#plus sized fc

[lookalikelist]

Naomi Watanabe b. 1987 Japanese

[t4ste]

PHAITH MONTOYA ♡

[hellgifs]

kenna sharp via instagram

[morvantmortuary]

storm warning --

(seth sunday x plus size non-binary reader, 18+)

summary: Seth Sunday issues a challenge to the Morvants. it doesn’t go as anyone anticipated.

warnings: some gore, necromancer violence, someone gets struck by lightning, implied deception of the reader, Seth kind of looks down on the reader for being human but it makes sense in context, oral sex (enby receiving), penetrative sex, not so much size kink as resistance kink, implied dacryphilia on Seth’s part, implied that he’s using the reader to some degree for Reasons

general: reader is plus size and non-binary and uses they/them, but Seth uses decidedly feminine nicknames. just FYI. if any language can be tweaked for a more seamless experience otherwise, I’m always down to hear it.

here it is, our boy’s first real outing! cheers to all the other Dastmalchian-face lovers out there, we deserve the best and more.

best accompanied by this playlist, should you so desire.

eta May 2025: here it is in full, all in one piece with the epilogue. I was sitting here trying to decide if I wanted to re-upload everything in chronological order, but then I remembered the one nonny who was kind enough to say before the scrape that they wanted to read 'storm warning' on ao3 but their invite was taking forever.

to whoever that nonny was: I love you, I'm sorry I didn't get to respond before the scrape happened, and this is for you babe 🖤

Standing at the edge of the graveyard, Seth Sunday watched the dusk soak up the inky black of the thunderhead rolling in. It was out of season for so early in the year, but that was the point.

He had a rule about first impressions: it was gauche not to start as he intended to go on. Especially when he was going against the house. 

Especially the House on the far side of the cemetery.

Rolling his shoulders, he took a long breath through his nose and exhaled between his lips. All the air down here was wet; it made summoning quicker but made the whole process heavier. A lot more weight to have to balance along the column of his spine.

Not to mention, he could have all the humidity in the world, but being in someone else’s home court like he was right now still posed a challenge.

One more deep breath, and a stretch of his scapulae like a swimmer about to slice through water. 

Then he fixed his eyes on the door on the House’s back porch - an anchor point for what was about to happen - and took his first step across the cemetery’s threshold.

He actually smiled as a sudden pressure caused his ears to pop, the surrounding sounds of the outside world suddenly smothered by an unseen layer of gauze. The air rippled just enough to be perceptible from the spectral tripwire he’d set off, ruffling the patches of grass that had grown long at the bases of crumbling mausoleums.

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his black duster coat, he whistled an old showtune nobody remembered anymore as he continued towards the middle of the churchyard, his pace a leisurely stroll.

At the dead center in the crossing of the two main paths through, he stopped, still whistling and kicking absently at some stones there with the toe of his freshly shined dress shoe.

He only looked up when he heard the echo of squeaking old hinges.

In the gloaming dark, the door on the House’s back porch seemed to have opened on its own. Any lights that might have been in the windows had all gone dark, leaving it looking abandoned and somehow older than its already impressive years.

Lips still pursed to whistle, Seth was riveted as a tall, perfectly shadowed figure emerged, two eye-level pinpricks of a bright amethyst visible from clear across the cemetery and through the treeline. It settled itself on one side of the porch, leaning on the railing with its elbows as if simply contemplating the view.

Another figure emerged from the endless black that was the doorway, this one with gleaming eyes of emerald. Its gaze never wavered from him as it moved to the other side of the porch, then climbed up to perch on the railing itself. 

To Seth’s curiosity and mild delight, it kicked its dangling feet as it watched him, as though eager for the show he was about to give.

Finally — At last, he thought, inhaling without realizing it — a third shadowed figure appeared, slightly taller than the first. Seth could’ve mistaken the deep crimson light that stared at him for the glare off a gator’s eyes in the night, the nasty big lizard sizing him up from its filthy swamp.

This third figure leaned against a column near the porch’s low stairs, casual, as if waiting to greet an expected guest coming up the drive.

The muffling gauze from the graveyard suddenly spread over the whole property, as the distant calls of night birds and the gentle chirring of insects hushed out bit by bit. Like something had come along and drank all the sound from the world.

For what felt like ages but must have only been a minute, the three figures watched Seth — unmoving, unblinking. Frozen perfectly in place with the growing silence.

The air itself seemed to press closer around him, growing somehow denser with the beginning crackles of… something.

He had to move now, or they were going to use all that Something up before he could.

Seth let out one last whistle — two quick notes, a “yoo-hoo!” of an opening salvo — then raised his tensed right hand straight up over his head.

When he snapped his fingers, a thunderbolt taller than God shot down from the sky not more than fifty feet in front of him, bathing the entire cemetery in blue-white light as it made contact with the ground.

When the thunder finally caught up with the light, it shook the earth hard enough that he could hear the kitchen windows rattling from all the way over here.

And with that, his challenge was officially set.

As the light began to fade, his vision studded through with bright-blue afterburn, he gave a theatrical bow from the waist - his left hand pressed to his chest bashfully, his right flourishing out to his side.

…More silence.

Seth frowned at his shoes, waiting a tick. He was used to more. Maybe a ‘holy shit!’ or an ‘oh fuck what was that?’, at least.

Still nothing.

With an insulted scoff, Seth raised his head long enough to see that the porch was empty —

But didn’t stand quick enough to block the punch that cracked hard into the side of his face.

Seth fought to right himself even as he stumbled, his left eye suddenly crawling with deep red sparks which seemed to swarm onto the site of the strike. He hissed as their gathering burned like a brand, and when he hastily reached up to wipe them away, the hiss became a yelp of pain as his own skin blistered and cracked. His nose was suddenly filled with the familiar scent of putrefaction, and he rounded on his would-be attacker —

Only to have to step back fast to avoid some sort of howling creature springing at his eyes.

Seth instinctively grabbed the thing that was lunging at him and immediately yelped again, realizing he’d just shoved his palms between two powerful jaws and all the teeth they contained. The leathery desiccated skull of an alligator was trying to snap itself around his head, its spine clattering loudly as it wriggled in his grasp. Bony limbs much longer than a regular gator’s — what were those? Big cat? Something with claws - were kicking at him, also reeking of decay, and it took him a minute to realize they were part of the thing he was trying to keep from ripping him to pieces. 

The entire creature glowed with an eerie green that made it almost look radioactive, highlighting what thin strips of dried flesh still clung to the various mishmashed parts. When its cleft back hoof (hoof?) stomped down hard on the delicate metatarsals of his foot, Seth cried out in both rage and pain, and finally yanked hard enough to pull and  snap the creature’s jaws apart entirely.

The green glow immediately vanished from the bones, and the whole thing seemed to lose whatever force enchanted it, clattering at his feet like a taxidermist’s scrap pile.

He slammed the mandibles to the dirt in frustration, whirling again to find who’d sicced the thing on him with a raised fist of his own and a sudden lash of rain ripped from the clouds themselves —

Only to feel a cold that penetrated deep beneath his sleeve suddenly lock itself around his wrist, chilling him to the very bone… which was a tricky feat indeed, considering how much it took for him to feel temperature. 

Over the growing gale, he was aware of a low, panicked murmuring filling his ears, voices overlapping with pleas and moans of terror and questions in languages he couldn’t pin down. There was a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision before his other wrist was similarly captured, and both were yanked to the absolute limit of his arms while barely avoiding dislocation. As he snapped his head left and right to find the attacker, all he could make out was a thick mist — one that somehow managed to cluster densely together into almost a shadow, despite the winds of his storm escalating with his rage. 

The force of it whipped the lush treeline between the House and the cemetery into a flailing frenzy, and though he couldn’t yet pull down another show-stopper bolt, a smaller strike got perilously close to where he saw a figure wreathed in green watching some distance away.

There was a shriek of surprise — The Resurrectionist, he realized, the sister — and for a moment, the ghosts’ hold on his wrists faltered. He saw another figure closer by, the amethyst eyes, spinning to find the source of the sound. As he did, whatever motion he’d been doing to bring his deceased assistants to this side of the Veil was incomplete, and they almost immediately began to flicker.

Seth yanked his arms free, only realizing they’d had him off the ground when he landed on ungainly feet. He straightened again, beginning the gesture to concentrate the gathering, frothing static into something sharp and focused —

Only to get punched on the other side of his jaw by a figure out of his eyeline.

This strike knocked Seth sideways, and the red-eyed figure flung himself after, seizing his falling form in a messy lunge that took them both to the cemetery soil.

Seth’s howl was less surprise and more fury that this fucking bayou bastard had pushed him into the dirt, especially when this coat was dry-clean only in this podunk little town. He shoved his hand upward against his assailant, meaning to hook his fingers under a lip and tear a cheek, but was unable to find his mark amid the repeated punches to his skull and throat.

The Reaper Seth had heard so much about was straddling his torso, one hand clenched around his throat. The other fist was absolutely pummeling him, each blow gleaming an aortic crimson around the skin and leaving a caustic, burning sensation with whatever part of his face it landed on. Seth did his best to keep his groans to a minimum, to buck and twist and try to dump his assailant into the dirt next to him for some proper reciprocation, but found the Reaper a tricky man to unseat. 

Apparently unsatisfied with merely beating the shit out of him, Seth felt the fist suddenly yank his hair and pull his skull straight up off the ground, only to smash it back down against the ancient packed earth. He did this a few times, punctuating each lift of Seth’s skull with a snarl:

“Get.” Crunch.

“Away.” Crunch.

“From.” Crunch.

“Us.” 

The red eyes filled his vision, and Seth felt his breath catch in his throat — not in fear, but in wonder.

Where he had thought about tearing the Reaper’s face, the use of its own magic seemed to have done that already — he was gazing into the face of something distinctly Not Alive, the flesh of his cheeks now mere strings of sinew holding the lower mandible to the skull. The same red of his eyes filtered through the gaps, and between them, Seth could see a black tongue, forked, that tensed and writhed like a snake.

The two were practically nose to rotting nose, the stench of decay inescapable now. Seth had to fight the urge not to gag. 

“What,” he managed, smirking as much as his wounded, burning face would allow. “Happened to ‘Southern Hospitality,’ huh?”

“You arrogant motherfucker,” The Reaper hissed through rotten teeth, his voice layered with something Else. A feeling Seth recognized from his own time at the crossroads: the instinctive twist of terror in his gut and all the hair on his body standing on end, his body screaming on an existential level  to run away. “You of all people should know to leave well enough alone. You have no idea what you’re askin’ for.”

“Why?” Seth cocked a brow as best he could, ignoring how his heart was hammering under his sternum. It was here, staring him in the face. The one he’d been hunting for ages, right here, in the fetid flesh. He swallowed hard, summoning his nerve. “Scared of a little competition?” 

At his side, out of the Reaper’s sight, he stretched his index and middle fingers, his thumb spreading parallel to them as far as it could. Above them, the rain lashed harder, leaving them both soaked as the uneven sacred ground began to flood around them.

The Reaper grabbed both his lapels, dragging his head and shoulders roughly upward. “Listen to me, you fucking idiot, it’s not a competition. I am warnin’ you, you don’t want this.”

Seth felt a manic laugh escape his lips before he could stop it. “What’s the matter, Lifer? You don’t want to give it up? The seat of power you don’t even use?” He practically spat it into the necromancer’s face, his voice acrid with venom. “I could do so much more, and all I need is to take it. Why not make it easy for me?”

Something akin to surprise flashed across the Reaper’s expression, and after a moment, he did something that made Seth’s stomach sink:

He laughed back.

“You don’t even know, do you?” It said. It grabbed his throat, slamming him hard back to the ground. “It’s not me anymore, dipshit. You’re tryin’ to take it from someone who don’t even have it.”

Seth blinked. This… was not what he’d been told. “The seat is vacant,” he managed, around the torrent of rain that was still soaking them both. He could feel the water creeping up his neck, the tepid muddy grit inching towards his ears. “You haven’t filled it.”

“I’m not even in line,” the Reaper snarled.

“Way to pick the wrong fight, pendejo!” The Summoner taunted from where he stood, still hiding the Ressurectionist behind a newly summoned ghost horde.

Seth took a minute to process this before shrugging slightly under the Reaper’s knees. Fair enough.

A good performer can always improvise, after all.

Searching as best he could through his lashes, Seth sighted the green and purple glow of the Reaper’s compatriots not far away, one standing protectively in front of the other and summoning new spectral figures to their side. He inhaled, committing the spot to memory.

The Reaper’s face changed again, its red eyes widening as he shook his head. It looked, for a second, like he was trying to shake loose the influence of the thing inside him. “Listen to me,” it said, looking down into Seth’s face. “If They put you up to this, if They’re tryin’ to start shit, you can’t listen to Them.” Something was happening to his voice, a layer peeling back to sound more… human? What was this, some sort of trick? “Listen to me, man, They’re not lookin’ out for you, They don’t give a shit about any of us. They’re just tryin’ to make a useful fool out of you so They can—”

Seth felt what showman’s composure he’d managed to keep finally crack, his grin spasming into a snarl of his own. “How about you shut your hick mouth, and we’ll see who’s the fool?”

As he exhaled, he snapped his stretched fingers, and the energy coursing through the thunderheads above them slid into formation.

Small bolts of blue-white light dropped into the cemetery, providing him with enough of a distraction to push the Reaper off and regain the high ground.

After that, the other two rushed forward, and as Seth felt his own fingers began to crack and change, the gloves came off.

—

The night-time thunder crashing overhead drowned out the crunch and engine of the sleek black rental car that pulled up to your place, coming to a stop within sight of your dark bedroom window.

Once he had the damn thing in park, Seth allowed himself to slump slightly over the steering wheel and let out a frustrated growl.

Those nepo baby little shits. Those spoiled cheating brats, those know-nothing walking corpses —

“FUCK!” Seth reeled back and punched the wheel hard, then immediately cursed himself for his haste. He winced as he scanned your window again, immensely grateful he hadn’t accidentally blared his horn. He couldn’t risk catching your attention too soon.

You couldn’t see him now. 

Not like this.

Using a hand whose fingers were still slightly too long, too inky black at the tips with crooked nails, he tilted the rearview mirror towards his own face. After a moment’s hesitation, he carefully lifted off the sunglasses perched haphazardly on the bruised bridge of his nose, despite it being almost midnight.

His eyes were perfect pitch black, looking almost like holes in his skull, which was currently clearly visible under his damaged skin.

“That bespectacled little pissant,” he hissed through teeth that were still too sharp, too pointed. He prodded with a finger at the blistered, ruined skin of his face, covered in the remnants of punches that had sucked the life from it and left him near-mummified.

Indeed, he felt the tip of a claw threaten to puncture the thin flap and rip the side of his face open with little effort.

“Oh, I’m going to hang him outside that ugly house by his own tie, and watch the maggots eat him before he can scab over,” he muttered to himself, looking down to survey the rest of the damage. 

Having already shed his ruined coat, his suit jacket was torn, nearly shredded at parts of the sleeves from the massive teeth. “After I steal his sister’s pretty face, and wear it while I strangle her with her own hair.”

He winced in obvious pain as he pulled the jacket off, gasping and having to stop for a moment as he tried to pull it over his left shoulder. “And the Summoner.” He gritted his teeth as he examined his wrists, bruised black and blue now. “I’m gonna kill him first,” he went on, his tone deceptively cheerful. “I’m going to take his head and put it in a box, and tie it up with a bow, and mail it to his dear mamita, and then I’m going to put his ghost in an antique doll, and I’m going to stick it that in front of the girl’s corpse so he can watch it putrefy in real time.”

