by force.

“YOWCH! Oakley! What the hell was that?!”

And my pained shout Arthur almost dropped the rope and Robin did drop the flowers he was working on.

Then Oakley answered with a mildly muffled voice.

“Just as I thought! The flesh around the stitches started to grow over them! the sooner i remove them the better”

Grown over the stitches?! Grown OVER the stitches?! What the fuck!

I didn’t think that could happen, or at least not so fast.

Ughh why me? I only tried to help and now I was stuck with a possible infection risk and the stitches literally melding into the lining of my pouch.

There was another painful twinge that signaled Oakley had just ripped another stitch out and I dug the claws of my free hand into the ground.

A smaller hand suddenly grabbed my paw and I looked over to see Robin holding onto my fur.

I relaxed the tiniest bit until Oakley ripped another one out and I growled in a low tone.

The sound surprised even me as i didn’t know i could emit such a noise, And it had been completely involuntary too.

Worried that the sound had scared the smaller men, I looked at them.

Arthur seemed to just be surprised and Robin moved to hug my hand.

Well, it was possible that they had mistaken it for a sound of pain.

It kinda was if I was honest, and as long as they weren’t scared I could deal with it.

Oakley yanked another stitch out and since Robin was hugging my hand I couldn’t even dig grooves into the ground anymore to distract myself.

And I didn’t dare move the other arm out from underneath me.

There was the sound of a quiet and dull impact behind me as well as signals sent to my brain that indicated that my tail had hit a tree.

Since I couldn’t use any other limbs to fidget it seemed my tail had just started to swivel from left to right like that of an agitated cat.

Sure, whatever, I could deal with that, and there was at least one limb I dared to move now.

Robbin was still hugging my paw in an attempt to be comforting.

It kind of was even, his hands were warmer than the ground so that was something better to focus on than Oakley doctoring around.

I managed to just about contain a flinch when Oakley ripped yet another thread out.

How many were even in there? He had to be done soon right?

Another was ripped out and the hair on my back stood up.

Robin had at this point started to absentmindedly pet the upper side of my paw, it was strangely soothing, and way better than whatever the fuck Oakley was doing.

He had to be done soon right? I wanted him out of there, also-

“Oakley didn’t you say that the teal stuff numbs?

What the fuck are you doing?”

He answered almost immediately while ripping out yet another stitch.

“Well yeah, the ‘teal stuff’ numbs but it also accelerates the healing process by a lot, so if i put it on first the stitches would get stuck more and you don’t want that”

Oh so that was why, fuck me then, just sitting here with a weird Fae fucker abusing my insides even more.

I let my head sink onto the ground with another pained sound as he ripped yet another string out.

“How many of those are even there? Please tell me you’re done”

There was a brief weird numbing sensation that spread from where ever the fuck he applied the teal stuff.

“Almost, this one is done now to the other stab wound!”

The other one? Ohh nooo come on, How many stitches had Rikaad put there in the first place?

At least one was done now, and numb as fuck which i was actually glad for.

“Oakley? How many stitches are there anyway?

Please tell me it’s under ten”

“Well the first one had six, this one has four, So brace yourself, I’m going to remove them now!”

As soon as he said it he ripped out a stitch in the other place that got stabbed.

This time, now that I had a warning, and being used to it from the other stitches he pulled it was a bit less awful.

Still horrible and painful though.

While I tried my best not to move Robin had slunk away from my hand and was now next to me.

He ended up hugging my shoulder a good bit away from my throat or anything connected to it.

“Are you okay? What’s Oakley doing?”

”I’ll be fine, as soon as Oakley is done ripping the stitches oOOUT, Dammit Oakley, give a warning!”

While i Answered Robin Oakley had ripped another stitch out, catching me by surprise.

I really wanted this to be over with but at least there were only two more to go through.

I huffed in displeasure and glanced at Arthur who had sat down on the ground and was fiddling with his end of the rope.

I wasn’t the only one that wanted this to be over with apparently, He looked bored and unsure of what to do.

Well he couldn’t exactly help Oakley or me with this stupid situation.

The best he could do was keep holding the rope and then do whatever Oakley said.

Which was hopefully soon, I wanted him out of there and the rope hanging down my throat did not make it any better.

On top of that the stupid rope tasted like dust and I really wanted to spit it out.

Not to mention that it dug into the groove of my tongue uncomfortably.

Oakley ripped out yet another stitch, making me lash my tail against the trees behind me.

One more to go and then I was done, at least I hoped so.

By now the numbing effect applied to the first wound had helped a lot even if it did feel weird.

Or not feel? Whatever the case I couldn’t feel anything there right now, no pain but no touches from Oakley either which was kinda eerie.

He said it numbed for about four hours right?

Well I could deal with that as long as it was healed afterwards at least.

Finally Oakley ripped out the last stitch and then applied more of the teal stuff, now making the entirety of my pouch numb.

It was clear why he tied the rope to himself for this.

I couldn’t feel anything in my pouch anymore and I wasn’t even sure if my muscles would obey me now.

Yeah, the rope was a good call on his part.

As uncomfortable as it was for me it did serve a purpose.

Said purpose being that Arthur could pull him out with it.

“Heya! I’m done, so tell your blonde friend to tug at the rope and get me out!”

Finally! The entire ordeal had been awful and I was glad it was bound to be over in a minute or so.

“Hey Arthur?-

He looked up at me.

“- Oakley wants you to pull the rope and get him out, just please be careful that thing is literally IN my throat and having rope burn there is not something i want”

He gave a thumbs up and gripped the rope.

“Sure, brace yourself i’m trying to go slow, if you want me to go faster tap the ground or whatever”

I nodded and then lay down again to make my throat as straight as possible and minimize the choking risk.

Robin ran up to be behind Arthur and grabbed the piece of rope that was splayed on the ground behind the blonde man.

Then Arthur counted to three and started pulling.

It wasn’t fast but it wasn’t agonizingly slow either, It was a steady rhythm of pulling the rope and then gripping the bit in front of it to tug more out.

At first it was just more numbness but the more they tugged Oakley out the more I could feel that there was indeed something in my esophagus.

At this point instead of gripping more rope as he went he was just walking backwards, likely to avoid the parts of rope that had been drooled on.

I wasn’t really to blame for that one though, having something dry in your mouth just gave that response, not my fault at all.

Oakley was at this point halfway up and blocking my windpipe.

Good thing I had remembered to take a breath beforehand, and that I could hold said breath for about five minutes.

Feeling the wet form of Oakley slide into my mouth I wasted no time in leaning forward and letting him drop to the ground.

I immediately began coughing as the rope had irritated my throat the entire time and I was really glad that it was finally over.

Even if it felt weird to - well not feel i guess?

True to Oakleys word the entirety of my pouch was numb and would stay as such for about four hours.

Well, still better than before, and Oakley had brought all of his stuff back out so I didn't have to worry about that either, I flopped to the ground where I was and ended up kind of on my side but not really on my side.

Robin immediately took advantage of that to bury himself in the exposed fluff with an adorable squeak.

Glancing over to what Oakley was doing I saw Arthur handing back the slightly damp rope and Oakley tossing said rope into one of the broken windows of the tower.

Well that was one way to get it dry, probably.

whatever, not my problem.

Now I barely had any problems anymore, sure there was still the Fae hating thing, but Rikaad was working on fixing that.

For the first time in forever there was nothing wrong and I could just relax.

That was weird as fuck.

I decided to enjoy that blessing for now.

Just then Oakley came over, ughh, was there something else i had to do now?

“Say how are you? It is numbing as intended right? I just want to make sure i used enough and that there’s nothing else wrong now”

So he was checking up on his ‘patient’, well That was nice of him.

“It’s numb as hell, I don’t feel anything there so I’m pretty sure you used enough of that stuff, though it’s eerie to not be able to feel a part of my body.”

He just nodded in acknowledgment.

“Well if you need anything else i will sweep all the dust out of my new house! You might want to move though unless you fancy a dust shower”

A dustshower was not something I wanted, and I could somehow imagine that Oakley would use his wings to blow the dust out of his house like some oversized bird.

He was an oversized bird, at least in my opinion.