He let out a long, slow breath through his nose, closing his eyes as he rested his right hand against his wonky shoulder. He muffled the soft whimper that threatened to escape as he adjusted his grip, and then, with a sickening crunch, shoved his torso hard into the frame of the car until the joint popped back into its socket.

He forced the brief, anguished yell that emerged back into speech. “—AAAand then.” The words caught in his teeth, which were still not quite human. “I’ll set it in front of the boy’s, so he can watch me skin that twiggy nerd alive every time he re-generates an epidermis. Forever.”

He was panting now, swallowing the wave of too-warm spit that heralded his body wanting to puke from the pain. “And then I think I’ll take all their hearts and eyes,” he went on, scrunching his eyes closed as he felt his nails retracting slowly back into his fingertips. “And just make a pretty little wet specimen display for their living room mantle.” His teeth were retracting into his gums to their previous shape, flesh shredded and bloody as the bones ground against each other. His temples throbbed, white hot ice picks pressing hard into his skull as it re-shaped itself into something human. “And They Who will say ‘Oh, Sunday, we love what you’ve done with Maxi’s old place, it’s so chic now,’ and I’ll say ‘What, this old thing? Oh, you know I’m but a dilettante, thank you ever so kindly. Please, sit down, let me have my decapitated Morvant corpse-servants take your coats. Please don’t mind them dripping gangrene everywhere, they’re so silly and stupid that way.’” He spat a tooth into his own hand, a fragment of the dead nerve still clinging to one of the roots.

It had been a long time since a fight had dragged his own Provided Form out of him, leaving his human glamor in such disarray. But the Morvants, as much as he absolutely loathed to admit it, had given as good as they’d gotten.

Until he’d dropped one last show-stopper bolt on the Summoner, that is.

He glowered into his rearview mirror, remembering how he and the Resurrectionist had been going tooth and nail, her pulling with her own magic like she was trying to yank his bones out through muscle and sinew, until he’d realized another consciousness was trying to push in on his own. A feeling of something trying to sneak into his skull while he was distracted, already feeling phantom fingers crawling up his arm to slip into his hand like a skin glove.

It was almost clever. Distracting him so their Veil-walker could slip unnoticed past his mental defenses. He found himself nearly admiring the other man’s audacity.

Unfortunately for that idiot, Seth had been keeping a bolt locked and loaded for his big finale, waiting for just the right time. He hadn’t meant for the fight to end, but he’d needed to make sure no one could creep into his head through a back door, use his own storm against him. It might have meant his finisher was less flashy, but you know, if that’s what it took.

But when he’d turned back after to finish what they’d started, the Resurrectionist had only screamed, like he’d dropped it on her instead. She tore herself from him, running to where the Summoner had simply dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Perplexed, Seth had turned from her just in time to see the Reaper racing towards them, and braced himself to avenge his own beating —

But the other man had passed by the opportunity to fight anew, also running to where the woman was now bent over the limp form in the dirt.

The two were murmuring quickly, the lights of their magic beginning to flicker, and the Resurrectionist making a sound like… crying? Was she actually crying? This was a challenge of combat, what did she expect?

“—Pulse,” he had just barely heard the Reaper say. “Come on, back inside.”

He’d lifted the man with surprising ease, despite their nearly equal height, and the two remaining Morvants began — Retreating?

Were they seriously running? Was he seeing this?

These were the necromancer darlings of They Who Provide? Their perfect death-wielding machines he’d heard so much about?

It’d taken him a full minute before he’d realized they really were just leaving him standing there.

“…Hey. Hey!” Seth had called after them, taking a couple stunned steps after.

Neither of them had looked back, continuing to make their way back towards the House — where he knew for sure he couldn’t follow. Not unless he’d wanted to risk the Ritual backfiring on him, and all this being for naught.

“HEY!” he’d shouted that time, his patience quickly wearing thin.

The two had barely paused, glancing only partially over their shoulders to look at him.

“What the hell are you doing? We’re not done here!” Seth called. “I challenged you! You owe me a fight to the finish!” He’d had to restrain himself from stamping his foot, though the urge was strong.

“Shut up,” The Resurrectionist scoffed, choked with furious tears. They’d advanced again, leaving his chosen field of play in a clear violation of the Code —

And a direct insult to his standing as a fellow practitioner.

His nails curled into the leather of his steering wheel at the memory, leaving deep gashes in the material. Though he shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed, when they’d just had it handed to them at birth. They had never had to earn it, like he had.

“GET BACK HERE,” Seth had yelled, losing his temper at last. “HOW DARE YOU! GET BACK HERE AND FINISH THIS!”

The Reaper had whirled on him then, the two necromancers standing at the edge of the tree line with the Summoner’s limp body in his arms. The red in his eyes was fading, and for the first time, Seth saw the brown-burgundy iris underneath.

In a voice that was entirely human, he’d sneered, “You’re not worth the dirt it’d take to bury you.”

Before Seth could respond, they’d disappeared through the thickest part of the trees, and the invisible bubble over the cemetery burst. The world around them had had no knowledge of the storm, and the birds and bugs continued to chirp and chirr, having seen nothing more than a few flashes of light and heard nothing more than some muffled rumbled.

Though they’d scattered to the winds when Seth had let loose a shriek, all wordless fury and frustration let loose into the pitch-black night sky.

Sitting here now, hunched over his steering wheel and trying his best not to vomit, he was more sore that he’d let slip that moment of weakness than he was about his body trying to shape itself into something resembling a living man again.

So they’d flagrantly abandoned an official challenge to their dominion. He’d known they tended to flaunt things in They Who Provide’s faces, but this was simply beyond the pale.

At this point, getting rid of them would be like pruning a stunted branch from an illustrious tree. And he’d bloom in their place as a healthy graft, bringing fruit to bear once more.

…Or something. Whatever, the metaphor was there, he was going to kill them all and take what they’d never deserved to begin with.

But first, he knew it would take something special to put those three in the ground where they belonged. And right now, he desperately needed to just get back to his usual self.

But that was what he had you for, didn’t he?

He dug a cell phone out from a niche in his dashboard, having to squint against the noxious bright light of the screen as he sought your last conversation. He loathed these little omnipresent rectangles, truth be told, but he was grateful for them at moments like these, where he couldn’t bear to be seen. 

Beat the hell out of having to find a payphone, anyway.

When he hit the call button, he could see a soft pinpoint of light begin to glow in the dark of your room. He could always depend on you to keep your phone close at hand.

It took you a few rings to answer, and your voice was sweetly sleepy when you finally did. “Hello?”

“Aw, cupcake,” Seth cooed, his voice completely at odds with his ragged appearance. “I’m sorry, sweetness, did I wake you from a good dream?”

He saw the little light you used on your bedside table click on, the room bathed in a gentle luminescence that barely penetrated the dark. “Nothing special,” you said quickly, and he smirked a little as he heard you clear your throat to sound more awake. “Nothing I don’t mind being interrupted by you, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pretending to pout for effect. “I couldn’t bear to bother my baby if they’re tired.”

But he knew you. You would say yes.

You were always so sweet. So pliant to his every little suggestion.

It really made things easier than he’d expected.

“No, not at all,” you insisted, muffling a yawn as you did so. “Are you nearby?”

“Closer than you think.” Seth got out of the car, closing the door to punctuate his point. 

“Oh!” He heard the hurried rustling of your sheets on the other end. “I’m sorry babe, I didn’t hear you pull up, I’ll be—”

“No, no, no, angel, don’t trouble yourself,” he cooed again, eyes on your window as he headed for your porch. “You’re right where I want you. Trust me.”

“…Oh.” The sound was softer this time than your previous squeak of surprise. “Are you sure? I mean — I could get up and make some coffee—”

“Perish the thought. You stay right there and don’t move a muscle,” he said, an edge of a command creeping into his tone. “I’ll show myself in.”

He heard a breathy exhale on your end, and the sound of you settling back onto your mattress. “…Okay,” you managed at last, when you must have realized you hadn’t spoken for a minute. “I’ll be… right here.”

Seth smirked again, despite the way it hurt his face. “That’s a good doll.” He nudged the flower pots on your porch aimlessly around with his shoe, enough to make it sound like he was finding your spare key. “Tell you what — keep the lights off for me, hmm?”

“Um — sure.” A pause. “You’ll find your way in okay?” A bit of concern crept in to your voice. It was cute, how you still thought he was human. He wasn’t sure at this point if you genuinely didn’t know yet, or if you were just explaining things away as misunderstandings, odd coincidences.

Either suited him just fine.

“Call it my first trick of the night.” He couldn’t help a painful grin at the way he heard you swallow. “See you soon.”

He hung up, then gestured lazily with his fingers so the lock undid itself. No one in a town this small used deadbolts. It was… quaint.

He let himself in as he promised he would, kicking off his shoes and folding up his frayed suit jacket to place on your front table. If you noticed it before he left, he’d make up a story. It wouldn’t be difficult.

 You were so trusting, so generous of heart, he almost felt bad about how easily you took him at his word.

…Almost.

He gestured again to lock the door behind him — this was a private party, after all — and turned, stepping into and through the shadows of your house -

To appear just outside your bedroom door.

It’d be too quick, logically, for him to have walked all that way in just a few seconds. But you were sweet, forgiving. You might just think you’d spaced out, lost track of time.

At any rate, it wasn’t his concern what you thought.

He nudged your door open, letting the squeak of the hinges announce him as he lingered in the doorway.

In the dark, he saw you bolt up where you were waiting for him on top of your covers - how sweet of you, to be so convenient, and in one of his ‘borrowed’ t-shirts too. “Seth?” You did, indeed, sound surprised. Maybe you were more awake than he thought.

“Hi, doll.” He took his time walking in, letting you hear each step as he crossed your room (careful to avoid the discarded dirty laundry on your floor as he did so). He unbuttoned the top of his shirt for the first time since he’d put it on that day, the ache beginning to return to his cheekbones and his shoulders. He was going to be greedy, he could already tell. “You have a good day?”

“Fine. Pretty ordinary — my coworkers are sniping at each other, as usual, but they left me out of it.” You moved as he moved, spooky action at a distance or whatever it was called, drawing your legs closer on your bed to make room for him. “How about you?”

“Ugh.” He let himself tip forward onto your mattress, climbing up with his elbows so he laid there on his stomach. “A nightmare.”

“Aww, no.” You instinctively reached forward to card your fingers through his hair, and he hoped that whatever blood might be congealed there, you just thought it was pomade. “I’m so sorry, babe - what happened?”

“Mmf.” He let himself crawl again to rest his chin on your bare thighs, and didn’t miss the soft inhale you tried to hide. “New collaborators didn’t really want to… collaborate, as it were. It was a very frustrating rehearsal.”

“That sucks,” you said, all sympathy. It was so funny how such a benign phrase now would’ve scandalized his mother a century ago. You said it without thought or pause. “Do you have to work with them? Can’t you just tell them to fuck off, and hire someone else to work with?” 

As you continued to stroke his hair, one hand reached towards his face — he caught it just in time, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Mmno,” he mumbled. “I need them, if I’m going to take my act in this new direction.” He held your arm, kissing the bones at the base of your hand and up your wrist. “But at the end of the day, I get to come home to you, so who cares about them?”

He felt you shift slightly, shy; he’d train you out of that yet. If he was going to keep you, there would be no shyness when he acknowledged that claim. 

When everything was ready, he’d make sure you wore it like the crown that it was.

“Come here,” he said, cutting off any further protest.

Like the good little creature you were, you moved closer immediately, lying back on your mattress like he preferred. Underwear already gone, though he wouldn’t have minded doing that himself.

He sat up on his knees, discarding his shirt and the bloody undershirt beneath it. Part of him acknowledged it didn’t make much sense, keeping around a human consort when there were plenty of eligible practitioners among They Who Decide. Possibly someone from the River family, the Guillemettes, would’ve made a more strategic choice. 

They who kept the river under their thumb controlled most of the country, after all.

But as he pulled you closer to him, gripping a plush thigh with each hand and pushing them apart, he disliked the idea of having to… get comfortable with someone else, all over again.

You were just how he wanted you, save for that lingering doubt in yourself. Eager to please, not jaded or cynical…

And sweet, he thought, as he pressed a kiss to the inside of each thigh. Almost too sweet. You were starting to become an indulgence, a habit.

He snaked the very tip of his tongue along your slit, listening for your telltale gasp, the way you twitched hard underneath him. He held your thighs even tighter as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, before using the flat of his tongue to part them.

“Seth—” 

You were already so wet, he wondered if he’d interrupted a particularly scrumptious dream when he’d called. As his tongue slowly grazed your clit, he could already feel you soaking down the line of his jaw, searing the skin further.

It was too soon to pull from you, but his wounds were thirsty, waiting.

Poor thing, you were going to have a hell of a time getting up in the morning.

“Oh, god.” 

He pulled you flush against his mouth so you had no room to escape or try to wriggle free, and he pushed your thighs onto his shoulders, circling your clit to make you squirm against his face. He loved when you couldn’t take it, when you tried to move because you felt it too much. It made such a mess, and it was all the more fun to hold you down until you tearfully begged for mercy.

Your hands curled into his hair as you gasped, stuttering nonsense as you tried not to buck against his face. He let your clit press against the bridge of his nose for a moment as he slipped his tongue inside you - still a bit longer than it should have been in a human, but he was counting on you being too distracted to notice.

He heard you whining, your resolve dissolving as you ground yourself against him, and he met your movements with his own, lapping at the center of you.

Already, he could feel something tightening in him like a stringed instrument, followed by the sharp ache of things preparing to knit themselves back together. 

“Come on, doll,” Seth whispered against your cunt, laving your clit again with a new desperation. He needed you to come for this to work, but you were also so close, he could taste it on you. “I got you. Just let go.”

You audibly moaned, and he shoved his tongue against your clit, moving your hips hard against his face with his hands to encourage you to ride it out.

“Oh, fuck.” Your nails dug into his scalp, but you followed his bidding, dragging yourself against his tongue as the sounds filled your empty room. At last, with a shudder and pulling his hair to the point where it ached, you came undone with a sound like a sob of his name.

There it was. He took the energy you gave, the light under your skin scattering into his as he pulled it down like a black hole. Flickers of white sparks found the parts of him that needed it most: The skin of his face was sealing itself closed again as he drank you down, feeling your hips jerk more harshly against his mouth, and he felt his wrists as he held you begin to melt the bruises underneath the skin.

Just the one would’ve been enough to put him back together, but he was as greedy as he thought he’d be, lapping at you well after it became overstimulating and your sobs continued. He wanted more, he couldn’t help himself. You just made him feel so good.

“Seth, please,” you whimpered, and he was happy to oblige, roughly manipulating your body so he could move underneath you and fall onto his back. He was less afraid of you seeing him now that his face was fixing itself — his less visible wounds would take longer, but he could power through those.

He set you on his ribs as he reached down to undo his belt, and you ground yourself down on his torso impatiently, soaking the skin there. He hissed through gritted teeth as you rode a bruise you couldn’t see, but if anything, he angled to better position you on top of it, loving the way your mouth fell open as the pain seared him from within.

Before he could ditch the rest of his clothes, you took the opportunity, pulling the offending garments away leave his cock leaking against his stomach. 

You straddled it before he could move, grinding the heat of you against it, soaking it with the remnants of your first orgasm that he hadn’t managed to lick away. He couldn’t help a groan, his hands falling to your hips and squishing the flesh there covetously between his long fingers, until he knew there would be marks there the next day. 

He secretly loved the idea of you walking around with his hands on you underneath your clothes, going about your day while he continued to cling to what was his. As his own jaw fell open from his tip pressing against you, he planted a spell on your skin, making it so tomorrow you would abruptly be transported to exactly this moment whenever your clothes brushed the marks. And a little something on his end, too, so he would feel it in his gut whenever you had to relive it in front of whoever else was in the room.

He already couldn’t wait to hear about it when you got home from work. He’d have to fight not to grin like a cat that got the cream the whole time.

His hands still guiding your hips, you began to settle onto him, having to stop every so often to breathe and try to relax so you could slide further down. 

Even if he wasn’t a bit of an outlier - which he was, he’d gathered that through word of mouth over the last century or so - you were just so delicate. It was almost precious, how you had to breathe deep before you could keep him in you. How he had to coax and kiss and plead while your lip trembled and your voice hitched, so he could have you from the inside out.

He hoped he ruined you for other people. It was selfish. He could own that.

But he salivated over the idea that after all the fussing and whispers and pushing, anything less than him would leave you achingly empty.

“You’re doing so well, doll,” he murmured, tracing the skin of your ribs, watching you bite your lip and tears threaten at your lashes as your body fought to hold him in. “Come on, angelface, you can take more. I know you can.”

“I’ve told you, you’re big for me,” you protested, the tears creeping into your voice now. “It takes - ah- time.”

“I know, precious, but you’re such a sweetheart to be so… accommodating.” He pushed himself up so he could wrap his arms around your waist, kissing lightly at your shoulders, along your collarbone. He rolled his hips against yours, which caused an open-mouthed whimper to escape you. “Please, I just want to give a good doll what they deserve. Make sure they have sweet dreams.”

You took another breath, your hands sliding up his chest and resting on his shoulders. He kissed up one side of your neck as he felt you try to relax around him, push yourself down further onto his shaft.

He lingered there, kissing your pulse, the soft skin above your chest, letting you take your time. He traced a fingertip up and down the column of your spine, gathering the small beads of sweat he found there and rubbing them into the tooth marks that creature had left in his fingers.

He felt the wounds close as you shifted in his lap, and he had to fight not to let his hips move against the feeling. He didn’t want to hurt you so much that it wasn’t fun anymore, after all.

“…Do you want help?” he asked after a moment, using his nose to push your hair away so he could nuzzle your cheek. “Just a little?”

You were panting slightly, and for a brief second, he wondered if he’d played his hand too early and worn you out —

But then you nodded, and he grinned.

He took your chin in his hand, turning your head to shove his tongue in your mouth, make sure you could taste yourself. You were ravenous, your nails already catching at his shoulders, his upper arms. You were receptive, he could work with that.

He manhandled you again as he moved to his knees, pushing you back against your mattress but keeping your hips parallel. He returned your thighs to his shoulders, leaving you nearly bent double underneath him. “Okay?”

You nodded mutely, and he settled his hips against yours, enjoying the push there of your flesh against his pelvic bone.

“Alright, we’re going to go slow,” he soothed. He kept almost nose to nose with you, pushing his hips up and into yours, having to bite his lip to muffle a moan at the resistance. 

He heard you hiss underneath him, felt you writhe against it, your mouth falling open again with soft little pants.

He pushed into you with an aching slowness even as you began to whine, only stopping when your hand suddenly came to rest against his chest — your agreed upon signal. He had to mask his frustration, almost teeth-gnashingly close to being all the way inside the heat of your tight cunt.

“Good hurt or bad hurt?” he whispered, his dark eyes searching your face even as yours were squeezed closed. When you looked like that, it could go either way, and both left him with a certain kind of hunger.

You caught your breath, your eyes eventually opening to meet his, and you nodded once. “Good,” you said, your voice only a touch unsteady.

He grinned, and the lightning outside made it flash in the dark. “That’s my baby.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Hang in there for me, we’re so close.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath, and your hands settled again between his shoulder blades. “Come on,” you urged, tentatively rocking your hips against his.

Well. If you insisted.

Seth pushed you back into a full mating press, slamming his hips against yours to at last have you completely. He heard you cry out, but felt your nails dig into his skin, your legs lock around his hips even as they shook.

Bracing himself against your mattress, he didn’t bother to hold back, feeling the way your cunt drooled and coated him down to the base even as you repeated his name as a plea, then as a sob. 

But your hips moved against his, you were just as greedy, and he felt himself grinning at just how feral you felt in turn.

He was pleasantly surprised, even, when you shoved your hands hard enough against his chest to push him over. You moved with him so you were on top again, your hands pinning him now as you rode him into the mattress.

Seth actually laughed through his groan, and he watched with wide eyes as you fucked yourself on him, your voice less a sob now and bordering on a breathless cry.

He watched you come again, and your nails digging into his chest were what sent him over. He fucked his own orgasm up into you as you shivered, coming down from yours, and when you finally collapsed onto the mattress next to him, he made a point to push you onto your back to pin you beneath him. He ground against you with the last of his aftershocks, licking the sweat from your neck, kissing your swollen lips with a marked greed.

It was only then that you made a noise of concern, pulling back slightly to reach up between you. “Is that blood?” You swiped your hand against his lip, finding the last remnant of the cut there from earlier. You looked at him, eyes wide. “Seth, did you get hurt?”

He laughed, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes as he looked at your sweet face. “No, angel, don’t worry. I just bit it earlier, when I got frustrated during rehearsal.”

You frowned, tracing the spot again with your finger. “Are you sure you can’t work with someone who, like… gets your vision?” Your eyes met his, and he’d almost swear his chest fluttered. You were so keen to take his side, it was adorable. “Is it worth trying to make it work with jerks who can’t appreciate you?”

“Oh, doll face.” Seth chuckled, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, your mouth in slow succession. He lingered a while on the last, enjoying the taste of you on your own lips, the way you echoed the orgasm he gave you back to him. 

You bit down on his, reopening the wound, and he didn’t miss how your eyes glinted in another lightning flash from the window.

There was a fierceness in you yet, and he would be the one to pull it into the open.

He pulled away, his tongue grazing the wound as he saw you lick the blood of your lower lip. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He kissed your forehead again, then brought you down to the mattress with him, running a hand over your hair. “They’ll see it my way. I can promise you that.”

You were sleeping on his chest only minutes after, drained in more ways than one.

In the dark of your room, he decided having a human consort as a new necromancer would just be something that They Who Provide would have to accept.

If the Morvants could flout the rules, he didn’t see why he couldn’t break just one, after all.

Epilogue:

Down the second darkest hallway on the second floor, and in the furthest bedroom, Rora was curled in a out-of-place wingback chair that sported the telltale bleached white fabric of Mathilde’s sick room. It had clearly been dragged from there and shoved, with no small difficulty, into the corner closest to the head of the antique wooden bed –

Where Hector had lain in the center, in clean pajamas and perfectly motionless, for the last seventy-two hours. Breathing, but only just, eyes closed to the world.

That uncomfortable too-comfortable look of someone on the precipice of the Veil.

Standing guard next to him was an IV stand that Maxi had hustled up from the old séance room in the sub-basement, the metal part semi-rusty with disuse. Two bags of fluids were rigged to a hastily-set port in his elbow, now nearly empty, but with regular alarms on Maxi’s phone to come and change them out.

In her hand, Rora scolled through a phone of her own that she still barely wanted to touch, looking through her own history of search engine queries:

Hit by lightning no hospital

Cardiorespiratory arrest symptoms

Barotrauma definition

Acoustic injury definition

Intracranial hemorrhage definition

Keraunoparalysis definition

Dyspnea definition

Hit by lightning direct strike coma

Hit by lightning direct strike coma how long

Hit by lightning direct strike coma how long NO AI

She was typing yet another - Fucking hit by lightning direct strike no hospital coma goddammit - when Hector sitting bolt upright and sucking in as much air as his lungs could hold made her drop the phone entirely.

“Oh, shit!” She threw herself out of the chair and onto the mattress, holding him upright while he sputtered and coughed.

“Just breathe,” she begged, resting his back against her chest and doing her best not to squeeze him against her heart like she wanted to. “Just breathe, Hex, breathe for me.”

“I– Que?” Hector looked over his shoulder in her direction, speaking in between hacking coughs.

“Breathe,” Rora repeated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Ow, what?” Hex winced, shrugging her off a little and turning further to see her– but then suddenly seizing the sheets and leaning hard to his left. “What the fuck, why am I dizzy?”

“I don’t know, hold on,” Rora jumped to her feet, trying to support him before he leaned too far and fell off.

“Girl, oh my god, quit mumbling and help me, would you?” Hector was beginning to sound a bit frantic, continuing to fall sideways despite trying to right himself. “Holy shit, why do I feel weird? What’s wrong with gravity?”

“Goddammit, Hex, hold still!” Rora was crouching next to him to keep him away from the floor, trying to push him back onto the mattress even as he keeled over. “Sit up, will you?”

“No, you shut up!” Hector said, hurt creeping into his voice. “I already feel like I got hit by a fucking truck, don’t tell me to shut up!”

“I’m not– just– MAXI!” Rora yelled towards the door, trying to pull Hector back onto the mattress even as Hector winced.

“What fucking taxi?!” Hector moaned. “We’re inside, I know because the room keeps spinning!”

The sudden rushing of feet up two flights of stairs served as a soundtrack to the two dangerously teetering and un-teetering towards the edge of the bed, Rora trying to keep Hector still even as he was seemingly drawn towards the floor, mumbling in English and Spanish that he felt sick and wanted off the ride.

When the door flung itself open, Maxi was out of breath and in his embalming scrubs, with his mask, gloves, and face shield in a trail on the floor behind him. “Okay, I’m here, what’s happ–”

He paused, analyzing the strange pulling backwards and forwards of the other two. “Are you… throttlin’ him slowly?”

“Would you help me?!” Rora snapped, glaring at him. “He keeps falling over!”

“Okay, okay, one sec!” Maxi ran over to Hector’s other side, helping support him from there. “Like this?”

“Nope, no, don’t like it,” Hector shook his head, sounding miserable and making a sound like he was about to be sick. “Down, would like to get down please.”

“Buddy, you’re in bed,” Maxi said gently, keeping Hector’s shoulder propped against his chest. “Where else you wanna go?”

“Flat.” Hector fell forward some more, trying to get there himself. “I wanna be flat.”

“Oh, so he can hear you fine,” Rora grumbled.

“What?” Hector turned to look at her, then made another retching sound. “No, stop talking, make me stop moving first.”

“We’re not moving!” The twins said in unison, shooting each other a perplexed look from either side of their cousin.

“Well, somebody either make it stop, or give me the good drugs so I don’t care about it anymore!” Hector snapped.

After some quick geometry of moving bodies, and trying to find a direction that didn’t make him want to puke, Hector was laying flat on his bed with his head facing the left side of the mattress, one ear pressed against a hot water bottle that Maxi had run to fetch from the now only semi-haunted bathroom between their bedrooms.

The twins were seated on the floor on either side of his head, Rora holding an antique porcelain washbasin that was now entirely for being sick in, and Maxi flipping through his own phone with a slight frown.

“…Yeah, bud, I think he blew clear through your eardrum,” he said at last, looking back around at Hector. “But I might be able to get it to fix itself, if you can lay still for a few days.”

“Cool,” Hector mumbled, looking sick and annoyed at the same time. “Perfecto. Love that for me.”

“Could be worse,” Rora said, shooting Hector a dark look. “We thought you were dead for a hot minute there.”

“Girl, I thought I was dead. Abuelita thought I was dead, too, I was over there all of a sudden with the white light and shit and she was like ‘Mais la, child, it’s not your time, you!’” Hector said, in an oddly accurate impression of their Cajun grandmere despite his own accent. “God. Who the fuck drops a whole fucking lightning bolt on somebody?” he went on, frowning as he nuzzled his head further into the warm container before adopting an expression eerily close to Seth’s. “He’s all 'Ooh, look at me, I can summon the weather, I can prove all the conservative nutjobs right and act real smug about it with my stupid hair.’”

“He does have stupid hair,” Rora agreed, she and Maxi nodding.

“Too much product,” Maxi added, wrinkling his nose. “It looks like he’s keepin’ things in it. Like toothpicks, or mints, or spare change.”

At this, Rora snorted, elbowing her brother.

“I can’t believe I got my ass handed to me by a guy who still wears too much hair gel in 2025,” Hector groaned in frustration, lightly punching the mattress.

“No, that was pomade,” Maxi said, looking around. “Historically, it precedes gel by–”

“Don’t care,” Hector and Rora said in perfect unison, at which Maxi only rolled his eyes.

“Hey man, you’re the one who got your ass beat by a fuckin’ stage magician,” he pointed out, nudging the side of Hex’s head as gently as he could.

“Hijo de puta, you’re right,” Hector said, shaking his head as much as he could while Rora burst into a wild cackle. “I knew he had a weird vibe, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Ugh, fuck, that just makes it worse.”

“'For my next trick, I will hand this man his own ass by zapping him like a fucking bug,’” Rora said in an impression of their foe’s dulcet tones, which caused Maxi to burst into a manic giggle.

“You watch,” Maxi added, barely managing to get the words out. “He’s gonna be out there on the front lawn like 'Is this your card?’ before he slaps you with it.”

“Hey, fuck you both,” Hector said, with no real venom in it as the twins broke down laughing again. “He was just taking out the only real competition; at least he’s smart enough to do that.”

“Bitch, please, you wish,” Rora said, but also with no real conviction.

For a moment, the three of them sat in silence – Rora leaning her head on the mattress, Maxi staring up at the ceiling, Hex moving his head as best he could to lay equidistant between them without spiraling all over again.

“…So that’s a new problem, I guess,” Hex said quietly, breaking the silence after a long pause.

“Fuck 'im,” Maxi said, just as quiet. He kept his gaze on the ceiling, though some exhaustion was beginning to creep into the corners of his eyes. “People before us dealt with assholes like that back when.”

“Look at you, being all historical about it,” Rora said, lifting her head just enough to see her brother around her cousin. “Normally, you hate doing what anyone else did.”

“Yeah, well.” Maxi shrugged, then turned to look at his cousin and his sister. “We got enough goin’ on without some showboatin’ asshole comin’ in to make a mess. If we have precedent to put his ass on the backburner, I say we take it.”

Rora shrugged back, playing with a bit of Hector’s hair. “Fair.”

Maxi sighed, long and tired, before turning his eyes specifically to Hector between them. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“He’s not allowed to not be okay,” Rora mumbled, twirling the strand of hair around her finger now. “He knows that.”

Hector smirked at Maxi, shrugging. “You heard the lady.” He still winced even at the slight movement, resettling on the hot water bottle. “So, what else did that asshole do to me?”

“Not much, from what I can tell.” Maxi sighed, getting to his feet with a crack of his knees and his own wince.

“Old,” Hector said, pointing a finger at Maxi from where he lay.

“Old,” Rora agreed with a nod.

“Man, shut up, you’re older than me.” Maxi reached down, swatting Hector so gently it barely counted. He looked at Hector’s IV bags, sighing again. “I gotta change those out just to make sure you stay hydrated, maybe keep you on 'em another day or two. We’ll see how your ear’s doin’ after three.” He put his hands on his hips, looking around as though cataloguing what needed doing in the room… before looking down at Hector’s shirt. “You might look and see if you, like… have any marks or anything.”

“What, you didn’t look when you were taking my clothes off?” Hector joked, looking up at him.

“Your clothes were practically smolderin’, I was just tryin’ to make sure your ass wasn’t burnt to a crisp,” Maxi said with a frown.

Hector lay there a moment, thinking, before looking back to Maxi and hopefully opening his mouth to ask a question.

“Fuck, yes, fine, I’ll go put some bacon on,” Maxi sighed, turning and heading for the door. “I hate that I knew what you were thinkin’.”