I ought to get a nice and shiny rock to test just how birdlike at some point.

I stood up which felt a bit weird due to the numbness in my core but since i didn’t fall over i didn’t care.

Oakley was now dusting his new place, So where else on the castle grounds could we go?

Aside from the shed and the tower I didn’t know any places, if there even was more aside from plants.

Eh, I could just chill between some of the plants then, as long as I didn’t destroy them I doubted that anyone would care.

Maybe Barsen, but he was who knew where right now.

A tiny hand grabbed at the arm that had the bracelet and I looked down to see a mess of red hair.

Robin was tugging me in a random direction, Well exploring was also something to do.

So I started to slowly walk in the direction he wanted so as to not trample over him.

Maybe we’ll find something cool?

Arthur joined us even if he didn't hold onto my arm like Robin did.

“Well, where to? Just randomly walking or?”

He shook his head.

And while passing the tower I looked into one of the windows and saw a familiar compass laying on top of a broken branch.

Rikaad must have returned the one Oakley gave us while he was here.

“I wanna go along the cliffside!

Like why don’t they have a wall there? Maybe we’ll find out why!”

“The cliffside? You sure? That seems dangerous, and i’m not keen on falling off of THAT”

Arthur interjected, and to be fair he was right.

It might very well be that there used to be a wall but it just fell down into the ocean.

I wouldn’t get too close to the edge in case the ground there was brittle.

Falling to my death after all this would be really fucking dumb.

“I mean we can look but i’m not sure how stable the ground there is, What if it breaks off? As Arthur said i’m also not keen on dying”

“We don’t have to get close! I just wanna look! Like the window in the castle!”

For a second I could have sworn that Arthur’s face went a bit green.

Well, not my problem if he had vertigo, poor Arthur though.

“Well I think that’s fine? But i’m not going to get as close as you are, Im bigger so the floor might just break off”

“Yeah, Donovan’s right, don’t get too close!”

Robin stuck his tongue out at Arthur and then kept dragging me as best as he could forward.

“It’ll be fine! I’m not gonna fall, I promise!

I’m not gonna stand directly on the edge! I'm not that dumb!”

I hoped he was right, but it was just for the sake of curiosity so what’s the worst that could happen if we were being careful.

As long as we kept a safe distance to avoid falling it should be fine.

Somehow I had the feeling that Arthur wouldn’t get anywhere close at all.

Oh well, then i had to make sure nobody got too close to the drop then.

Ducking under a low hanging branch we breached into free space.

Yep, there was the aforementioned drop down to the ocean.

How tall was it anyway? Then I saw something that made my heart, the working one anyway, stop for a second.

Barsen was plucking out weeds and the like while only holding onto a branch from a walnut tree.

He was basically hovering over certain death and did not even blink.

Did that guy know what Fear was??? By the looks of it not.

Still, screaming at him to get away from there might startle him into letting go.

So talking normally would have to do.

“Barsen? What are you doing?”

The other two seemed to only now notice there was someone else and gave surprised and worried noises.

“Oh what the hell man, get away from there! You’re gonna fall!”

Robin hid behind my arm again as if that would help the situation.

Barsen just looked up and waved with a handful of weeds while hanging on to that one branch.

“Hello! Don’t worry, I’ve done this a thousand times before, I’m not going to fall! I'm almost done anyway”

He stuffed the plants into a pocket of his work pants and climbed up the walnut tree’s roots back to safe ground.

Brushing Dust off he walked over to us.

“Nice to see you are all well! What do you think of the garden?”

I just stared at him for a few seconds as he acted like he hadn’t just hung over a multiple hundred feet high drop to death.

Then his question registered in my brain.

“Oh, I think it’s really pretty!

It doesn’t seem to cluttered with random flowers either i like that”

That was true, the noble gardens I had seen before all seemed to be stupid tryhard in comparison to this one, This was more subtle and not filled with eye bleeding bright flowers next to even more oversaturated stuff.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

[blametheeditor]

Stitches 'N Snitches

Run Down: What was James supposed to do? Not help despite being a highly trained medical professional?

Content Warning: Blood and gore. Mentions of robberies. Mentions of violence and dangerous altercations. Mentions of injuries via knife and gun. Attending to wounds, including stitching. Not considering injuries as serious. Trigger warning

One way to tame a Mike

_____________________

Like many aspects of life, there’s times when being a size shifter isn’t worth the headache. But then there’s an instance when the trouble that comes with it gets long forgotten. 

James just wished the circumstance didn’t include a medical emergency. 

Truthfully, it’s a miracle he noticed the limping man, considering he’s human while James is the size of a giant. But maybe it’s a good thing. If they were the same size, his footsteps wouldn’t have caused earthquakes strong enough to make the significantly smaller stumble with a curse.

Because it’s that motion in the corner of James’ eye that makes him look down. And it’s the sight of a concerning amount of blood staining the white button up shirt that has him immediately stopping. 

“Are you alright?” he murmurs, not wanting to get any closer in case the human assumes they’re going to be grabbed. Especially at such an early hour in the morning with the sun only just beginning to rise and no one else walking along the sidewalk, any stranger would be alarming to encounter, not to mention one who can pocket them effortlessly. 

There’s no flinch from how his voice makes the air rumble, only a wave of the hand as if to dismiss him. “I’m fine.” 

James stares down at the stranger. Slowly kneels down in order to get a better look at what might be a stain he mistakenly took to be blood. It’s happened before when interacting with humans while giant, and it’ll guarantee happen again since he’s technically over a hundred feet away. 

He wasn’t mistaken this time, however. “Did you know you are bleeding, sir?” 

“Yep,” is shot back without missing a beat. “I’m fine.” 

Now James is curious, as well as concerned. He’s dealt with difficult patients more times than he can count, and the funny part is a majority of the time it’s when he’s working in the pediatric wing rather than the ER. But there’s been very few times in which that much blood doesn’t have the injured person sound like they’re in pain. 

“I don’t mean to intrude, but by sheer happenstance, I am currently on my way to the hospital. Would you like me to give you a lift there?” 

“No thanks. Hate hospitals.” 

Usually that works fairly well. It’s only ever failed once, and that was due to someone wanting to make him personally liable if anything went wrong while he treated them, but he has a feeling that isn’t the case here. 

“I also happen to be a doctor who can help as long as I have access to a first aid kit.” 

The man finally stops to turn and look up at him, head tilted back in order to see his face past the brim of the hat proclaiming the one who wears it as ‘security’. And now James has a few theories as to how and why there’s not only an injury, but a distinct lack of concern. 

"Okay. If you can see it.” 

James manages to piece together the meaning of the words spoken, that permission is being given to provide treatment. Finds himself giving a small smile at the realization that despite the uninterested tone, he’s currently being challenged. Because of course he can’t see any injury while looking like a lost building. No matter how serious the injury might be, it can’t be any bigger than a line along his palm. 

It’s a good thing he can shrink down to the size of a human willingly with just a single thought. And he’s not currently clocked in at the hospital, or else he’d be under contractual agreement that forbids him doing such a thing while working a shift. 

Of course, there’s a genuine concern on how the man will react to him being a size shifter. Despite the fact the world is made for two vastly different sizes to coexist, where one can fit in the palm of the hand of the other, realizing there is someone who can fluctuate between them always leaves people wary, if not outright terrified. 

At the very basis, James can understand such reactions. Knowing shifters exist, and meeting one in person are two vastly different things. Not to mention, if he was to meet a stranger who suddenly became pocketable or made it so he was pocketable could be extremely disorienting and frightening if he didn’t know their intentions. It’s when those who know him, are away of his abilities, and refuse to let him use them despite how beneficial it would be that he becomes frustrated. 

He is a stranger in this moment, however, meaning a negative reaction is justified. He might’ve promised to help, but at the same time essentially forced it upon someone who made it clear they wanted to be left alone. 

And yet there’s no hint of fear, or even suspicion aimed at James slowly standing up after shrinking down so they stand at the same level. Instead, the man slumps in resignation. “Shit.” 

James offers a smile, careful not to seem too smug. There’s no comment, the man only turning away from the direction he was originally walking. Limps toward the doors of ‘Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza’. After unlocking it, the door is held open for the doctor to enter before beckoning him deeper into the unfamiliar building. 