“Ooh, good idea,” Rora said, sitting up to watch him leave. “I’m ravenous.”

Hector turned to look at her, slowly and carefully not to set himself off again. “What, you haven’t eaten?”

“No, dumbass,” Rora said, nudging him just as gently. “Someone had to sit here and make sure you were still breathing.”

“Oh, please,” Hector rolled his eyes – or tried to, before he realized it would be a bad idea. “I can handle a little lightning, I’m tougher than that.”

“Sure.” Rora rolled hers in return, laying her head back down next to his on the edge of the mattress. “Just don’t make it a habit. I don’t need you lightin’ up like a Christmas tree whenever we get too close to magnets, or somethin’.”

Hector chuckled, wincing despite himself. “That is not at all how any of that works.”

“Shut up,” Rora mumbled, but grinned still. “You’re annoying enough with the powers you have, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, that’s totally what you meant.” Hector stuck his tongue out at her, then paused, laying there for a moment as he seemed to think something through.

“…Do you want me to check for you?” Rora asked, sounding almost bored by the idea.

“Just my shirt,” Hex said, frowning. “I don’t know how far I can tilt my head without feeling gross again.”

“Yeah, okay. Hold on.” Rora stood up, her own knees popping loudly. “Hush,” she said immediately, cutting off Hector’s smirk with a glare.

There was an awkward moment while she knelt on the bed next to him, rolling up the hem of his shirt to check his stomach while he stared at the ceiling –

…And then a pause, while she rolled it up further.

“What?” Hector said, his gaze immediately finding hers.

Rora sat there with her lips pursed. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Hector groaned, closing his eyes. “Is it gnarly?”

“No,” Rora said, snapping a photo with her phone.

She held it where Hector could see it comfortably, and for a moment, he stared, his eyes roving over the image.

“…Fuck,” he mumbled at last, his brow furrowed. “That looks sick as hell. Goddammit.”

“And the guy you got it from totally sucks,” Rora agreed, nodding. “Sorry, Hexie.”

“Fuck,” Hector repeated, staring at the ceiling again – only to look confused when he heard Rora’s phone make a 'sent message’ whooshing sound. “Wait, what’d you do with that–”

A second later, Rora received a text, and she checked it instantly. “'Unfortunately, it does in fact look sick as hell,’” she read in a monotone, then showed him the message itself.

Hector squinted at it, then sighed. “Maxi’s only saying that because now he’s not the only one with a scar.”

Rora received another message, and read aloud, “'And I’m not just saying that because I’m the only one with a chest scar.’” She looked down at Hector, shrugging. “Take that as you will.”

“Fuck.” Hector picked up his pillow, covering his face with it. “I fucking hate that fucking weather boy."

if you made it this far, I hope your next thunderstorm is an exceptionally pleasant one. <3

[jarofstyles]

Sugar, Sugar 12

Here they are, finally. With the smut <3 I know you've been asking about it so here she is!

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writings

Series masterlist

WC-5.4k

Warnings- body issues, past trauma, degradation, unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, y'all know the drillll.

----

Y/N felt like she was going to pass out. 

The room was dimly lit by one small lamp on the bedside table. The walls were painted a soft shade of blue, and the curtains were drawn closed, shutting out the world beyond. Y/N laid on the bed, fidgeting with the sheets, her heart racing with anticipation. She couldn't believe she was finally here, that this was finally happening after all the teasing and workup to this sort of thing. 

She had agonized over what to wear to bed, finally settling on an oversized tee shirt much more suited for her. It was a Queen tour tee shirt, a soft cream color and buttery smooth. One of her favorites to wear to sleep. Being bold, she had decided on no shorts and simply a pair of black lace panties. How long would they even stay on? She had no clue. Not if Harry had anything to do with it. All she knew was that she had been the most prepared she could be. Sneaking into his bathroom, she had spread coconut body lotion on her skin to get her as smooth as possible, taking her hair down from the half assed updo she had done, spritzing herself with body spray and brushing her teeth twice. Overkill, perhaps, but she wanted to be good. To be what he had been anticipating. 

Staring up at the ceiling. She fidgeted nervously, feeling a bit out of place in his room. Harry had ordered her to his room while he finished cleaning the kitchen, dangerously leaving her alone with her thoughts. As sexy as it was that the man could clean up after herself (And bare minimum), she knew that should could only last so long before she went crazy.

As she waited, she couldn't help but start to notice all the little details about his room. The closet door was closed, a tv hanging over one of his dressers that mirrored the end of the bed. A full size mirror stood in the corner- which she had covered with a blanket. She’d have to talk to him about mirrors and portaling later. He had a few pieces of art, some little sculptures, paintings on the walls of varying sizes to make a little gallery. What had surprised her was his basket of sunglasses on the previously mentioned dresser. Soft cream, it held an almost overflowing amount of sunglasses which had confused her. She had really only seen him wear 1 or 2 pairs of them. Maybe she could snoop later. There was still so much to know about him, so much to learn. All she craved was getting closer to him. Emotionally, mentally, physically. 

God, she was crawling out of her skin. She wanted his touch so badly that she knew that the moment he touched her tonight that she would be wet. They’d behaved for the most part, Y/N pretending to ignore Harry’s eye fucking because she was still hyping herself up. There was no turning back now. She let out a sigh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything. She and Harry had been dating for a while now, but she still felt like she was getting to know him. She wondered if he felt the same way. If he still felt like every time they hung out he was learning more and more about her. 

But even through the nerves, she wasn’t uncomfortable. She trusted Harry with her body, with her vulnerability. She looked forward to handing herself over to him for a bit, to enjoy his hands and lips and get to know how he was as a lover. Was he a biter? He had been vocal in the past but she had to hope that he would get dirty with her tonight. She needed it.

Just then, Harry walked back into the room, carrying two bottles of water. He grinned when he saw her sitting pretty in his bed, hair down now and changed. She was a fucking vision in his bed, surrounded by all things him. His pillows, laying on his sheet, the man couldn’t help that sensation of self satisfaction in his chest., Setting the water down on his nightstand before crawling onto the bed next to her. He hadn’t wanted her to have to get thirsty and not have anything to drink when she woke up or.. After activities.

He took a moment to look at her, watching her hands fiddle with the sheets as she looked up at him with rounded eyes, he could see the mixed emotions on her face- but it wasn’t necessarily fear. He wanted her to talk to him, tell him what was going on in that beautiful brain of hers. Sensing that she was probably needing a bit of soothing, Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Hey," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "What's going on in that mind?"

She hesitated for a moment before finally speaking up. "I’m just nervous, I think. I really want to do this, and have been thinking about it for a while. But sometimes those old nerves come creeping in and I get worried you won’t like what you see. I usually don’t feel this way, but when we peel back those layers and get to the real stuff, sometimes this sort of feeling leaks past. I’m sorry.” She peeped, looking down at her lap.

Harry looked at her with a soft expression, his eyes filled with understanding. "Hey, look at me.” His finger nudged her chin up, directing her eyes at him. “There she is. Sweet thing.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers chastely, starting slow. “I know it can be scary to open up and let someone in," he said. "But I want you to know that I feel the same way. S’fucking terrifying. When you care about  someone, sex means a hell of a lot more. But I need you to listen to this, even if you don’t fully grasp it yet.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes looking over hers, hoping they could convey just how serious he was.

“I adore what I see. I’ve been attracted to you since we met. I know people have probably said some fucked up things, made this sort of thing scary for you- and I wish I could beat the hell out of them. Wish I could take that away and make your experiences only positive, only let you feel as beautiful as you actually are. I know you know how gorgeous you are, that this sort of thing brings you back- from what you’ve told me anyways. But I need you to know that I have never felt more attracted to someone in my life. S’not going to change without your clothes on.”

His words made her heart swell with affection for him. Finally. This was what she deserved. Someone tender with her heart, who got it- or at the very least, attempted to get it. That’s what she had asked for. Harry had seemingly come out of nowhere, placed in her direct path because he would get it. He was meant for her. Her eyes stung a bit as she felt the words hit her fully. It felt so fucking good to know how much he genuinely cared. How he was attracted to her, how he wanted to help her rewrite those experiences.

What she wanted to say couldn’t be expressed very well verbally, so she kissed him instead. Placing her own hand on his neck and pulling him in, kissing him fully as she urged him closer to her as she started to lean back. It was a fiery kiss, one that he could feel down to his bones. She meant this kiss. It was hot and heated, making him moan into her mouth as her fingers tugged slightly on the hair she had found to urge him closer. He would never tire of that. 

“Thank you.” She whispered against his lips, fiddling with his hair as he adjusted. “I just want you. Want to do it. Can we?” 

Harry smiled against her mouth, his heart quickening in his chest. He hadn’t expected that sort of reply.  He had been fully prepared to take more time sweet talking her- but his mouth could be put to better use. “Anything you want.” He murmured to her. “Seems you’ve still got me wrapped under your spell. M’gonna be so good to you.” His lips puckered against hers, nudging their noses together before he sat up, pulling his shirt over his head. “We go as fast or as slow as you want. I’m jus’ feeling insane that I’ve even got you here.” Going back down to her mouth, he brushed his thumb against her plump bottom lip, slightly swollen from their kisses tonight. He wondered if it stung, if it was sensitive, but she answered that by wrapping said lips around the digit and sucking on the tip of it softly. Just a bit, her tongue brushing the underside as she gave him her softest eyes clouded with that hint of lust. Lust for him. 

“I like this.” His voice trilled. “Like that you’re so pretty with your lips wrapped around me in any way.” Pushing his thumb a bit further into her mouth, he watched her cheeks hollow as she took it deeper and let her teeth grace his knuckle before pulling ot back out. “Temptress, that’s what you are.” He took his wet thumb and smeared it over her lip, spreading her own saliva on it before catching her lips in a kiss. “Need t’get you naked.” 

This is what she had been worried about initially, but with his mouth on hers she felt a little floaty as his fingers gently tugged up her sleep shirt, only breaking their kiss when he had to tug it over her head. It was abundantly clear that he was looking when she heard his breath hitch, eyes glancing down at her bare breasts. Of course she wasn’t wearing a bra to sleep, Y/N would fight demons over underwires, but she knew she made the right call when Harry knelt down and began to kiss down her neck. 

“How are you so perfect?” He groaned, peppering kisses to her while motioning for her to lay back. Harry was taking his time to play with her, to observe, to worship. “Can I touch, Sugar? Let me see how soft you really are?” 

Her nod was slow, watching his face break out in a naughty grin before his hands traveled south. Despite how comfortable she was with Harry, it still made her tense a little as his hand fell to her waist. How it ran over her stomach, the one forbidden area she usually refused to be touched- but he did nothing but love on her. Letting his hands trace every curve, every dip and edge as his mouth moved further down to the hollow of her throat and bit down softly to make her whimper. 

“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Like one of those paintings, hm? Y’know what I’m talking about. So soft and lush, just want to bury my face in you.” He whispered, ignoring her necklaces as he moved to the swells of her breasts. They weren’t as perky as she’d like, but that apparently had no effect on Harry. He took them into his hands, audibly groaning as he kneaded them gently. He genuinely looked pained, and a peek down showed he was hard in his pants. “Christ. M’the luckiest fucking man. Look at you.” His voice coated in awe, he let his thumbs brush over her hardened nipples, exhaling shakily. 

He let his lips kiss over them, the expanse peppered in soft, slightly wet kisses leaving an imprint behind that glowed in the dim light before he went to the middle of her chest. “M’trying to take my time. Know I have all night… but you’re driving me crazy.” He croaked, letting one hand down down her stomach to the edge of her lace panties. It had been a pain in the ass to actually find comfortable lace in her size, but she would gladly go on the hunt for days to find more if it made him look at her like this. A spark went up her spine and a soft gasp left her throat as his thumb moved down, stroking her slit lightly. Cupping her mound, letting his thumb trace over the lace as she exhaled shakily, his lips closing around her nipple. 

A whine she hadn’t ever made before bleated through her lips, hands finding his hair as he flicked his tongue over the pebbled nipple and continued the movements over her most sensitive place. There was no hesitation, nothing she had feared had come true. No recoil, nothing but a positive, lustful gaze and words of praise leaving him. She could tell they were genuine, his excitement palpable in the room. 

“Wet for me.” He mumbled against her skin. “Got the panties wet, just sitting and waiting for me. Been dying for it just like me, hm?” He asked, smugness written on his face. “I’ve been tryin’ to pace myself.. Like you too much to rush, didn’t want to just jump into bed with you but… I’ve been dreaming about it.” Lowering himself further, Y/N made herself relax instead of tense like she had naturally inclined to doing. His lips brushed her stomach, the softness of it making him nuzzle against it before moving down. He knew she would be self conscious if he spent too much time there, but he wanted to help her get over that eventually- if she felt comfortable. He wanted to worship every inch of the woman, his modern goddess. 

“Me too.” She replied, watching with hazier eyes as he found himself snugly between her legs. The man spared no area, kissing her over the panties before moving to her thighs, the fullness making him moan. She continued talking as she felt his lips exploring. “I appreciate you wanting to take me seriously and do it right but- but I’ve been desperate for it.” It wasn’t a shameful thing to admit. Harry was beyond attractive and she had the sexiest boyfriend she’d ever seen, how could anyone blame her for being eager to fall into bed with him. “Not too much teasing, p-please.” Her words stuttered as she felt his teeth graze her thigh, making her shudder. They were still on the road to discovering what each other liked, but Y/N was impatient. She had waited far too long. 

“Oh, m’sorry, Sugar.” He murmured against her, digging his fingers into the waistband of her panties. “Just getting to know my girl. But let’s get down to it, hm? Didn’t mean to tease you.” His nimble fingers were quick to slide them off, aiding her in lifting her legs and tossing them to the side before letting out a whimper of the view. Y/N was beautiful in all areas, but this was his personal favorite at the moment. “Fuck me… You are everything.” He moaned, wasting little time before leaning in to let his tongue run up her slit. 

Her legs tensed for a moment, his arms hooking under her to hold them open in anticipation of this. She had done such a good job at sucking him the first time, and he knew he wasn’t going to ever leave her alone again. He had appreciation for all women, but Y/N was the prettiest he had ever seen. He was determined to get her soft and pliant, keep her puffy and sensitive for him before he slid his cock inside of her. Just a taste was good, but he wanted to. Greedy for her was becoming a new key trait of his. 

“Oh my god.” The girl moaned, feeling his tongue circle her clit. Looking down she could see his eyes, the hunger in them as he licked over her. It was new to her, seeing someone look almost… desperate to touch her. “Just like that, H.” Her praise seemed to make it even worse, nuzzling his face into her cunt with little care about the mess it would make on his face and testing out movements with his tongue. He was incredible, obviously, but Y/N had a bit more limited experience when it came to getting eaten out. She’d had it happen, sure, but there was something different about this time. Perhaps it was the trust, the feelings, but everything felt better. 

Harry was pleased, feeling how she relaxed for him and arched slightly into his face as her hands wound in his hair. Her heavier breathing fueled him, noting every reaction he could. Her thighs tried to close as he latched on to her swollen clit, sucking it lightly into his mouth with a wet sound that went straight to his cock, but he kept her still as he did so. He knew now that he would be spending plenty of time down here, learning exactly how to make her cum from just this alone- but he had to work her open a little bit. 

Pulling away from her clit, his face lifted and arm moved to slick his fingers against her cunt. “You’re happy, baby?” He crooned, not minding the slickness of his chin and mouth. He had no reservations about getting messy, and Y/N had expressed a like for it too, so when he crawled back up and her hands grabbed his face to kiss her, he wasn’t shocked. The response was just as hungry, sliding a finger inside of her and muting her squeak with his mouth as he suckled on her tongue. His cock rutted slightly against her thigh, groaning as he felt how truly tight she was. Soaked, but tight. 

“I need you inside.” She panted, eyebrows furrowed as her hand slid down to his cock. Waiting for his nod, she slipped it into his pants and watched in satisfaction as his face fell into one of pleasure as she wrapped her hand around the base of him, giving a few strokes. “Please? I know it’ll hurt but- but I like it.” She whispered up at him. “Make it hurt a little bit, H. Please, just get inside me.” 

“Condom- are we?” He knelt up on his knees as he shucked his pants down, eyes on her hand. She never stopped stroking him, only once to spit on her palm to make the glide that much easier. His head wasn’t on straight right now, worked up in the arousal he felt. 

“No- No, we’re okay. I want it like this. If we can.” Y/N didn’t want to pressure him into anything, but by the look on his face he was more than happy to do so. Harry was visible to read, she found, and i instances like this she absolutely loved it- but she really wanted him to fuck her. 

“Course, anything for you.” His fingers slid out from her cunt, brought to his mouth so he could greedily get another taste of her with the deep groan that made her pulse. Y/N was beginning to get desperate. How had she lasted this long without him? “How do you want me to take you, Sugar? Hm?” His eyes were blazing as they met hers. “Like this? On your knees?” He was giving options. 

“Knees.” Leaning up for one more kiss, she took it wetly before spinning around to get comfortable. This way felt so good, and she was comfortable like this- but she hadn’t expected the spank on her bare ass. The startled squeak was accompanied by his warm hand soothing the sting, making her lean into it further. 

“God… this ass.” He moaned, holding it in his hands. Harry was obsessed with every part of her, but there was no denying he was an ass man. He’d secretly praised whatever god was out there that she had chosen this way. This position was what he’d been jerking off to for weeks, and seeing her with her face laying on the pillow, hands on the sheets and ass in the air was ten times better than it was in his fantasies. “You are the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen. This is what I dream about.” He whispered, kneading it before fisting his cock. “Want to see it move when I fuck you. Perfect fucking girl.” 

Y/N let out a garbled moan as she felt the tip of his cock run over her soaked slit, finding her entrance. The first push made her tense slightly before his hand ran down her back, soothing her. He was big. Big enough for it to sting slightly as he began to push in, making them both let out noises. It was like she could feel every bit of it. Never having forgone a condom before, it was a bit more intense than she had realized but god, was it worth it. He was being patient, slowly pushing in as she could feel him twitching against her, but it was worth it. 

“More.” She gasped. “More, H.” 

Harry was in awe of how good she was- how good she felt. Watching her cunt split open and take him, it was evident that she hadn’t been fucked in a long while, and shamefully he loved being the one to take her back. Hopefully the last cock to ever fill her, the only one she would crave, he’d tried to be gentle, but his sweet little Sugar wanted more. “More?” He laughed. “Tiny cunt can barely take this much. D’you think you can really handle more?” 

He was testing out limits, and if Y/N wasn’t already dripping? She’d be soaked all over again. “I can do it.” She whined, pushing back on to him. “Promise, I can take it. Give me more.” 

Doing as told, Harry began to push further into her. A deep groan left his mouth as he watched her swallow him up, slipping himself inside of her tight channel. It wasn’t the easiest, resisting slightly, but he could feel how wet she was getting.  “How’s it feel, Sugar?” He asked softly, holding on to her hip as he got the last bit in. Fully submerged in her, she was dripping on him. “Hm? Talk t’me.”

“Full.” The girl choked out, grabbing the sheets until her knuckles paled. “Stings, but- I love it.” Did she ever. This was the fullest she had ever been, his cock thick and long and perfect for her as he stayed seated fully in her for a few moments before she began to rock on him. “Fuck me. Don’t be gentle, please. I can- I can take anything you give me.” 

Harry would still be careful, but he trusted her. If she wanted to be fucked? He was going to deliver. Slowly pulling out a few inches, he slammed back in to make her yelp. He did it again. And again, listening to her noises as he started to find a rhythm. It was a hot, wet heaven sucking him in and he was loving every moment of it. 

Y/N was reacting just how he liked. Whimpering and pushing back on to him, moaning for him as he brought his hand down on her ass again and watched the skin ripple as it hit. His obsession with her ass was only being fueled as he watched it hit his groin. This was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. 

He continued, watching as his girl tugged at the sheets and whined for him, fueling his ego as he began to fuck into her harder. It only seemed to satisfy her more. It was the most free he had felt during sex in his life. Not worried about hurting her too much as he saw what she preferred, he pounded into her as he held her hips tightly. Surely there would be bruises on her after this, but part of him relished in that. Marks made by him on the perfect woman underneath him, marking her as freshly fucked and fully his. 

Y/N felt like she was being fucked stupid. Like each thrust was making her focus only on how to get this to never end, how she wanted him to stay humping her forever. He wasn’t holding back and fuck, did it feel good. Harry was strong, thorough and so deep she swore if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was in her stomach. “You’re giving it… so good.” She slurred, eyes watering slightly as his hand wrapped around her hair and tugged. A whine left her as she was forced up, scrambling to use her hands as he fucked into her sopping cunt like it belonged to him. “Hit me again- please.” She begged as his hand in her hair made her arch her back. 

The man chuckled in disbelief, bringing his free hand down against her ass again, and again. Watching as the spot moved and her ass rippled from the force of his thrusts. The moans coming from her felt too good to be true, but as he pulled her up and had her on her knees, he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped an arm around her own, his other hand turning her head so he could kiss her. Albeit sloppy at this angle, Y/N was feeling like she was in a dream as he cooed against her cheek. 

“So fucking wet for me, you’re dripping. Naughty girl. Like it when I rough you up a little, hm?” A yank of her hair made her mewl, doing her best to nod. “Was going to go nice and slow, make love t’you… but you had to tell me to fuck the gentleness. Had to make me fuck you like a little whore.”  The slight degradation made her cry out, clutching the arm bracing her to his chest as she searched out his lips- but he wasn’t done talking. “Knew you were dirty… But getting off on this? Being called a whore, being fucked bare and on your knees? Never knew my sweet little Sugar had it in her.” He released her hair to collar her throat, his strong hand wrapping firmly around her neck as he jostled her with his thrusts. 

“My sweet girl didn’t want soft. No… You wanted the fucking only I could give you, Yeah? All the rest couldn’t fuck you right, but you knew that I could.” His lips dragged against her ear, making her shiver. “And that’s why you’re letting me keep you. Cause I love this beautiful body, wany every single inch to crave my touch. M’gonna train you to want me everywhere. Your neck, your cunt, your stomach, your thighs… You’re going t’feel every bit of beautiful as you are.” His voice was darker, rougher, and it went straight to her cunt. Y/N swore she could cum just from that. 

“Yeah, yes, only you can fuck me like this.” She babbled back, knowing it was the truth- but she couldn’t wait until later one when she showed him it was the same for him. Only she would fuck him the way he wanted. She would take control at some point and show him that, but for now she was more than happy to let him take the lead. He did an incredible job. 

It felt like she was on fire, the tips of her nerves buzzing as he fucked into her over and over again. With whispered permission, he closed his fingers around the side of her neck in a practiced way, cutting off a bit of air and giving her the headrush she needed. “Gonna cum- I’m gonna cum, Harry.” She said frantically, voice slightly strained as the mix of his cock hitting the spot she needed, the words and his hand around her neck having her barrelling towards orgasm much faster than she had before. It was almost rare, before, to cum during penetrative sex, but he was getting her in that exact way she needed. 

“Go on, baby.” He encouraged. “Soak me, c’mon. Cum on my cock, my perfect little whore. Sweet little goddess… Show me how good you feel.” He continued the same pace, not wanting to change a thing so she could meet her end. It fueled him to know it was his doing as he watched her begin to fall over the edge. 

Y/N’s ears were ringing as she came, all she could focus on was the pleasure. White hot, spilling from her belly to her clit, all the way to her eyes as they watered. The most pathetic little scream was given as she began to tremble in his arms, nails digging into the one holding her up as her cunt fluttered around him. Her breathing caught in her throat, even as he released the grip and simply held her he worked her through it, but it was difficult to stop. She began to go limp, unable to keep herself up. 

Harry was right at the edge, feeling that orgasm- but he was gentle as he lowered her down, body following after her as he chased her orgasm. Now weighted on top of her, he used one hand to make sure he didn’t crush her while the other stayed on her throat while he buried his face into her neck, grunting as he felt his orgasm crest. It hit him like a train, his own pathetic whine leaving his chest as he shuddered on top of her, sloppy final thrusts pushing him over the edge. A moan of her name left his swollen lips into her neck as the first ribbon of cum spilled into her, stalling as his balls began to pulse and the thickened load of cum began to fill her up. 

It was more intense than either of them had felt before. Both felt stinging in their eyes, a need to stay close, and want to hold on- so they did. Recovering slowly, Harry stayed buried in her cunt as he pressed kissed silently to her cheek and neck as his cock gave its final twitches inside. Spent. It was unusually comfortable despite the stickiness between bodies, and when Y/N gathered the strength she lifted her head and whined softly for a kiss which the man happily gave. 

“You okay?” He asked softly after a few moments of quiet breathing and her body stayed under his. He was blown away, if he was honest, but he didn’t know how to verbalize it to her. 

“M’so good.” Y/N giggled, feeling his nose against hers as he smiled. “I don’t know what got into us, but I loved it.” The woman knew how rare good sex actually was at this point, especially for her, but Harry had almost read her mind. She’d directed a little, but he followed every cue her body had given. He’d taken control, was a little degrading but not too mean. She’d get him to be meaner later- or show him how mean she could be. 

“Me too.” He admitted, hissing as he adjusted in her. He was sensitive for now. “Gotta pull out in a minute. D’you want to take a shower?” His fingers were gentle as he removed them from her throat, moving the hair that was stuck to her face. “Need to make sure you’re all taken care of.”

It warmed her heart to know he cared. He actually gave a fuck if she was okay and knew what aftercare was. She’d gotten lucky. 

“Yeah. Just give me a minute.” She yawned, burying her head into the pillow. “My legs are like jell-o. You can be smug about it.” The permission was heavily earned. 

“Well, I will be. But I want you to be comfortable first.” He sighed. “I'll give us a minute but m”gonna have to change the bed.”  Harry didn’t want to assume anything of her for another round, but she answered that herself. 

“Don’t bother.” She mumbled. “You’re going to be back inside of me before we get out of bed tomorrow.”  Harry couldn’t argue with that. All he knew was, he had gotten a proper taste of Sugar- and he was an addict.

[svejarph]

sabina karlsson mini gif pack

CLICK THE READ MORE BELOW and you will find a total of #14 245x150px gifs of Sabina Karlsson as herself in Size Matters episode 3 (2015)! These were created from scratch by Sveja. Do what you want with these, just don't repost/claim as your own, don't use them to play Sabina as herself, use in smut/smut-based blogs, and like/reblog if using. If you like what I'm doing, feel free to commission me, donate to my kofi, or donate to a Palestinian organization/buy an e-sim. Sabina was around 27 during filming and is Gambian and white (Swedish).

tw: flashing lights, shaky camera

[cafetempsrpg]

Izzy Nicholls x10

-Fc Féminin ; Anglaise ; 1997

[medusa-rpg]

✨ilianna ayala garcia✨

[thaywrites]

SPOOKTOBER PACKS: FREE CONTENT—on the SOURCE LINK, you will find #150 gifs of the actress GABOUREY SIDIBE in AMERICAN HORROR STORIES !! all of these gifs were made by me from scratch so please don’t repost them and claim as your own & make sure to check out my guidelines before using my content. please LIKE/REBLOG if you find this helpful & consider BUYING ME A COFFEE ( THAYWRITES ) linked on my theme or COMMISSIONING A GIF PACK from me. ♡ you can access the full gif pack through the payhip link, along with a rar download file, or through my directory.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: kissing, emotional distress.

[ariesfelis]

irena drezi

profil avacrea

[morvantmortuary]

no mistakes, know the stakes --

(Hector Morvant-Casares x non-binary plus size Reader, 18+)

summary: You're just trying to enjoy a chill afternoon when your smitten kind-of-stalker, Hector, once again shows up to annoy you. Things get intense from there.

warnings: finger-fucking (enby receiving), semi-public sex, brief fluids ingestion, intimate photos taken without prior consent, Hex is being a total stalker and a bit of a creep, but reader just makes fun of him. implied ghost hand involved in the sex (it makes sense in context).

reader notes: reader is plus size, queer, and non-binary. pet names Hex uses are femme-ish but I tried to stay fairly neutral. skin and hair mentions are also left as neutral as possible, suggestions to tweak that appreciated (as are any corrections to Hex's Spanish, I'm still working on that). no use of y/n, as always.

general: writing about HVAC-Hector on my fanfic blog has had me going through my Hector's stuff, especially wanting to give the older a revamp to match up more with how I hear him now than when I was still trying to figure him out. this was originally posted in 2021 as a request by my buddy Sam @pondering-and-wondering (hi! <3), and since it was Hex's first solo run, I wanted to give it an update, an edit, and some love.

thanks for humoring me <3

It was October, sure, but this was Louisiana — it was still warm enough for you to walk around outside in your favorite sleeveless top and some cute shorts today, as you wandered through the weekend open air market in the historic part of town. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, really… between the decent-for-once weather and just being antsy to get out of your house, it seemed like as good an excuse as any to feel the sun on your skin. You were taking your time at every stall, meandering between the rows to see everything from local honey to hand-crocheted blankets. Just the kind of cute, homey things you’d expect to see in a place as small as this one.

You’d probably been there about an hour or so, chatting with some of the friendlier old ladies who’d parked lawn chairs outside the small salon on the corner to watch the goings on, then sampling from the couple food trucks that had driven out here from one of the closer cities as it got closer to noon, before you realized that even as you moved alone through this crowd of people, you weren’t exactly… alone.

The first time you heard the camera shutter, you’d written it off as something else - someone taking a photo of one of the vendors for the little local paper, or maybe someone with their phone’s sound still on (for some godforsaken reason).

It was when it happened the second time, when you’d moved stalls entirely, that you realized the sound was moving with you. It was close enough that if they weren’t taking photos of you, they were taking photos of something very near you. But following you for this long, and just happening to take photos of things that were always just in your periphery?

Unlikely.

Experimentally, you moved away from the stalls entirely, walking towards the mostly empty plastic tables and metal chairs the organizers had set out at the end of the main thoroughfare for visitors to linger, maybe chow down on something from the aforementioned food trucks. There was no one there, currently, but it was still plenty public - which would be helpful, if it was who you thought it was.

You loitered there, taking your phone out of your bag and pretending to scroll through it idly while you tested your theory. It took just long enough that you wondered if maybe you had been being paranoid - not that you could really blame yourself - and maybe it really was just some intern or volunteer taking photos for some neighborhood newsletter or some such.

But then you heard the click a third time, and you rolled your eyes. “Hi, Hector.”

You turned in the direction of a fourth shutter sound, looking around just in time to catch him still watching you through the lens of his camera. He wasn’t far away - if anything, just far enough that he looked like he was taking photos of a willing subject. Which was what he was counting on people thinking, of course.

When he at last let the camera down, revealing those stunningly dark eyes of his, the fluttering feeling in your chest reminded you that you weren’t exactly an unwilling subject, either.