They walk past multiple long tables set up for birthday parties and down a long hallway, stopping briefly at a storage closet in order to grab an alarmingly small fist aid kit that’s shoved at James’ chest for him to take. 

“I’m Stiller, by the way,” he introduces much too late into this endeavor, realizing everything he’s done so far might not be the most reassuring. 

“Mike,” the man grunts without further acknowledgement. 

They finally stop at a small room. One that seems like an office going based off the desk and rolling chair, but he’s never known offices to have two entrances with doors that block them off via a button. 

Mike seems unbothered, however. Sits in the chair before lifting his shirt to reveal a fairly deep gash in his lower abdomen. 

James opens the kit, pleasantly surprised to find it’s well stocked. As he puts on a pair of disposable gloves, he nods toward the wound that’s, thankfully, seemed to have mostly stopped bleeding. “Is that from a knife?” 

“Yes.” 

He might have to get creative. “May I ask how it happened?” 

Mike shrugs. Doesn’t so much as flinch as James presses gauze against the wound. “Robbery.” 

He’s going to have to get very creative. “How are feeling right now?” 

The man shrugs again. “Fine.” 

“No pain?” James probes as he reaches for a sanitary wipe to clean the excess blood around the gash. 

“Not really.” 

Well this is certainly an interesting case. Not only the fact what seems to be a stab wound if the admission there had been a robbery is anything to go off isn’t causing much pain, but how Mike isn’t talkative. Doesn’t want to regale his story of either saving the day, or letting the criminal get away. 

It's not James’ business to question a security guard about their job. Just treat any injuries that may be acquired from it. “Do you by chance have congenital analgesia?” 

Blue eyes stare down at him. “What?” 

“It’s a condition in which you can’t feel any pain,” James explains. And by the sound of it, if the word wasn’t recognized, Mike most likely doesn’t have it. 

The loud laugh confirms his suspicions. “No. I feel it. Just used to it.” 

Curiosity gets the best of James. He makes sure to keep pressure on the wound, but his eyes wonder away from the task at hand. To scars both small and large that surround the gash guaranteed to add another to the collection. Over Mike’s face as the man stares at the empty hallway, seeming to almost be bored. Realizes his complexion is distinctly ashen, completely devoid of a healthy glow. And at the very top of the forehead, barely peeking out from under the hat, are the distinct discolored bumps of deep scars. 

James checks the gauze. "Good news, the bleeding stopped. Where can I find a clean towel, water, soap, and a bucket?” 

Mike points to the door opposite of the one they came through. “Kitchen, double doors.” 

"Keep pressure on it and don’t move.” 

James accepts the lazy salute as confirmation his instructions will be heeded. He then follows the ones he was given. Pauses when he spots the needed items sitting on the counter beside the sink. As if they were waiting for this exact reason. 

As much as the doctor wants to ask, to have the speculations he currently has confirmed, he respects Mike’s privacy. All too familiar himself with how people like to poke their noses in things that don’t concern them. 

Therefore he’s silent when he returns to the office with supplies in hand. Doesn’t ask anymore questions as he carefully cleans the wound. Gives the warning he’s going to begin suturing to which Mike gives him a nod of assent. James only looks up from time to time as he works to check how the guard is faring, but there’s never a sign of pain and he’s never told to stop. 

“Thanks.” 

James meets Mike’s gaze at the soft yet sincere word of appreciation. Offers a smile as he focuses back on placing a bandage over the now fully stitched wound. “I take it I did a decent job?” 

That earns him a smirk. “Hell yeah.” 

With the wound now cared for and Mike no longer facing the threat of dying from blood loss, the guard starts to clean everything up. The doctor in him wants to chastise and give instructions on how to properly care for the wound, but James holds himself back. Carefully takes off his gloves and puts the first aid kit back together. Follows Mike to the kitchen to safely dispose everything that needs to be. 

“Are you late?” Mike asks. As if James’ prior commitment was more important than ensuring he didn’t bleed out. 

But it’s a good thing the doctor was scheduled as a giant this week. Take much less time getting to the hospital without being reprehended he shouldn’t be switching sizes right before his shift. “I’ll arrive with plenty of time.” 

The guard nods as he leads James out of the restaurant. Hums in thought after he locks the doors. “One time deal. But I owe you.” 

James watches Mike for a moment, the man not giving any indication he had been injured save for the blood still staining his shirt, looking for all intents and purposes completely indifferent to the events leading up to now. 

Morally, he’s under obligation to tell the person in charge of the establishment Mike works for there had been a life threatening altercation. Professionally, it’d be best not to directly tie himself with these events in case him and his practice undergo scrutiny. 

James grabs a business card from his pocket and offers it to Mike. To his surprise, despite the raised eyebrow and the previous sentiment of not wanting the doctor’s help again, it’s immediately excepted. “Just in case there’s another ‘one time’ scenario.” 

Mike hums as he looks down at the card, then sends another smirk toward James. “Okay.” 

That’s the best he’s going to get for now. 

Even if James wanted to say more, Mike is already walking away as he waves at the doctor to make his way to work before he truly is late for his shift. So instead of delaying the inevitable, he takes several steps back in order to grow and continue on his way. 

He doesn’t expect a phone call considering Mike’s attitude the enter time. And considering how the first aid kit had everything needed to suture a wound despite it not advertising itself for such occasions, extra though required supplies already waiting in a prime location, as well as the confirmation it wasn’t the first time its happened, there may never come a time the man will think he needs the help of a doctor. 

James will admit he is incredibly curious about Mike himself. He has encountered numerous people throughout his career, and while people who want to avoid getting medical attention is far from rare, he had yet to see someone who blatantly disregards their own life. 

He wants to know more. Ask why. Learn the life story of someone he met completely by chance, one he almost missed. 

James isn’t that kind of person, however. Won’t impose himself onto other people. If that was the only time he ever gets to interact with Mike, then that’s something he’ll just have to live with. And so he does. Works his shift for the day. Glances down whenever he passes by the restaurant but never lingers. Slowly starts to forget about such an interesting start to his morning as the weeks pass and he never so much as sees Mike walking down the sidewalk. 

But then he does see Mike. Bloody, though not limping, just walking awkwardly. Almost exactly like the first time they met, only this time James is human sized. 

As soon as the man realizes who stopped beside him, he groans. “Fuck. Do you just know?” 

“Like a sixth sense?” James asks as he takes in the sight before him. At the blood originating from the shoulder that’s being held tightly and Mike being much more concerned about the doctor rather than his injury. “I have yet to earn it, still a few more years to go.” 

Mike gives a look that says he knows the tone indicates a joke, but doesn’t want to ask to confirm. Instead he turns back to the restaurant, unlocks the door, and stands to the side to hold it open as an invitation to come inside. One James doesn’t hesitate to take. 

Even though he’s semi-familiar with how this goes, he waits to follow the guard, accepting the first aid kit when it’s pushed toward him. “Does this mean you missed me?” 

Mike snorts. “This, or you pin me.” 

That actually catches James off guard. It takes a moment to realize it’s referring to his size shifting, but once it does, a feeling of dread wells up inside him. Because he never once thought the fact that he can grow to the size of a giant at any moment would be thought of as a silent threat of sorts. That if Mike doesn’t comply, he’ll be forced to. 

He doesn’t want the man to suffer or die if it’s serious enough, but James would be a monster rather than a hero by forcing help onto someone who doesn’t want it and has the capacity to make that choice. 

“Mike,” James begins as he stops right outside the office. Meets the guard’s gaze as he’s watched with confusion. “I assure you, even though I have the ability to, I would never force you to get medical attention. If you would like me to leave, I will.” 

Mike raises an eyebrow. “I let you in.” 

Not the response he was expecting. But certainly not a reassuring one. “Was that because you are afraid of what I would do if you didn’t, or because you want my help?” 

“You don’t scare me,” the guard immediately responds with a smirk. “Even giant. Don’t care.” 

Again, not what James was expecting for an answer. This one, however, at least settles his concerns. “Have you fought giants before?” 

“Yep,” is said with such confidence James has no choice but to believe it. “And won.” 

Oh. Well then. 