“Qué tal, querida” Hector smiled, something that always reminded you somehow of a fox - subtle, and clever, like he was laughing at a joke he hadn’t let you in on yet. He walked over slowly, flipping through the photos he’d just taken with an almost bored expression. “You look pretty today.” He met your eyes when he was standing only a couple feet away from you, just barely enough distance to be respectful. He himself was just in his typical jeans and a faded dark t-shirt, his customary black hoodie tied at his waist in this warm Fall weather. “But don’t you always.” It wasn’t a question. Not from him.

You felt a smile threaten at the corner of your mouth, but you did your best to bite it back. Hector was handsome - he knew that, with those gorgeous eyes of his and those cheekbones. But he was so fucking cocky with you, it drove you a little bit insane. From the moment you’d first stumbled across him downtown one afternoon, staring into the empty windows of some abandoned storefront, he’d turned his brooding gaze to you and acted like the two of you hooking up was inevitable. Not like he was rude  or boorish about it… no, he was always unfailingly sweet to you, in his own way. It was just that he acted like he knew something you didn’t, or had some certainty in his back pocket. Which wasn’t to say you hadn’t thought about hooking up, either - christ, look at him - but there was a deeper part of you that felt the need to challenge that assumption first. You needed to prove to him that you weren’t something to be taken for granted, and couldn’t be won over just by him always being around. 

And god, was he always around - you swore you couldn’t go anywhere lately without him turning up to chat with you at least once, just like this.

“You really have nothing better to do than follow me everywhere, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, teasing him while still keeping your face casual.

Hector shrugged, aloof as always. “There’s only so much here worth photographing,” he said. “Not my fault you’re the best view.” He gave you what was very definitely a once over before meeting your eyes, as if returning your challenge.

“How kind of you to grace the rest of us with your presence.” You tilted your head to the side, taking him in yourself. “Must be hard to be a photographer when you get most of your shots by sneaking up on people.”

Hector’s smile returned, like he definitely knew something you didn’t. “If I asked you to model for me, you’d just say no.” He tilted his head in return, mocking your gesture with a faux pout. “And I don’t think I could handle you turning me down, beautiful.”

You felt your face heat just slightly, but did your best to keep your expression in check. Shit, that was smooth. “It’s a poor artist that can’t take rejection, you know.”

Hector took another step closer to you, and you had to resist the urge to step back, determined not to let on exactly how your knees felt like jelly right now. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I get rejected all the time,” he said, something… darker to his smile now. “It’s just a fact of life when you do what I do. But,” his tone grew softer as you two were basically face to face. “It just hurts so much more when it comes from your muse, y’know?”

You studied him for a long moment, your brain scrambling in the wake of that, holy shit. His smile widened, like he knew you couldn’t parry that with just a quip, and you decided to take a different tactic entirely. 

You shifted your bag strap on your shoulder, tilting your chin up at him defiantly. “You don’t know for sure what I’d say if you asked.”

Hector blinked, and you inwardly crowed at the flicker in his confident facade. “No?”

“You can’t.” You shrugged like this was obvious. “Because you’ve never bothered, have you? You just… assume.” You finally let yourself smirk. “And I thought you were all about exploring beyond the surface, with your work.” You wet your lower lip, definitely playing with him a little bit now. “Oh well.” 

You moved to brush past him, catching just a trace of the heady scent he wore - something that always reminded you of something cold, almost spectral.

The sensation was so distracting that, for a moment, you missed when he carefully took you by the wrist — only noticing it when he gently tugged you back to him, pulling you so you were once again face to face and even closer than before.

He didn’t say anything right away, and you didn’t try to move, transfixed by the definite tension you could feel pass between the pair of you. You had to fight the urge to brush some of the longer strands of his dark hair away from his eyes as he looked down at your wrist caged delicately in his fingers, studying it like it was something rare and beautiful. At last, his eyes met yours again, looking up at you through lashes that were so gorgeous it honestly wasn’t fair. 

“…Would you say yes?” Even in the midst of the bright day around you, something about the way his tone hushed felt like you’d suddenly stepped into shadow. His eyes searched your face, and your originally flippant answer suddenly died on your tongue in the wake of his odd intensity.

“…Ask me for real - like you’re not taking anything for granted,” you said, inwardly quite proud of yourself for managing not to stutter as you met his eyes. “And I’ll genuinely think about it.” 

You couldn’t quite read his expression as you carefully pulled your wrist from his grip, but didn’t stop your hand from brushing his as you walked off. “I’ll see you around, Hector.”

You didn’t hear him protest as you walked away, and for a while, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, wondering if you’d left him speechless for once. That would be a first - especially because it felt like he made you feel tongue-tied so often. You relished the idea of those endlessly dark eyes going slightly wide, maybe that permanent smirk of his displaced into something a little less self-assured. In fact, it gave you such a strong feeling of satisfaction that you let yourself turn, looking over your shoulder to see if he was still staring at you — and stumbling slightly when you realized he wasn’t there. 

You looked back down the row of stalls as best you could, wondering where he could’ve gotten to so quickly… before rolling your eyes again, and just continuing on your way.

“Whatever,” you muttered to yourself, You adjusted your bag strap on your shoulder as you took a back street towards the block where you’d parked your car. Time would tell if he would try again - you imagined he would, given how persistent he’d been since he met you. He didn’t seem like the type to give up easily. Although now that you’d given him a taste of his own ‘coy and mysterious’ act, you wondered if he’d think about changing his tactics —

You didn’t notice him until he was practically right on top of you, emerging from an alley on your right to pull you into its shade with him. You let out a small noise of surprise as he pushed you back against a wall, but gently enough that you didn’t scrape yourself on the bricks or bump your head.

Before you even had time to process that, his mouth was barely a centimeter from yours.

You didn’t protest - you had wondered if this would happen, to be honest. You’d just imagined it under different circumstances. You met his gaze as he watched you closely, seeing if you would pull away or object. Instead, you found yourself glancing quickly from his nebulous eyes to his mouth and back again, unable to help a smug smile of your own. “So that worked, huh?”

Hector took your face in his hands, his thumbs delicately tracing your cheeks… before he kissed you with such ferocity, you would have gasped if you had any breath left. Between the rasp of his beard on your skin and his tongue in your mouth, you quickly found yourself feeling overwhelmed by him, like he’d been waiting to do this for ages and was taking it all out on you now. Not that you disliked it, though..

And you definitely didn’t dislike it when he shoved his knee between your thighs, pushing you back into the wall and suddenly moving his hands to your hips with a surprising amount of force.

You shivered, laughing  as you nipped playfully at his lip - only to have it turn into a soft moan as he exerted just the barest amount of pressure between your legs to fully pin you against the wall. His mouth fell to the column of your neck, pressing soft kisses down the side as one hand moved to carefully, slowly undo your shorts.

“Yes or no, amor?” He tilted his head to look at you, that know-something smirk back in place. His voice was dark in a way you hadn’t heard before, that made your toes curl inside your shoes.

“Yes,” you whispered, your hands moving to grasp his biceps under the thin t-shirt he was wearing. 

He laughed under his breath. Carefully, lasciviously, he passed his tongue over two of his fingers while keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

You had to bite down hard on your lip as his slid them past the waistband of your shorts and your underwear. When his fingertips circling your clit . They did this long enough for your breath to start catching in your chest before dipping lower experimentally, teasing at your entrance before sliding inside you enough to make you clench around him.

“Me fascinas, tesoro.” He grinned, his face only a fraction away from yours as he began to fuck you slowly. “You’re so pretty, you know that? You’ve been so resistant with me up until now.” A twist of his fingers made you whine softly, your head falling back against the wall. “But you’re sweet when you let yourself open up like this.” 

His grin turned somewhat darker as his thumb found your clit, and you whined. He pressed his cheek against yours to whisper in your ear. “I had no idea my muse was such a little whore, though. But I love it. It’s so… unexpected.” He leaned down, licking a hot stripe up the side of your neck. “I wonder what else you’ll surprise me with when you’re mine.”

This little declaration went straight to the white hot center of you, and you felt yourself clenching hard around his fingers, your nails digging into his skin just the same.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he whispered, pressing his nose to your cheek. “Are you gonna let me see how perfect you look when you do, up close?”

That last addition registered somewhere in the part of your brain that wasn’t in the midst of hazy bliss - what did he mean ‘up close’? When had he seen you otherwise? But another stroke of the rough pad of his thumb obliterated that thought entirely, and you nodded, trying your best to muffle the moan that threatened to leave you.

“C’mon, beautiful ,” Hector whispered, and you felt a hand - a surprisingly cold one, through the fabric of your shorts - grip your other hip hard, where previously his hand that had been there had been warm. “Show me that gorgeous face of yours, yeah?”

His fingers twisted against a spot that made everything inside you feel like it was aflame, and your mouth fell open as your head fell further back, not caring anymore if your strangled cry attracted any unwanted attention.

In the midst of coming undone, through your fluttering eyelashes as you shook against Hector’s thigh, you made out something that wasn’t his face. It took you a minute to realize he was taking photos of you through your orgasm on his phone, watching you with an intensity that would’ve set your cheeks on fire if the phone hadn’t already. You felt yourself tightening around his fingers even more than before, realizing that as embarrassed as you were - you liked this.

“Preciosa,” Hector said under his breath, looking between the shots on his phone and back to you with an appreciative, almost hungry gaze. “I knew you’d be exquisite.” He slid his phone back in his pocket, leaning forward to kiss you deeply as he pulled his fingers from inside you. “And I knew I’d get you eventually,” he added with a smug whisper, pulling back so you could see as he licked your slick from his fingers.

Part of you was slightly confused in your post-high haze - if he’d been fucking you one hand, and the other had been holding his phone… you frowned for just a moment, going to look down at your hip where a cold hand had held you in place, but Hector took your chin in his hand and kissed you hard again, this time so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

When at last he pulled away (after refastening your shorts, to his credit), he stuffed his hands in his pockets, watching you keenly as you tried to straighten yourself out. “Next time we’ll do things properly, I promise: dinner, dancing, whatever my muse wants,” he said quietly. When you met his eyes again, feeling slightly shy now despite this encounter, he winked at you. “I just had to see what you’d actually say, first.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, your brain again trying to find something to fire back with, but Hector just laughed. 

“See you later, corazón.” And without another word, he turned, heading back down the alley where he’d come from - probably to grab his camera, which you’d noticed was mysteriously missing. As he walked, you saw him pull his phone out of his pocket again, and you could swear you saw him swiping through his photos with what looked like a smirk.

You lingered against the wall for a bit, waiting for your knees to re-solidify and your cheeks to stop burning before you were confident enough to walk the rest of the way to the car. You didn’t see anybody as you went, but something about that little encounter had left you feeling… different. In fact, instead of hoping nobody could see it on you, with every step you found yourself hoping that somebody would - that you’d run into someone, randomly, and they’d be struck immediately by your brazenness. You felt powerful, truly gorgeous even. You couldn’t stop smirking to yourself as you half-walked, half strutted the rest of the way there.

When you found your car in its lonely spot, you also found something waiting for you beneath your windshield wiper - a polaroid, of all things, of some beautiful white roses. You gazed at them, both delighted and transfixed, before turning it over, looking for anything you’d recognize to tell you who it was from.

On the back in looping, messy handwriting was a note:

Dinner Friday, at 7? I know a place. Text me.

- H

At the bottom was written his number, and you blinked, looking around. There’s no way he could’ve gotten over here fast enough to leave this. Not without you seeing him. If anything, you realized, he would’ve had to leave this earlier. Maybe even before he came and found you to begin with.

You felt your cheeks blaze with heat again, and even before you got all the way into your car, you were pulling out your phone.

[Fine. But you’re buying after that.]>

You smiled to yourself as you started your car and drove off. Okay. So maybe saying yes hadn’t been the worst thing in the world.

man, remember when I used to be able to write fics of a reasonable length?

anyway! if you've read this far, I hope you get to have a fun weekend outing yourself ;)

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Flower Party

Thanks LoD for the amazing party once again <3

[damnedance]

ngl i LOVE my joanna, tywin and genna young fcs

[cheftsunoda]

Hello! Loved your stories omg! Esp the charles and alex one, Can I request the both of them and reader where the reader is a Medical Intern in Monaco and charles and alex both just happen to be in the hospital that she is interning and they just get so infatuated with her and they come back to the hospital for just some “daily check ups” and bonus if they are together already can you do a part where they are looking for her and the find her in the back part of the ER where there are spare beds there and shes just taking a quick power nap from a long shift hehe Thank you! ❤️

apple a day, keeps the doctor…— cl16 + alexandra

charles leclerc x !medical intern reader x alexandra saint mleux

smau + blurbs

working ER nights in monaco wasn’t glamorous—at least not for you. between back to back trauma cases, endless rounds, and the coffee machine that hated you, most days blurred into one long, sterile headache. that is, until charles leclerc and alexandra saint mleux burst through the emergency room doors one chaotic friday night, arthur leclerc half-conscious between them and bleeding from a nasty head wound. you stitched him up with calm hands and clipped sarcasm, barely registering the way both charles and alexandra were staring at you like you had performed a miracle. since then, they’d returned to the hospital three times in two weeks. once for a “headache that might be a concussion” (arthur was fine), once for “follow-up questions,” and once just to drop off a smoothie “in case you skipped lunch.” every visit came with a new excuse and a new gift — almond croissants, candles, a ferrari hoodie that “just happened to be your size.” you weren’t stupid. you knew what they were doing. but it was getting harder to pretend you didn’t like it. harder to pretend you didn’t want more. from both of them.

fc : random pinterest girlies

(a/n) : hiiiii love. cute idea. i love writing chalex x reader smmmm

POLY FIC TO CELEBRATE MY BIG NEWS YAYYYYY!

—

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 2,503 others.

yourusername : photos that make me look like ive been getting sleep (i have not) but i worked 87 hours last week :,)

—

view 52 other comments.

yourbff : BAD BITCH. period. (tell them to give you some time off) (i feel neglected)

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : girl you’re gonna have to tell them. they don’t gaf what i say🤧

liked by yourbff

↳ yourbff : on my way! plus i want to meet the mystery man and woman 😁

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ yourusername : shhhhhh don’t embarrass meeee

liked by yourbff and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ yourbff : no but seriously. on my way with coffee and emotional support :)

liked by yourusername

↳ youruserame : life saverrrrrr

↳ yourbff : nah babe. that’s quite literally you.

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

yourbrother : since when are you a ferrari fan?

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : since when do you care?

↳ yourbrother : just wondering. get some sleep ugly. you need it

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : smd bitch !

liked by yourbff

username00 : alexandra in the likes?? the ferrari hoodie?? who is this girl??

↳ username1 : she is a doctor in monaco. probably just a friend of alexandra’s.

alexandrasaintmleux : and somehow you still look incredible beautiful 😍

liked by yourusername and yourbff

↳ youruserame : alexxxx you’re making me blush 🤭

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username0000 : oooooooooo

—

flashback

It starts, like most Friday nights, with chaos. The double doors of the ER slam open behind you and you don’t even bother looking up at first. You’re too busy writing up notes on a dislocated shoulder when someone shouts—

“Excuse me! We need help!”

You sigh, closing your hospital issued laptop, and turn — only to freeze for a split second.

Because that’s Charles Leclerc. As in F1 Charles Leclerc. And he’s holding up a man who’s bleeding from the forehead. Behind him, Alexandra is hovering, visibly panicked and muttering something about a yacht.

“I need a name,” you say, stepping forward and already slipping on gloves.

“Arthur Leclerc,” the patient mutters. “Twenty four. Libra. Single.”

You blink. “Right. Head injury and questionable flirting. Got it.”

“I fell,” Arthur adds dramatically, clutching his head like he’s auditioning for Hamlet.

“I was pushed,” he corrects himself quickly, nodding toward Charles with betrayal in his eyes. “By him. On the yacht.”

“There was a wave!” Charles groans. “You lost your balance.”

“You shoved me.”

“I nudged you.”

“You launched me!”

You sigh again, pointing to the exam table. “If you can argue, you can sit. Let’s patch up the bleeding before we diagnose your childhood trauma.”

Arthur grins at you as he hops onto the table. “Do you usually fix people up with that kind of sarcasm, or am I just special?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m an intern. I don’t get paid enough to flirt. But if you don’t pass out, I’ll consider it a compliment.”

Alexandra snorts behind you, clearly trying not to laugh. “I like her.”

You gently guide Arthur’s head to the side, inspecting the gash. It’s deep but manageable. “You’re going to need a few stitches. Any nausea? Blurry vision?”

“Only from looking directly at you,” Arthur says, smirking.

You glance at Charles, who looks like he’s about to explode. “Arthur.”

“What?” Arthur says innocently. “She’s hot and she’s touching my face. I’m not made of stone.”

Charles gives you a sheepish smile. “I swear he’s not usually this—”

“Delusional?” you offer.

“Flirty.”

“Trauma does funny things to people,” you murmur as you begin cleaning the wound.

“You seem very calm,” Alexandra pipes up, stepping closer. “Is it always this chaotic?”

“Only when people fall off yachts,” you mutter, trying not to smile.

You feel Charles watching you. Like, really watching you. And not just because you’re stitching up his brother’s forehead.

“You’re good at this,” he says, almost surprised.

You glance up. “Thanks. I’ve had a lot of practice with dumbass adrenaline junkies.”

“You’ll fit in well with this family, then,” Alexandra says lightly, and then blinks, as if realizing what she just said. “I mean—not that—just—”

Arthur groans. “She meant that flirtatiously. God, we’re all embarrassing ourselves.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you finish the last stitch. “You’re fine. And he’s good as new. Well… scarred. But charming.”

“Scarred and charming,” Arthur echoes. “Put that on my resume.”

As you peel off your gloves and hand Arthur the aftercare instructions, you catch all three of them watching you like you’d just rewritten medical science instead of stitched up a forehead. It’s the kind of look that makes your skin feel warm under your scrubs.

“You shouldn’t have much of a scar,” you say, casually. “I learned from the best plastic surgeon we’ve got. Lucky you.”

Arthur gives you a lopsided smile, but it’s Charles who speaks next, stepping forward and offering his hand. “Thank you, Dr…?”

“LN,” you reply, shaking his hand. “Dr. YN LN.”

His grip is firm, but it’s the way his fingers linger just a second too long that makes your heart stutter.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor,” he says, his voice a little lower. “Hopefully next time we see you, no one’s bleeding.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Alexandra beats you to it, smiling softly. “Yeah… I wouldn’t mind a next time either. Preferably injury free. Maybe over coffee instead of stitches.”

She laughs lightly, cheeks pink, and you’re not sure if it’s the ER lighting or if they’re both actually flirting with you.

—

present day

You’re halfway through a chart on a broken wrist when you hear them before you see them.

“I told you I’m fine!”

Arthur’s voice, unmistakably dramatic, echoes through the ER as he stomps toward the front desk, trailed by Monaco’s most glamorous couple—Charles and Alexandra—looking suspiciously guilty and carrying far too many things for a medical emergency.

You glance up, immediately clocking the massive bouquet of flowers in Charles’ hand and the takeaway coffee Alexandra’s holding like a peace offering.

“I swear to God,” Arthur mutters as he catches sight of you, “I said I had a mild headache, and these two dragged me here like I’d lost a limb.”

“Headaches can be a sign of a concussion,” Alexandra says sweetly. “We just wanted to be safe.”

“Also, we brought you a coffee,” Charles adds, smiling at you like he wasn’t obviously using his brother’s brain as an excuse to see you again.

You blink. “Right. So we’re doing this again.”

Arthur drops into the same exam chair from last time with a long suffering sigh. “Apparently, I don’t have autonomy anymore.”

“You said the lights were bothering you,” Alexandra says, gesturing vaguely. “That’s a symptom!”

“I was hungover!”

You try to keep your professional face on. Really, you do. But when Charles hands you the coffee—your name spelled perfectly on the lid—and Alexandra presents the bouquet like a proud contestant on The Bachelor, you lose the battle against your smile.

“Well, at least if this is a concussion, he’ll go down smelling like peonies,” you mutter, already pulling on gloves.

Arthur glares at both of them. “If I so much as sneeze tomorrow, they’ll probably drag me in again and claim it’s internal bleeding.”

You flash him a grin. “I wouldn’t complain too much. If every headache gets you this much attention, you might want to fake one next week.”

“Oh don’t give them ideas,” Arthur groans, flopping his head back as you start the quick neurological check.

Meanwhile, Charles leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that same quiet intensity.

“So…” he says casually. “When you’re not busy diagnosing non concussions, do you ever take time off?”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that your version of small talk or a poorly disguised date proposal?”

Alexandra perks up beside him. “Could be both.”

You chuckle, making a note in Arthur’s file. “He’s fine. No concussion. Just… tragically dramatic.”

Arthur sits up, victorious. “Thank you. Finally. A sane voice in this situation.”

You hand him a lollipop from your coat pocket. “For being so brave.”

As the three of them start to leave, Charles turns back one last time, walking backwards with a grin.

“We’ll try not to bother you again.”

But you know he’s lying. And part of you kind of hopes he is.

—

You spot them the second they walk through the ER doors. No Arthur this time.

Just Charles and Alexandra, holding nothing but matching sunglasses and the world’s most transparent expressions.

You don’t even look up from the computer when you say, “What fake medical emergency are we pretending exists today?”

Charles smirks. “Technically, we were in the area.”

Alexandra adds, “And we thought we might check in. Just to say hi. Totally casual.”

You give them a flat look. “Right. Monaco’s smallest hospital and this hallway, of all places. How convenient.”

Charles shrugs. “We’re predictable. What can we say?”

You finish typing your note and finally stand. “Okay, well, since you’re here and not bleeding, vomiting, or concussed, you can make yourselves useful.”

They blink. You pull off your coat, glance at the wall clock, and tuck your badge into your pocket. “I’m on break.”

Alexandra’s eyes light up. “Wait. Right now?”

You grab your phone. “There’s a café down the street that makes a solid espresso and doesn’t play music loud enough to rupture eardrums. I was going to go solo, but since you two seem committed to making ER visits part of your weekly schedule…”

Charles stares for a beat before a slow grin spreads across his face. “Are you asking us out, Dr. LN?”

You smirk. “Consider it a professional mercy date. To stop you from dragging your brother back in here every time he sneezes.”

Alexandra laughs as you all walk out together. “We’ll take it.”

The three of you squeeze into a little table near the window, half-shadowed, half-exposed to the soft afternoon sun. You sip your coffee and try to ignore the way Charles keeps subtly leaning closer every time you talk, or how Alexandra watches you like she already knows what you’re going to say next.

“So,” Charles says, stirring his espresso. “If this were a date, how would we be doing?”

You smirk. “Well, you haven’t lied about a fake medical condition yet, so that’s a strong start.”

Alexandra leans in, chin propped on her palm. “And what if we wanted this to be an actual date?”

Your eyes flick between them. They’re both looking at you — seriously now, not just playfully. There’s a warmth there. Something real.

You pause, setting your cup down.

“Well,” you say slowly, “then I’d say I’m free this weekend. And this time, no one gets to show up bleeding.”

Charles raises his cup in a mock toast. “We’ll do our best.”

Alexandra grins. “No promises.”

—

You don’t know what to expect when Charles texts you the address. It’s vague — Don’t worry, it’s not a restaurant. Something a bit better. And he sends a winky face, which does nothing to calm the nervous flutter building in your chest.

You’re not the type to get nervous. You deal with emergencies for a living. You’ve held hearts in your hands—literally. But somehow, a night with Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux is what sends your pulse into orbit.

The building isn’t flashy. Just a quiet, pale stone apartment on a side street with a narrow elevator that creaks slightly as it takes you up. You almost think you’ve gone to the wrong place—until the doors open. The rooftop is glowing.

String lights are draped between beams, twinkling softly above a table set for three. A few scattered candles flicker in glass jars, and beyond the low railings, Monaco stretches out in a blanket of golden lights and ocean shadows. And then you see them.

Charles is in a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands stuffed in his pockets like he’s not sure what to do with them. Alexandra, in a silky rust-colored dress that catches the light every time she moves, is already smiling at you like she’s been waiting to all day.

“You came,” Charles says, stepping forward. His smile is soft and just a little unsure.

You nod, taking it all in. “Didn’t realize this was a rooftop Michelin experience.”

Alexandra laughs, looping her arm through yours gently to guide you toward the table. “We figured after the trauma bay lighting, you deserved something a bit softer.”

Charles pulls out your chair with a sheepish shrug. “We cooked.”

“Oh god,” you say, raising a brow. “Do I need to call poison control now or later?”

He laughs, cheeks pink. “Excuse you. Alexandra cooked. I poured the wine and stirred things dramatically.”

“You did,” Alexandra confirms. “He was very proud of his stirring.”

Dinner is warm and easy — some kind of creamy pasta, a salad that Alexandra made you promise to be brutally honest about (you weren’t, it was fine), and a bottle of white wine that Charles says he picked because the label looked “mysterious and vaguely romantic.”

But the real thing is this- the way they look at you. They both do it differently.

Charles listens when you speak like he’s memorizing you—eyes fixed on your mouth, your hands, the soft curve of your smile. He’s still charming and funny, but with a quiet reverence that sneaks into the space between every joke.

Alexandra is gentler—touching your wrist when you laugh too hard at one of Charles’ stories, watching your expression like she already knows it. Like she wants to know it all.

You’re not sure how it happens, exactly. But somewhere between dessert and a second bottle of wine, the conversation softens. Charles is the one who says it first.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know.”

You blink. “Because I make Arthur stop talking for five minutes at a time?”

“Because you… just are,” he says. His voice isn’t flirtatious now. Just honest.

Alexandra nods, her fingers brushing yours across the table. “We didn’t expect to meet someone like you. But we’re really glad we did.”

You look between them—two people who are already so close, so comfortable in each other’s orbit. And yet here they are, making room for you.

Your heart stumbles a little.

You set your glass down. “This is probably the part where I say I don’t usually do this.”

“But you are,” Charles says softly.

You nod. “Yeah. I am.”

There’s a pause—brief but thick with possibility—before Alexandra stands and steps closer to you, her expression open, asking rather than assuming.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

You exhale, chest fluttering.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It’d be really okay.”

Her lips are warm and soft and unhurried, and when Charles leans in after—gentle, reverent, a hand on your cheek like you’re fragile and important all at once—it feels like falling.

But this time, you want to fall.

—

You wake up before the sun. There’s a soft tangle of limbs wrapped around you — Alexandra’s arm draped over your waist, Charles’ breath warm against the back of your neck. The rooftop date turned into hours of conversation, shared kisses, stargazing, and eventually… here. In the quiet safety of Charles’ bed. Like it was always meant to happen.

But duty calls, and unfortunately, duty doesn’t care that your body is warm and relaxed between two people who might just ruin you in the best possible way. You carefully slip out of bed, trying not to wake either of them. You pad barefoot through the apartment, grabbing your bag and sliding a post it from the kitchen drawer.

You scribble quickly.

Had to run — early shift. Thank you for last night. It was perfect. There’s coffee in the pot (strong — sorry). I’ll probably still be buried in the ER when you wake up. Don’t miss me too much. — YN <3

You leave it next to the two mugs you prepared, one with too much sugar and one with just a splash of oat milk. The sunlight is just starting to spill over the buildings as you slip out the door.

—

It’s nearing 9 PM when Charles and Alexandra step into the ER.

They’re dressed down — Charles in a hoodie and cap, Alexandra in a soft cardigan and sneakers, both of them clutching takeaway bags filled with real food, not vending machine coffee and graham crackers.

The hospital is quieter now, but the fluorescent lights still buzz, and nurses are moving quickly between rooms. Alexandra spots the nurse at the desk and steps forward.

“Excuse me,” she says kindly. “We’re looking for Dr. LN?”

The nurse squints. “She’s still on shift? Poor thing. She hasn’t left the floor all day.”

Charles frowns. “Do you know where she is?”

The nurse nods and gestures toward an empty exam room down the hall. “Think she crashed in there between consults. Didn’t even get lunch.”

They walk quietly through the corridor until they reach the room. The door’s ajar, and what they find inside makes both of them melt on the spot.

You’re curled up on the small sofa, still in scrubs, arms folded across your chest, one shoe dangling off your foot. Your head is tilted back against the armrest, a pen still tucked behind your ear. There’s a half eaten protein bar on the table beside you and a chart open in your lap.

Alexandra covers her mouth to stop a soft laugh. “God, she looks exhausted.”

Charles smiles and walks over, carefully setting the takeaway bag on the table. “Should we wake her?”

“No,” Alexandra says gently, walking over to crouch beside you. “Just let her rest a second.”

You stir slightly when her fingers brush a strand of hair from your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, disoriented for a moment—until you see them.

“Hey,” you rasp, blinking slowly. “What are you doing here?”

“You left us coffee,” Charles says, grinning. “Least we could do was bring dinner.”

Alexandra holds up the container. “Pasta. The good kind. Not hospital food.”

You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes. “You guys didn’t have to—”

“We wanted to,” Charles interrupts softly, sitting on the edge of the couch beside you. “You take care of everyone else all day. We just wanted to make sure someone’s taking care of you too.”

Your heart twists a little at that. It’s not grand. It’s not flowers or champagne or a view of the ocean. It’s better.

It’s them. Showing up.

You smile sleepily, leaning your head onto Charles’ shoulder as Alexandra nestles against your other side on the floor, wrapping her arms around your waist. It’s clumsy and imperfect in the tight space — but it’s warm. Safe.

“I missed you today,” you murmur.

Charles kisses the top of your head. “We missed you too.”

“Next time,” Alexandra whispers, her fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve, “call in sick. We’ll steal you away for the whole day.”

You chuckle. “Tempting. But I like this too.”

And for a while, you just sit there—three people in love, in a tiny hospital room that somehow feels like the safest place in the world.

—

alexandrasaintmleux added to her story!

seen by yourusername, yourbff, arthur_leclerc and 1,390,220 others.

arthur_leclerc : omg you guys LEAVE MY DOCTOR ALONE.

↳ alexandrasaintmleux: she is our doctor now ;)

↳ arthur_leclerc : sick sick people. tell her to cure you.

yourbff : my poor sleepy baby🤧🤧 take care of her for me

↳ alexandrasaintmleux : on it 😎

—

f1fan324

525,090 likes.

f1fan324 : does anyone know who this girl is?? she has been seen around monaco with charles, alexandra and arthur. she was in the paddock last week with alexandra, had lunch with charles and some of his team and then was seen with arthur at a club the other night.

—

view 53,110 other comments.

username00 : okay but she’s literally everywhere and no one knows her??

username0 : the fact that she’s been seen with all three… are we talking bestie? sister? situationship? 👀

username1 : not to be dramatic but if charles and alexandra are sharing her i will scream and also maybe cry

username5 : she was in the Ferrari hospitality tent last week?? and charles was all 😍🫠 the entire time

username7 : i can’t even get a text back and she’s got the whole leclerc bloodline around her like planets to the sun 😭

f1gossipgirls : sources say she’s a doctor at a Monaco hospital. girl’s got brains and the Leclercs wrapped around her finger apparently.