Mike sits down in the chair as James heads down to the kitchen to collect the bucket and rag. Sends a glance over at his one time patient to see the sleeve for the injured arm has been removed, but a hand is still firmly pressed against the wound. Once the doctor puts on a pair of disposable gloves and prepared to apply gauze to help with the bleeding does he finally get a good look at it. 

James doesn’t know how to feel about being surprised yet also not at the sight of a flesh wound that could only have come from a bullet. 

He quickly applies pressure. Takes a moment to evaluate the wound in his mind. It will certainly needs switches, and luckily it didn’t go straight through the arm, just ripped apart the muscle and left a large gap from its passage. As clean as an injury can be when dealing with gunshots. 

And just like when Mike had been stabbed in the abdomen, the security guard is completely unbothered by the circumstance. 

“Not the first time this has happened?” James asks. 

Mike nods, eyes refocusing as they look down at the doctor. “Nope.” 

“Mind if I ask why you didn’t stay here to stitch it up?” 

“It’d take too long.” 

Which either means there’s someone who normally helps Mike with injuries like these and he goes to them after his shift ends, or he just doesn’t want someone else to find him in the middle of patching himself up. If it’s the latter, that could be for a multitude of reasons. And James doesn’t like any of them. 

“Do you like your job?” 

“Yeah,” the guard smirks, almost pridefully. “I’m good at it.” 

It doesn’t come off disingenuous, like someone who’s forced to have such a dangerous occupation for a business that doesn’t seem to care for its employees. Mike genuinely seems to enjoy what he does. Even with such life threatening circumstances that happen fairly frequently. 

“What does your job as security entail?” 

“Watch the cameras,” Mike begins as James checks the bleeding before moving onto cleaning the wound, watching for any signs of pain. Listening for it as well, but mostly out of curiosity. “Keep the gang out. Punch any robbers. Try not to die.” 

Despite the extremely ominous words, Mike is anything but affected as he describes a typical shift. Which is technically a good sign. Instead of realization hitting him after saying it out loud, it’s simply stated as a fact, one that the man requiring stitches in two separate instances within the span of a month is well aware of. 

Concerning, yet incredibly admirable. And who is James to judge someone’s choice of career. He’s the one caring for an injury with the bare minimum requirements and woefully unprepared if it takes a turn for the worse rather than taking the man to the hospital for proper treatment. 

James carefully moves Mike’s arm once he has the wound clean to properly see the damage the bullet inflicted. Glad to see it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone. Hadn’t hit an artery or else the bleeding wouldn’t have stopped. Though a significant amount of the deltoid muscle has been damaged. 

“How much pain do you currently feel?” 

“Not much.” 

James hesitates at the reminder Mike doesn’t necessarily have a regular scale for pain. “Between a cut on the arm and a broken bone, where would this lie?” 

The guard hums. “The middle.” 

The doctor offers a smile. “We’re going to call the cut on the arm 1, and a broken bone 5, meaning your current pain is 3. With that in mind, I need you to slowly lift your arm up, and if the pain gets worse, stop.” 

Mike obeys his instructions. Stops his arm once it’s parallel to the ground. Gives James a look asking what he needs to do now. 

“Using those numbers, how much pain are you in?” 

Mike blinks. “Above 3, below 4.” 

James blinks back. “About 3.5?” 

“Sure.” 

James doesn't know how to respond to that. Wanting to know why he received such an ambiguous response. But he needs to evaluate the full extent of the damage. “Please continue.” 

Only when Mike’s arm is by his ear does he stop with a “3.5.” 

Not what he had expected. It doesn’t seem to be too concerning, however, with what information he can gather. “Thank you. Put your arm down and I will get it stitched.” 

Mike watches him prepare the needle and thread. Looks back down the hallway as James begins to suture the wound closed, careful as he tries not to pull tighter than necessary considering how wide the gash is. 

“Do you like doing this?” 

James forces himself not to look up or pause from surprise at the sudden question. “I enjoy helping people.” 

“Including me?” 

That has him pausing, looking up to try and judge what Mike means by the question, especially with the casual tone. The guard only looks curious. As if the doctor intrigues him as much as he intrigues the doctor. 

“Including you,” James replies as confusion colors his voice. “Have I acted like it wouldn’t?” 

“No,” Mike begins as his shrugs his good shoulder. “I’m difficult. Not really friendly. Usually makes it hard.” 

James slowly begins to connect the pieces he’s been given. Starts to see how Mike’s uncaring and passive attitude can come off the wrong way. A doctor who’s dealt with multitudes of different personalities and temperaments might be able to brush it aside or look past it knowing there’s a reason behind it. But it can certainly be a shock to a majority of people. 

“I have genuinely enjoyed being able to help you, Mike,” James says. Earnestly. He finds the man both fascinating, as well as a breath of fresh air. A calm patient who does everything he asks and answers all of his questions without screaming at him as he tries to save their life is always appreciated. He understands why it’s such a rare occurrence, it doesn’t mean he can’t hope for more Mike’s. “Even if I only helped you out of moral obligation, I would’ve made you aware if I wasn’t happy about it.” 

The guard smirks. “Even after 20 times?” 

The doctor gives a smirk of his own as he finishes the stitch. “That just means you’d keep me in business.” 

Mike rewards him with a genuine smile. Starts pushing James out of the office as soon as the wound is wrapped with gauze. “Go, you’ll be late.” 

“But-” 

“I’m fine. Call you later.” 

James is admittedly stunned by the promise. So much so he allows himself to be shooed out of the office to obediently walk out of the restaurant after Mike watched him walk down the hallway. Part of him thought it was said just to get him to leave so he’d make it to the hospital in time. And yet he does receive a call later that night. 

“This is Dr. Stiller.” 

“Hello, hello, Dr. Stiller,” an unfamiliar voice greets him, leaving James a little confused considering he only gives his personal number to colleges and patients. “Can I have a moment of your time, or are you busy at the moment?” 

“I'm not busy,” the doctor says as he turns down the heat of the stove, turning away from cooking to grab a notebook and pen in case it’s needed. “What can I do for you?” 

“My name is Scott, and I wanted to personally thank you for helping Mike.” 

Ah, so Mike meant he would be getting a call, not one from the guard himself. Not that James minds, but usually getting a call from a business in the place of their employee means only one of two things. 

 “Considering you’re thanking me, is it safe to assume no one is attempting to hold me liable for medical assistance?” 

“Oh God no,” Scott immediately responds. “I am well aware of the situations Mike encounters. But, as you may have guessed, he’s not very fond of informing anyone of them when they occur.” 

James’ heart suddenly clenches. “Will anything I say moving forward be used against Mike in any way, then?” 

“No,” Scott assures him, and it almost sounds as if the man is smiling. “I can only imagine the types of calls you normally get for these types of things. However, I can assure you my intention isn’t to get you, Mike, or anyone else into trouble. I actually wanted to ask if you by any chance are seeking for employment.”

[pinkapet]

I've discovered that Doctor Who g/t is a thing and now I must read every post tagged with it on this website

[a-tiny-frog-girl]

In a writing mood but writers block has me pinned!! Send g/t story requests, maybe from prompt lists!!

I will write:

Doctor Who (if you ask for gt DW I'll love you forever/hj)

Stranger Things (can't promise it'll be good)

DSMP (also can't promise quality here)

Marvel

Criminal Minds (I've only watched the first few seasons tho sorry)

Supernatural

Sherlock (maybe? might have to rewatch)

Merlin (also maybe)

Mers

Borrowers

Fairies

Animal hybrids (neko, avian, etc)

X reader (mostly platonic tho I'm not great at romancing the reader)

fearplay, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, even some darker stuff (if you aren't sure, ask)

My OCs, of course

Tidbits from stories I've already written

I'll even make up characters on the spot if you ask me to idc

Need a giant to say some comforting words? I'll probably write that!

Your characters/sonas, maybe! (If you give me enough reference and I have a right to refuse)

FOUND FAMILY YEAAAAAAHHHH

prompts for your stories!!

there's probably more but I can't remember rn :')

---

I am uncomfortable with / will not write:

vore (can't write it, sorry)

major character death

characters that suck that don't get comeuppance (/hj)

super graphic stuff (I don't mind writing the aftermath, just the actual incident is rough for me)

nsfw

[whoslaurapalmer]

this is literally. the stupidest addition to the peanut butter cookies thing but oh my god i keep thinking about it, it's making me so fucking angry. it's one of those things where it's like, it's technically so damn pointless and typing this out makes me go 'oh my god why are you this upset about this' but it's on top of so many other tiny pointless things my family insists on being stupid about to the point that I Have Had It Up To Here With It All, so

so my aunt got my grandmother a new tv for christmas. for their living room. this is technically a good move, bc i actually do not remember how long they've had their living room tv and my grandmother is in her 90s and has a hard time seeing and hearing so a new bigger tv!!! is great!!!! now it is hard to find a "dumb" tv nowadays so it is of course a smart tv, which takes a little more set up. so they ask my uncle to 1) stash the tv until christmas 2) come over with the tv and hook it up. this is also a good move, bc objectively my uncle is very good with electronics. management and maintenance of electronics was literally his job for many, many years. he is asked to do many of their electronic shenanigans. (there are not many, bc, again, my grandmother is in her 90s and her cell phone is a flip phone she keeps turned off unless she's making a call, but, yknow.)

so he and his wife go over to my grandmother's house this morning to give her the new tv and set it up. this. should be a simple task. no problem.

my mom gets a phone call this morning from my aunt who says, "okay! it's me!!! along with mom!!!! and [my uncle] and [his wife]!!!!!! so we're having a problem setting up the tv. it's telling me to scan the qr code on the screen and i don't know if my phone is doing it??????"

1) why did she call my mom for this????? my mom does not know how to scan a qr code. my mom has problems with just managing the volume on her phone. she knows what qr codes are and that they are scanned but she's never scanned one a day in her life, why is my aunt asking her????????

2) IS THAT NOT, LITERALLY, WHY MY UNCLE IS THERE??????????? TO HELP YOU???????? TO DO IT??????? TO SCAN THAT QR CODE??????????

my aunt: i don't know if my phone is scanning it, it's not bringing up a link me, bc my mom puts all calls on speaker phone: it's either in the camera or in a drop down setting. you have to swipe down from the top of the phone my aunt: I'M POINTING MY PHONE AT THE TV BUT IT'S NOT BRINGING UP A LINK. I'M WAVING IT AROUND I DON'T KNOW IF IT'S DOING ANYTHING me: IF IT ISN'T SCANNING IT THEN IT -- IT'S NOT SCANNING IT! PULL DOWN THE MENU my uncle, in the background: you have to pull down the menu on the top of your phone my aunt: .....i see a bunch of circles.......oh that's the flashlight button!! me: IT'S NOT IN THAT SECTION. YOU HAVE TO PULL IT DOWN FARTHER. YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A BUTTON THAT SAYS 'SCAN QR CODE' my aunt: oh, i'm back on the home screen!

inexplicably, apparently by only the grace of god i fucking swear, she finds the scan qr code button and scans it. oh but also she said something about having to turn on the option for it in settings so she probably actually went in through the camera (i don't know!!! my phone has, yknow, A BUTTON FOR SCANNING CODES IN THE PULL DOWN MENU.) so you know what. i don't know. i don't care. here's what's pissing me off --

1) THIS IS LITERALLY WHY MY UNCLE WAS THERE

2) HE WAS LITERALLY IN THE BACKGROUND, TELLING HER THE SAME THING I WAS TELLING HER

3) WHY DID YOU CALL MY MOM??????? WHAT ON EARTH POSSESSED YOU TO CALL A TECHNOLOGICALLY ILLITERATE PERSON WHEN YOUR BROTHER IS IN THE ROOM

4) she didn't even THANK ME, my mom didn't even talk on the phone call bc SHE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO DO IT

5) she called back LATER to thank me. and apparently i didn't even really do anything, so!

5a) me: if she calls again we're not picking up. my mom's phone: /rings. the caller id indicates it is my grandmother's cell phone my mom: hello? my aunt: IT'S ME AGAIN!!!

6) NO, I KNOW WHY YOU CALLED. I KNOW YOU MADE IT A POINT TO CALL MY MOM, WHEN YOU 100000% DID NOT HAVE TO AND IT WAS UNNECESSARY TO DO, I KNOW YOU PURPOSELY TO TOLD HER WHO WAS IN THE ROOM, MADE SURE EVERYONE IN THE ROOM KNEW WHO YOU WERE CALLING. YOU WANTED YOUR BROTHER TO SAY SOMETHING TO HER. YOU WANTED TO GIVE HIM A FUCKING EXCUSE TO TALK TO HER, BC HE WON'T TALK TO HER. AND DID HE SAY A GODDAMN THING???? NO! NO HE DID NOT!!!!!! HE SAID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ON THE PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!! HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FOR ANYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! because he's too much of an asshole with some bizarre conservative political pride to even say a word to my mom!!!!!!!!!!!! even with an opening!!!! even with THE STUPIDEST OPENING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!!!! WHAT DID THIS ACCOMPLISH????????? WHAT DID THIS ACHIEVE????????? MORE OF MY UNDYING RAGE, HONESTLY!!!!!!!!!

my mom: oh, absolutely, that's exactly why she called. i wonder what on earth was even going ON in that house that he apparently wasn't helping. that she was doing the whole thing. me: I'M GOING TO KILL HER WITH MY BARE HANDS.

later on, one of my mom's OTHER brothers messaged her about the christmas gift my mom sent him. she got him a doctor who trivia book, and he said, "i'm not into doctor who anymore. i hope you kept the receipt."

[godblooded]

the first thing people always notice about alana is her eyes.

[unusuallysized-sfw]

Im Crossing the streams...its a

BORROWERS X DOCTOR WHO POST

Aight so I dunno how the hell it would happen...but im imagining a borrower sneaking on board the tardis at some point...hell maybe she just lets them in.

And im imagining this dude just having 0 idea that the TARDIS is making their life easier. like im imagining the first room adjacent to the fonsole room for only them is the library/memorbillia collection. a room the resident "human" bean never enters. So this lil rapscalion mf just borrows whatever they need cus the bean who owns this place seems absent minded af... and ofc they find the kitchens and gardens they always do without much effort, so they find it weird that the owner loses track of rooms...they decide hes a nut. but then one day the man is a different man altogether and she assumes its gotta be some kind of child of the first but then one day the man isnt a man. and the tiny person is convinced it has to be the same person because they overheard them talk about regenerizing. Theres always new people coming and going with all sorts of different names but the one person who changes the least and also the most has just one name.

and then one day this comfy lifestyle tiny ass mofo gets brave and wanders into the console room on purpose.

and a brand new person is stood there checking some dials before noting something on a screen and turning directly toward them

and all they say is

"ah the stowaway...well to be honest youve been here long enough maybe a better title is flatmate. Nice to finally meet you"

Yeah of course the strange bean who changes knew. they always knew but respected the boundaries.

[borrowedtimeandspace]

A Reader's Guide to the Multiverse

Hello! Welcome to my sandbox!

Artwork by the lovely @abookishweasel

Though I still write long-form stories collaboratively with @neonthewrite [ Ao3 | DA ] and @nightmares06 [ Ao3 | DA ], my own writing has become more short-form and sporadic. This can make things a bit confusing for the blog, since there isn't an easy way to organize everything. That's what I use Ao3 for (user The_Raconteur_24601). And even there, it can be a bit complicated.

Under the cut is a guide to the stories you'll find featured on this blog; my attempt at organizing them here, and links to their counterparts on Ao3. My asks are always open for any questions this post doesn't answer!

Borrowed Time (and Space)

A Doctor Who/The Borrowers Crossover

[Ao3 Series] | Meet the OCs

Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, The Borrowers belongs to Mary Norton, and Zepheera and other borrower OCs belong to me.

It's the name of the blog, the OG, the one that started it all. The primary premise for this series is: The Doctor (usually Ten) takes on a four and a half inch tall borrower named Zepheera as a companion. It's all a bit wibbly-wobbly, but let me set things straight.

Common tags for the stories (and various posts) are #doctor who gt or #doctor who g/t (which stands for giant/tiny and indicates the involvement of drastic size difference, for the uninitiated) and #BTaS AU

Episode 1 | Minisode | Episode 2 | Episode 3

Originally there were ambitions to try and make the series episodic, like your typical season of Doctor Who but with a borrower tossed in. As such, the first three stories in the series are titled as 'Episodes'. These were among the first long-form stories I'd ever written and posted, so they predate the blog. That, and my writing style and ideas for the canon of the series have changed drastically since then. See this post for more details on that, and this one if you're not worried about spoilers.

The tl;dr of it is: These Episodes are the basis for the AU, but I don't consider them canon enough to impact any other stories in a meaningful way unless I say so.

Zepheera's Origins - In which I started cracking down on my borrower companion's characterization and backstory, compiling a number of prompts set during the time before she met the Doctor.

Zepheera-Visions - These were a fun writing exercise for me during this blog's early years! I would come up with shorts based on Doctor Who gifs that feature some low or high angle shot, imagining Zepheera as the point of perspective in them. If I were at all good at making gifs myself, I might have kept it up. A lot of the AU that ultimately came about branched off from these gimmicks, and still feature them in their stories. Here, they can be viewed under the #Zepheera-Vision tag.

Tales from the Vortex - A compilation of various prompts and shorts that take places in the BTaS-Verse, but don't have any major stories attached to them. These span different Doctors other than Ten, and feature a few other companions in some of them. Sometimes, enough stories accumulate with a similar theme to expand into their own AU, which leads me to...

Borrowed Time and Space AU

The Donna Trilogy - This was originally called the Donna AU, and the original shorts were tagged with #DonnaAU or #Donna AU. Nowadays, I've started to give AU their own titles and tagging them on blog posts. And recent events in Doctor Who have inspired this to span more than one story, making this the first multipart BTaS AU!

Part 1 - A Patient, and Time. [tag] [Ao3]

Part 2 - If I Could Turn Back Time [tag] [Ao3]

Part 3 - TBD...

To The Nines - One of the first AU created in which Zepheera is companion to a Doctor other than Ten! Despite titling the story later on, I must have had the idea for it earlier because a lot of the early shorts are tagged #To the Nines AU. Other tags include #nine AU and #To the Nines.

Time After Time - This AU, while it is NOT a sequel to any existing story, assumes that Zepheera and the Tenth Doctor went on their adventures in the past, and got separated at some point. Then Zepheera manages to find the Twelfth Doctor while he's at St. Luke's and meets Bill Potts. This was one AU that developed slowly over time once I realized I could get a story arc out of it, so a good chunk of the shorts are in the tag #Time After Time.

Borrowed Magic - co-written with neonthewrite

The first and so far only BTaS crossover! The wonderful neon lent me her boi Bowman from her story "Bowman of Wellwood" ( Paperback EBook Amazon ) to join my little TARDIS crew.

Lost in Flight - The inaugural story to introduce a tiny winged guy raised in the woods to all of time and space. It's so far the only complete story we've written, but we're absolutely open to prompts and suggestions for shenanigans for the crew to get into!

Brothers Apart AU - co-written with nightmares06

A SuperLock/Borrowers Crossover

Brothers Apart Ao3 | Meet the OCs

Supernatural belongs to the CW, Sherlock to the BBC, Brothers Apart to nighmares06, and listed OCs to me.

Brothers Apart is a borrower AU of Supernatural written by the inimitable nightmares06. We have collaborated on a few of the various AU based on that story, in which I bring the BBC Sherlock angle.

I don't post nearly as much here about BAU (Brothers Apart AU) since most questions about it are fielded at the dedicated blog @brothersapart; most of what can be found here are miscellaneous prompts and character tidbits. Brothers Apart AU posts made here get filed under #BAU.

More AU exist than listed below, and will be added as they're posted.

Brothers Consulted - Cursed Winchesters end up in London and join forces with the Baker Street crew to solve mysteries, as they do. #Brothers Consulted

Brothers Chosen - Canon Winchesters find a borrower during a hunt and have to figure out what to do with him.

A Tale of Two Sizes - Part of an unannounced BAU, featuring Stan and his family in a universe where Stan is a size-shifter. Finally compiled these into one collection. #size shifter Stan

Misc. Tumblr Prompts - A less clever name for a similar compilation of prompts that don't (or don't yet) have their own story, that have nothing to do with BTaS and/or have to do with my cowritten works.

Miscellaneous

The Brave Little Baker - In which I toss Stan and Nate into a fantasy world of giants and giant slayers! Also based on a series of prompts, revised and compiled into their own story once I had enough of them.

GT July

These prompt challenges have done wonders to keep me writing and inspired!

2022 Masterpost | 2023 Masterpost

[yourgirlsarchived]

[orestesimp]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #15 - FINALE

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: All things end.

Word count: 3,400

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous]

Traveling through Strange’s inter-dimensional portal is a different experience from going through one of Miguel’s. It’s less of a laser light show and more of a psychedelic drug trip.

Shapes and patterns warps in front of you, and the strength of gravity seems to press in against you from all sides as you fall upwards through an endless space.

You lose track of time. You don’t know how long you’ve been in here. It could be hours or seconds, but you can't tell the difference. Then it stops.

There is a gentle light ahead of you, and as you pass through it, the soft warmth of it trickles away. Then you find yourself standing in a familiar vast and empty space once again.

Staring into the far distance, the only thing you see is the blank whiteness ahead of you, just as jarring and endless as last time.

You clutch onto the pink-gemmed amulet hanging from your neck, gifted to you by Strange. A magical artifact that’s meant to help you keep your physical form in this space so you don’t fade away like you did last time.

Everything is static here, stale. There’s no air flow, no sense of temperature. The environment is neither hot nor cold against your skin, but somehow you feel an ever-present chill seeping into your bones.

Taking a deep breath, you start to walk forward.

You're shivering with each step you take. There's no sound under your step. No shadows cast under the soles of your feet.

"Boss lady,” Lyla pipes up, her hologram avatar hovering over your shoulders. “I really don't like this. Let's go back home, Beyoncé is holding a concert in Amsterdam! I got us front row seat tickets."

It's a valiant attempt, Miguel really did a great job coding her, but you’re not going back without him. Ignoring Lyla, you continue on your path.

There’s no sign of Miguel anywhere. It's all infinite whiteness as far as the eye can see, with no signs of an end.

The last two times you were here, you didn’t have a chance to gain an understanding of how big this space is. For all you know it could be as vast and endless as the universe itself. What if you’re stuck wandering in this place for an eternity and still never find Miguel?

You walk on, eyes roaming the space, and a dull ache starts to form behind them from staring at the glaring brightness.

There! Off to your left, you finally spot… something.

Your heart leaps in your chest as you clock a disruption in the blank whiteness. A tiny disruption. Or maybe it’s just far away? The emptiness of this place is hell on your depth perception. You veer in that direction, squinting as you approach, until you’re finally close enough to make out what it is.

In the middle of the vast nothingness, there is a tiny ball of crumpled up yellowish paper floating at knee height.

Huh?

Isn't this a complete void where nothing exists or can exist? Why is there trash here?

You squat down hunching over your knees until the little paper ball is eye level and inspect it closer.

The color and thickness of the paper is familiar. It looks like a post-it note that’s been folded in half, tiny, uneven triangles sticking out at each of the four corners.

How weird.

Crumpled as it is, you can see now that the crooked folds and creases aren't all random. Looking closely, there seems to have been a failed attempt of trying to fold them in a sequence but lacking the proper hand to eye dexterity to do it properly.

Wait, is this…? It must be.

You recognize it now. It’s one of your unfortunate attempts at an origami frog from when you were killing time with Miguel at your work. But what is it doing here of all places?

Tentatively reaching out, you poke at the piece of paper. To your surprise there’s resistance.

That's... odd.

There's nothing else here. Nothing holding it.

Just the failed paper frog suspended in thin air.

You try again, grabbing a corner of the paper this time, but the results are the same. It stubbornly refuses to move. When you tug, it jerks back, away from you.

Squinting your eyes, you lean closer and carefully observe the space in front of you.

Now when you’re paying close attention, you can just about make out a vague, almost invisible outline.

It’s barely there, and you can only tell because the blank whiteness in front of you seems to warp slightly with the smallest tremor of a movement.

Whatever this is, it really doesn’t want you to take your piece of trash back from it.

You frown in annoyance. This doesn't make sense. Why would your poor deformed paper frog even be here? The only people who even had anything to do with the stupid thing are you and–

"Miguel?"

The movement stills at your voice.

When you don't look away, it seems spooked by your gaze, shirking at the attention. The thing shifts in its shape, shrinking down like it's trying to make itself smaller.

You try to move closer, and the obscure translucent form moves away from you, gliding seamlessly into the empty space.

Without a shape it takes you a few moments before you register its movement and what it's trying to do. It's moving fast, as if it's trying to flee from you.

Because it is. Shit!

You run after it, guided by the vague hazy contour against the nothingness that surrounds you. Even without legs, this shapeless thing is moving fast.

"Stop!" you shout, "Stop, stop, please stop! It's me!"

You leap forward, grabbing at the empty outline in front of you, and to your surprise find purchase on the nothingness under your grip.

"Miguel, stop running!" you shout.

It does. He does.

There is something there now, a semi-invisible mass, slightly more opaque than it was a second ago.

You open your mouth to speak, but you don't know what to say. Don't even know for certain that this is Miguel or not.

But you hope it is. Have to believe it is. You’re too desperate to overthink it, and you spout the first thing that comes into your head.

"Come back, Miguel. Come back, and I'll take you back to that cheap Chinese diner you liked so much. We can get all the food you want, all of it deep fried! I'll even share the egg tarts this time."

You think you see something shift before you. It could just be your imagination, but the tiniest speck of color seems to emerge from within the translucent mass.

Somehow, whatever you’re doing must be working, and you quickly try to think of what else you can say that will tempt him to come back.

Food. Maybe more about food will work? It worked for you, after all.

"The Reese buttercups in our other apartment are all expired, but I think they'd still be okay to eat, and– and– And I'll make you cookies if you come back! Blue spiderman ones that match your suit."

The speck of color pops, fading into thin air, your fingers sinking further into the nothingness of his form, and a spike of panic stabs through your chest.

Why isn’t it working!? Was it not the food that made him react after all? You don’t know what else to try.

That first time you were here, Miguel was able to bring you back to yourself with the intimate details he knew from the other lifetime you two had shared. Maybe you can do the same.

"Your name is Miguel O'hara," you start, "and- and-" And then you have to stop, not sure of what else to say. "And your eyes are red... for some reason. And you have fangs! Fangs that can deliver some kind of fucking paralysis venom, which is completely ridiculous by the way!"

Nothing happens. There’s no change save for that the form underneath you squirms and tries to get away from your grip.

"And... and..."

Shit. This is getting you nowhere.

Unlike Miguel, you haven't had the front seat experience of living a lifetime together with him. There's only so much you know about him. Because that man is more secretive than a CIA agent.

You bite down on your lip in frustration.

"Goddamnit, Miguel! I barely know anything about you because you never tell me shit!"

The shape underneath you stops wiggling underneath you.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you gather yourself, then you reopen them again, staring up at the upper part of the half-invisible shape like he's standing in front of you.

There's no point in trying to beat Miguel at a game of knowledge. You will never win. You never got to learn or memorize every personal and intimate detail about the man and his life. But there's one thing that you know beyond any doubt.

"I miss you," you tell him.

Strokes of soft colors streaks through the translucent mass at your words. A gentle blossoming spreads and you can see the opaque material reform inch by inch, until it vaguely resembles the silhouette of a body.

"I can’t even eat without you around, which has never happened to me before. I’ve been able to eat through food poisoning. But now the cupcakes from Gladis remind me of you and how you're not here, and they taste like cardboard."

He feels firmer somehow, more solid, and there’s even the faintest trace of warmth under your fingertips. Hope flutters in your chest at the change, and you tighten your grip on him.

“I miss you. More than I ever thought it could be possible to miss someone."

You can faintly make out limbs and shoulders, and the outline of a head.

"I miss falling asleep next to you. It's too quiet without your snoring, and the bed is too big without you there."

The body grows taller, and you can see the familiar tan of his skin now, the line of his jaw and the sharp angle of his nose re-materializing before your eyes.

"I miss watching you eat three dozen tacos in one sitting, scaring the tables around us. I miss having you with me and getting to talk to you, or even just sitting next to you doing nothing.”

You lean up towards him, raised on the tip of your toes, until you're up against him. “I just want you to be here with me. Please come back," you whisper into him.

Then he's there. Right in front of you, large and firm and warm as he towers above you, forehead pressed against yours, in your arms.

He’s here. Miguel is here.

His hair is a soft tousled mess. Eyes warm and hazy as he slowly blinks them open like he's just woken up from a hibernation while he gazes down on your face in an intimate silence.

It doesn’t last for very long. His gaze sharpens, blinking in rapid succession as confusion bleeds into his face. You can see the exact moment that consciousness and awareness fully return to him. Because he steps back from you, red eyes burning with an angry determination.

"What are you doing here?" he snarls at you.

Because of course he does. Of course anger is his first reaction at seeing you here.

"You can't be here," he says.

You don't even get a word in before Miguel reaches for your wrist.

"Lyla!" he barks out, and there’s a ping on your arm in response.

"Lyla, stand down," you command, smacking your palm over the face of the dial before the hologram can pop up. You already know that the next words out of his mouth will be a command to whisk you away again if you let him speak.

His lips twist into a frustrated snarl. Eyes glowing with that red fury that you recognize by now as the beginnings of an anger tantrum.

“Why don't you get it? I need to do this," he seethes, gesturing at the void, "I have to disappear. For your sake! It's my fault. I'm the reason you keep dying. I’m killing you!”

“That’s not true! You saved me! You caught me when I fell off the Chrysler building—twice!—and–”

“That doesn’t matter!” he snarls, rounding on you, “Don’t you understand!? You’re still going to die! If I'm with you, you die.”

There’s a moment of resounding silence, and you watch as the anger bleeds away from Miguel’s face, leaving something else in its place.

Something like grief.

“I can’t– I can’t do that again,” he says quietly, and he looks so sad that it damn near breaks your heart.

“Miguel…”

You don’t know what to say in the face of such raw and obvious grief. Until… suddenly, you do.

“Whether you're here or not, I could still die, Miguel."

Your words seem to hit him like a blow, and he flinches back, his eyes going round and liquid, open mouth quivering for a moment before it pulls right into a hard downturned line.

"Even if you were gone, there still wouldn’t be any guarantees," you say.

You brush your hand alongside his, trying to hold his hand in yours but he draws it away.

"You could save me by erasing yourself from existence and tomorrow a bus driver that isn't paying attention might hit me and I'd die anyhow," you continue, and he flinches visibly. "You can't control these things, and I would rather be with you and take the chance and be happy until it happens."

His hand balls up in agitation at his side. "I– I just don't want you to die again," he says, helplessness bleeding through every syllable of his words.

Your heart aches at his obvious pain. All you want, all you've ever wanted is to make that pain a little bit smaller. You step forward closing the distance between you, and he doesn't back away or move from you this time.

“Everybody dies. Regardless of what happens here I will too someday. But you’ve given me extra time. You did that. You saved me, again and again. And I’m so happy that you did. That I got to have that time with you. To share donuts with you in bed, or fold post-its frogs in the office."

His eyes close tightly, and he gives a slight shake of his head, grief and denial warring in his features. “None of that matters if you don’t survive,” he says quietly.

“You say it doesn’t matter, but it does, Miguel. Those moments matter to me. And even if we die here in this stupid video game loading screen, or if we make it out of here, but something else gets me, it will still matter to me.”

There's no telling if your grand speech is actually getting through to him because he's still not looking at you or meeting your eyes. You grab at his shoulder for his attention. It's all you can do to not shake him and rattle him until he accepts what you are trying to tell him.

"I want to be with you, and even if you can’t save me in the end, that's okay. I just want to be with you for as long as I can. However long or short of a time that is, I won’t have any regrets as long as I get to spend it with you. I told you, didn’t I? Every me in every universe would say the same, given a choice."

He doesn’t respond this time and part of you feels like you’re talking to a besieged wall. Reaching up, you cup his cheeks in your hands and pull his face down to meet your eyes.

“How many other universes are out there where those versions of us never get to know each other at all? …Thousands? …Millions? We’re the lucky ones, Miguel. We got to meet, and we have a chance against all odds. So what if it means we have to jump through a few hoops and universes to be together?”

His eyes open fully at your words, and lock on your face. You think you can see the cracks in his defenses. His hands unfurl and twitch at his sides as if he’s fighting himself to reach for you.

"I love you,” you tell him, and his lips part with a slight tremble.

You’re running out of things to say that can convince him now. The only thing that’s left is for Miguel to make the choice.

Your hand slides down from his face, and he looks distraught at the loss of contact as you take one small step back and away from him.

"Let's try to be happy this time," you tell him.

Reaching out your hand towards him, you try your best to smile through your nervousness, hoping that he is going to say yes to you this time despite his trademark stubbornness that you’ve come to love and hate sometimes.

Miguel looks at your hand, hesitation carved into every shade of red in those eyes. His hand flexes by his side, but doesn’t move.

He’s still unsure, and hope falls flat in your chest at the thought that he might very well make the choice to stay and destroy himself despite how much you don’t want him to.

But then he nods, and your heart begins to sing.

Tentative as it may be, his arm still reaches out towards you, fingers seeking out yours and he takes your hand.

"Yeah," he answers quietly. “Let’s be happy.”

Your smile grows wider, eyes watery as your vision blur around the edges when you look up at him. Happiness blossoming in your chest until it feels so full you think your ribs might burst from it.

You squeeze down on his larger hands in yours, to reassure yourself that he is really here, with you. And he is.

"Lyla," you say, and your watch pings at your command, before Lyla’s face lights up the space above.

"Good to have you back with us, boss," she says with a salute in Miguel’s direction. “Where to now?” 

“Lyla,” he acknowledges with a faint smile and a nod, but he doesn’t look away from your face. "Do the thing. Take us home. Home-home."

Warm amber light rises up to surround you both, and Miguel pulls you into his chest. A kaleidoscope of colors explodes before your eyes, swirling around the two of you as he holds you in his arms.

You can't stop smiling at him, grinning like an idiot, as you tilt up to press your forehead to his.

Reality reforms around you, specks of navy-blue filling the large and vast sky. You're standing on the rooftop of a tall building surrounded by the skyline of brightly lit skyscrapers, a labyrinth of levitating bridges and streets laid out beneath. Floating vehicles buzz and soar through the sky like flamboyant dragonflies. Below your feet there is an ocean of dotted neon lights and colorful hologram billboards filling every inch and corner of the city below.

This must be Miguel's home dimension. What did he call it?  Earth-3000-something? Nueva York, he said, and it certainly looks new—bright and fantastical, like nothing you’ve ever known before—but you only have eyes for the man in front of you.

Miguel pulls back slightly, squeezing down on your hand.

"So what do we do now? As long as I exist, the universe will still be out to get you," he says.

Despite the bleakness of the picture he’s painting, his eyes are soft and there’s something that sounds like hope in his tone.

You smile at him, eyes narrowing against the bright neon lights of the tall towering buildings around you.

"We live,” you answer, “Together. As long as we can. I hear you're some kind of genius scientist or something. I'm sure we'll think of something fun to do in the infinite multiverse."

“What do you want to do first?” he asks.

“Sleep.”

He's smiling at you, the corners of his fangs peeking out against his lower lip, eyes squinting in a way that makes him look almost boyish.

The sight of it makes your cheeks warm pleasantly and affection blossoms endlessly in your chest for him.

This isn’t the end, but if it were, it feels like it's a good one this time. Miguel walks out towards the ledge of the building, turning back to reach out his hand to you.

"Let’s go, Cielito."

[Nueva York, Earth 928-C]

The end.

Credit and Dedication: One final time, this is dedicated to @thirstworldproblemss who is my muse, my partner-in-writing-&-brainstorming, who makes writing so much more fun everyday.

And then of course. To everyone of you. We are finally here. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I want to thank everyone who has followed along in this story this entire time. Writing Every You Every Me has been one of the most joyous writing experiences I've had. That is largely because of you guys! Thank you for every heartfelt feedback you guys have left here, thank you for coming into my asks, thank you for clicking that little heart on the bottom letting me know you've read it and for the lurkers who has followed along all the while, thank you for taking the time to read this story of mine! Having this audience has made me grow so much as a writer. Having your company while I wrote this has brought me so much joy. Reading everyone's reactions and theories has been a privilege that not a lot of writers get in the process of writing a multi-chaptered story. Thank you so so much.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[mv1simp]

Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you will. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

[jeongin-lvr]

🎼 ─┈┈ hubby heeseung ̩̩͙˚ ᩙ ⠀

husband! heeseung with the fattest crush on you literally ever. he worships the ground you walk on; he practically kneels before you, awaiting every need and command you bring to him. he’s so serious when he says he’d take every star out of the sky and give it to you as a gift if you asked. which also includes in bed when he has your face buried into the messed up, unkept bedsheets, whispering i love you’s as he kisses your g-spot with his fat cock. or when he has you in the shower, bent between your legs on his knees as water rushes down his back because you looked too pretty with soapy hair and skin. he mumbles against your clit as he does so, gurled by water but his point still comes across, “the prettiest girl... and you’re all mine, thank you...“

husband! heeseung who recites his vows as he fucks you in a mating press. its crazy but he does it every single time he has you all curled up, knees beside your head, too fucked out as buckets of his cum leaks out of you and stains the sheets. he’s telling you every promise he made on your wedding day and more. he’s reminding you it really is till death do you part. he doesn’t realize he’s doing it; it’s probably just because he gets so worked up, so full of love. every thrust into your flutterung hole is heaven, and all he can think about is how badly he loves you and how badly he wants to get you pregnant.

husband! heeseung who finds you the absolute sexiest when you’re wearing your glasses and his big t-shirt, bare legs, messy hair, rosy cheeks. it’s perfection, he can’t get enough. if he sees you like that fully expect to be completely ruined within the next hour. he fucks you with the glasses on, an dyou’re confused because he doesn’t get crazy like this when you actually dress up or put effort into your appearence, and all he has to say is, “this is the you that turns me on.“ he’ll pin your hands above your head and press your knees into your chest as he stuffs himself inside of you, loving the way the fabric of his shirt bunches at your hips. you weren’t even wearing any panties anyway, what did you expect <3

husband! heeseung who kisses your wedding bands whenever you two are having intimate, lazy sex. lifting your wrist and hand to his lips and pecking your knuckles, kissing on your shaky hands until his lips trace the cold metal, humming with a smile at the way your gaze flickers to his. its the cutest thing, immediately making you smile when you see the sparkles filling his gaze. its so obvious he loves you so much. he even promises to buy you more rings because, “you deserve it,“ and he never fails to fulfill his promise. the next day he somehow comes home from work with a new band, something new for your growing collection.

husband! heeseung who is the first to bring up kids and is very serious about wanting at least two. he’ll casually bring it up into conversations and its adorable... until he’s lifting you onto the counter and lifting your skirt because you’re ovulating and it’s, word for word, “the perfect time to get you pregnant.“ he says it sneakily, with a wink and a cunning grin. you can’t say no, especially since the idea of him being the father of your children was almost perfect. you’re both young but it doesn’t hurt to try does it? so he’s waking you up to his cock filling you up in the morning, or when you’re just watching a movie he ends up sitting you on his dick and filling you up. you have no complaints. just shaky legs and a nice, warm creampie.

husband! heeseung who finally gets you pregnant and is somehow even more obsessed with you. he’s doting on you hand and foot. every craving you get he’s finding every ingredient. every symptom you experience he’s researching diligently, telling you cures or remedies, scheduling doctors apointments to get an experts opinion. and on days when all you wanna do is be near him, feel him, feel sexy with him, he’s so perfect at being exactly what you need. he worships your body; praising you on how pretty you look full of his baby, how you’re glowing, kissing your ankles or your tits or anywhere you might feel a little unsure of.