—

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, franciscagomes and 1,110,003 others.

alexandrasaintmleux : 🍒🌸

—

view 152,007 other comments.

username000 : is that… charles’ car? 😭 who is driving charles’ car?????

username00 : i want to be the girl driving the Ferrari with the doctor degree and the Monaco love triangle THANKS

username0 : leo looks like he knows something and he’s not telling us 😤

username7 : the softest soft launch of all time i’m SCREAMING

charles_leclerc : driving my car like she owns it…she pretty much does. she can have it 🧎🏻‍♂️

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username00 : BUT WHOOOOOOOO

arthur_leclerc : leo has been obsessed with her. also tell her she owes me another rematch of mario kart.

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ charles_leclerc : give it upppppp YOU LOST.

f1gossipgirls : guys!! we found her. check @/yourusername’s most recent post.

—

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 75,209 others.

yourusername : convinced them to let me work 60 hours this week instead of 80 YAYYY

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

The sun is beginning its slow descent over Monaco, casting golden light across the terracotta rooftops and sparkling off the harbor. It’s quiet — or, well, as quiet as Monaco ever gets — and you’re walking side by side with Alexandra and Charles along a tucked away street that winds gently above the city.

Leo trots ahead, tail wagging like he owns the block, occasionally glancing back to make sure all three of you are still following. He’s wearing a ridiculous little red bandana Arthur gave him (“Ferrari’s real mascot,” he claimed), and every few steps someone stops to coo at him.

You’re holding the leash — mostly because Leo demanded it, and by “demanded,” you mean he sat in front of you until you gave in. Charles is on your right, his fingers linked with yours, lazily swinging your hands between you. Alexandra’s on your left, brushing shoulders with you every time the sidewalk narrows, holding an iced coffee in one hand and gently tugging on the sleeve of your hoodie with the other.

“You realize Leo likes you more than he likes either of us, right?” Alexandra says suddenly, giving you a pointed look.

You shrug, smiling down at the pup. “He has good taste.”

Charles laughs. “You say that like he didn’t chew a hole through my Sparco gloves last week.”

“He was making a statement,” you tease. “They were ugly.”

Alexandra snorts into her drink and bumps your hip playfully. “You’re bold now that you’ve got joint custody.”

You raise a brow. “Joint custody?”

Charles nods solemnly. “We’ve talked. If anything happens to us, Leo’s going with you.”

“Wow. I feel so honored,” you say, deadpan. “And deeply concerned about your relationship stability.”

Alexandra just grins. “We’re very stable. Especially now that you’re around.”

Your heart stutters a little. It’s always like that with them — warmth in the small things. A hand held too long. A glance that says stay. A casual sentence that carries a little too much weight.

You turn a corner and find yourself at one of your favorite viewpoints — the city laid out below like a painting, water shimmering in the distance, the sky streaked in peach and lavender. Leo plops down on the edge of the stone wall, satisfied, like he planned this route himself.

Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. Alexandra steps in front of you, her free hand coming up to trace lazy circles on your wrist where the leash loops.

It’s quiet for a moment. Just the three of you — no press, no cameras, no chaos. Just sunlight, softness, and a dog with royal energy.

“This is nice,” you murmur.

Charles hums. “You’re nice.”

Alexandra smirks. “Charles is bad at compliments. What he means is… we really like you, and Leo would probably be crushed if you ever left.”

You smile, turning to kiss Charles’s cheek, then Alexandra’s. “Good thing I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Leo barks once, like he’s sealing the deal.

—

You’re standing beside Charles’ Ferrari, keys in your hand, sunglasses perched on your nose, trying not to let your nerves show — but Charles is watching you like he already knows how this is going to go.

“Sure you’re ready for this, Doctor LN?” he teases, leaning casually against the passenger door, arms crossed and a stupidly proud grin on his face.

You flash him a look over the top of your sunglasses. “I’ve done emergency surgery on someone’s spleen in a moving ambulance. I think I can handle a car.”

“Right, but this isn’t just any car,” he says dramatically. “This is my car.”

“Oh, you mean the one you nearly rear-ended a scooter with last month?”

Alexandra, sitting in the backseat with Leo curled in her lap, laughs so hard she nearly spills her coffee.

Charles holds a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “Unbelievable betrayal.”

You roll your eyes and slide into the driver’s seat. It’s sleek and powerful and smells like leather and faint hints of Charles’ cologne. Your fingers curl easily around the wheel, and when you start the engine, the soft purr feels like an invitation.

You glance at him. “You coming, or should I just drive it home myself?”

He groans dramatically and climbs in. “God help me.”

The second you pull away from the curb, you know. The engine hums like it’s made for you. The car doesn’t fight you — it flows with you, smooth and sharp and obedient beneath your hands. You navigate Monaco’s winding roads with perfect control, shifting effortlessly, gliding through turns with a little smirk tugging at your lips.

Charles glances over after a few minutes, eyebrows raised. “You’ve done this before.”

You shrug casually. “First time in a Ferrari. But I am a quick learner.”

“She’s a menace,” Alexandra mutters from the back, not even looking up from her phone. “A hot, terrifying menace.”

“I’m in love,” Charles says, completely deadpan, staring at you like you’ve just reinvented gravity.

You glance at him and grin. “With me or the way I take corners?”

“Both,” he replies without hesitation.

You pull off onto a scenic overlook just outside the city — one of those places Charles showed you once, high above the cliffs, the ocean stretching endlessly below. You kill the engine and turn to him, smug.

“So? Do I get a medal or what?”

Charles just shakes his head, smiling so big it’s ridiculous. “You get something better.”

Then he leans across the center console and kisses you — slow, soft, smiling against your lips like he doesn’t know what to do with how much he adores you.

Alexandra clears her throat loudly. “Um, some of us are trapped in the back with a dog who’s judging you.”

You both laugh, pulling apart, and Charles turns to her. “Fine. You get to drive next.”

“Don’t tease me,” she says. “You know I want to take it on the motorway.”

You settle back into the seat, heart still thumping, hands relaxed on the wheel, and glance between the two of them — one smirking, the other texting Arthur something undoubtedly chaotic.

—

“Okay, just to confirm,” you say as you smooth your shirt in the mirror, “we’re going to a casual lunch. Not a royal wedding. Not a medical board review. Just… brunch.”

“Yes,” Charles replies, deadpan from the kitchen, “a casual lunch with my mother, who only raised four children, survived raising Arthur, and could single handedly ruin my self esteem with a single look. But yes. Very casual.”

Alexandra peeks into the bedroom with a wide grin. “She already loves you, you know.”

“You think she loves me,” you mutter, grabbing your sunglasses. “She doesn’t even know me.”

Charles walks up behind you and rests his hands on your shoulders. “She knows everything that matters. You make us happy. That’s all she cares about.”

You sigh. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go meet your terrifyingly elegant mother and pretend I didn’t spend the last twenty minutes rehearsing how to say ‘It’s lovely to meet you’ in French.”

Alexandra loops her arm through yours. “You’re going to charm her so hard she’ll forget we even exist.”

Pascale Leclerc is already seated when you arrive — a vision in white linen, dark sunglasses, and the calm authority of a woman who has seen everything and still manages to be the most graceful person in any room. She stands when she sees Charles and Alexandra — but her gaze goes straight to you.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” she says warmly, pulling you in for cheek kisses before you can even say hello. “So this is the doctor I’ve been hearing about.”

You blink. “You… have?”

Pascale hums. “Constantly. My son is not a subtle man.”

Charles looks vaguely betrayed. Alexandra looks delighted.

“And my Alexandra,” Pascale continues, pulling her into a hug as well.

Pascale sits, already reaching for the wine list. “I need to know everything.”

You’re still recovering when Arthur barrels into the table, ten minutes late, hair a mess, sunglasses crooked, looking like he rolled straight out of bed and into chaos.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, dropping into the seat beside you. “You wouldn’t believe the night I had.”

“Please,” Pascale mutters without looking up, “spare us all the trauma.”

Arthur grins and leans closer to you. “She’s kidding. She loves when I overshare.”

“I do not.”

“You do. You live for it.”

“Arthur.”

Charles groans. Alexandra sips her wine. You just smile — because somehow, this feels like home.

“Anyway,” Arthur says between bites of bread, “you know she stitched my head back together, right?”

You sigh. “It was not that dramatic.”

“I bled. There were gloves. I was brave.”

“You flirted with me while I was gluing your scalp shut.”

Charles chokes on his water. Alexandra starts laughing so hard she has to put down her fork.

“Wait,” Pascale says, eyes narrowed with faux seriousness. “Arthur tried to seduce his future sister in law with a head wound?”

“Sister in law?” Charles repeats, coughing. “We’ve known each other for two months.”

“I’m manifesting,” Pascale says calmly. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

You’re too stunned to speak, but Alexandra just grins and whispers in your ear, “Told you she loves already.”

By the time the desserts arrive — lavender crème brûlée and espresso mousse — Pascale has made you promise to come over for dinner next week, Charles has nearly fallen out of his chair from laughing at Arthur’s retelling of his evening and Alexandra is holding your hand under the table like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Pascale looks around the table and smiles like she’s full — not just from the meal, but from watching all of you.

“This,” she says, “is my favorite kind of chaos.”

Arthur raises his glass. “To our new chaos coordinator.”

Everyone clinks their glasses — even you, even though you’re still slightly dazed by the fact that you’ve just been adopted by a family of charming lunatics.

Charles leans in while the others are distracted. His voice is quiet in your ear.

“You were our missing piece.”

You glance around the table — at Alexandra tucking her hair behind her ear as she laughs with Pascale, at Arthur trying to sneak more sugar into his espresso, at the soft way Charles looks at you like he already knows this is just the beginning. And you believe him.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,110,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Charles Leclerc was spotted kissing and cuddling Dr. YN LN on his yacht this afternoon — Alexandra was not present, currently in Italy for a brand trip. The two looked very comfortable and fans are spiraling over what this means… is it drama? is it cheating? or a soft launch of something more?

—

The sea is calm, the sun golden and warm, and Charles is stretched out across one of the cushioned loungers, hair still wet from a dip in the water, salt-kissed and lazy with happiness.

You’re curled up beside him, in his arms, tracing slow shapes on his chest as the waves rock the yacht gently. He smells like sunscreen and ocean air. You’re still in your red bikini, your cover-up tossed somewhere, sunglasses long forgotten as you nuzzle into the space under his chin.

Charles hums quietly, his fingers in your hair. “You falling asleep again, ma belle?”

“Maybe,” you mumble, lips brushing his collarbone. “Blame the ocean. And you. You’re too warm.”

“You like me warm,” he says smugly.

You smile and tap his ribs lightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re perfect,” he counters, leaning in to kiss your forehead. Then your cheek. Then the tip of your nose. “And I am incredibly lucky.”

“You’re incredibly dramatic.”

“Dramatic and in love,” he says, now grinning. “You should try it.”

You giggle and lean in to kiss him — slow, soft, sweet. One of those kisses that says this is home.

You don’t know how long you lie there like that, wrapped up in sun and each other, Leo snoring under the table in the shade, the crew respectfully ignoring your cuddlefest from the other end of the deck.

Eventually, the sun begins to dip and you both reluctantly get up, pack your things, and head back to shore.

—

You’re still glowing from the day when you walk through the door, tossing your bag onto the couch and heading to the kitchen while Charles grabs his phone off the counter.

He pauses.

“Um… bébé?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s… been a post.”

Your stomach drops.

“What kind of post?”

Charles turns his phone so you can see it. A fan account with a photo of the two of you lying on the yacht. It’s blurry, taken from a distance, but unmistakable- you curled into him, his hand in your hair, your lips almost touching. Your heart starts to pound.

“Oh my god.”

Charles immediately moves toward you. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you say, voice shaking. “It looks like you’re cheating on Alex. She’s not even here and they’re acting like I’m—” You cut yourself off, eyes stinging. “This could blow up so fast.”

Charles gently cups your face, thumb brushing under your eye. “Breathe, YN. Just breathe for me.”

You try. He’s close, his eyes calm, grounding you.

“She knows,” he says softly. “Alex knows where I am. She knows I’m with you. She loves you.”

“I just… I don’t want people to think we’re hiding something ugly. This isn’t ugly. It’s—”

“Beautiful,” he finishes for you. “It’s love. It’s all love. And we’ll figure it out together, okay? But first, we call her.”

You nod shakily, and he kisses your forehead before dialing.

Alex picks up almost immediately, barefaced and lounging on a hotel balcony, a glass of wine in her hand.

“Hey, lovers.”

Charles snorts. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

Alexandra takes a dramatic sip of her wine. “Oh, I saw it. I was in the middle of a product shoot and the makeup artist gasped. I thought someone had died. Turns out my boyfriend and my girlfriend just soft-launched without me.”

Your eyes go wide. “Alex— I’m so sorry. We didn’t think—”

“Stop,” she interrupts, eyes kind. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re allowed to love each other. I love that you love each other. I just wish I’d been there.”

Charles smiles. “I told you she was perfect.”

Alexandra shrugs with a small smile. “We’ll post something. All three of us. Together. Make it clear we’re not hiding, we’re just… ours.”

You blink, emotional again — but this time, it’s soft. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m more than okay,” she says. “I miss you both. And I can’t wait to come home.”

Charles grins. “When are you back?”

“Tomorrow. And then we’re spending the weekend on the yacht again. This time with me in the middle.”

“Deal,” you say, smiling for real now.

Alexandra leans into the camera. “And next time you soft-launch anything, I’m picking the bikini.”

You and Charles both laugh.

—

Later, you’re curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of Charles’ hoodies, Leo asleep at your feet. Charles brings you a mug of tea and sits beside you, tucking your legs over his lap.

“Still worried?” he asks gently.

You shake your head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Because you’re stuck with us now.”

You smile into your tea, heart finally settled.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 7,890,009 others.

charles_leclerc : she stitched arthur up after a fall and alex and i could not resist. oops.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

[httpsserene]

love your workkkkkkkk 🤍

can i request a smau with carlos or lance and a plus size reader?

haute couture — 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 carlos sainz jr x fem!black!reader (fc: precious lee) requested! smau. fluff. plussize!reader. reader is a model. light profanity. attempt at humor. body positive. one negative comment about reader’s body. couples vacation. loverboy carlos sainz jr. 

synopsis: from photo shoots to spontaneous vacation changes; carlos loves you loudly.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. in honor of carlos signing for...*checks notes* williams!!! currently sobbing about logan as i am a fellow florida born but, i will make sure to support him whether or not he's on the grid next year, or in indycar, or anywhere else < 3.

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

twitter • ynmodels

igstory • ynmodels uploaded!

[caption1; lighting check- felt cute might delete later][caption2; please stop threatening to get get me pregnant in my dms (i have a bf)]

carlossainz55: you could have been cute with me in melbourne ⤷ynmodels: i'll let you explain me ghosting my cover shoot to the magazine ⤷carlossainz55: is the love of your life missing you AND his appendix not a good excuse

user1: how many of my kids r u willing to have? ⤷user1: im serious btw haha

user2: bbg 🫦 lemme knock you up (i'm a girl)

user3: shhhhhh don't pretend like you don't want to have 8 kids with me 🤫 ⤷ynmodels: 8 KIDS??? you're blocked LMFAO

instagram • ynmodels • march 25th

liked by carlossainz55, harpersbazaarus, zendaya, and 93,562 others

ynmodels never thought i would be angry about having a cover shoot, but when it means i miss my boyfriend's third race win? i'm enraged‼️so, so, so proud of you, carlos! wish i was there to see you up on that top step! (thank you to harper's bazaar for putting me on the front page 💖)

tagged: harpersbazaarus, dolcegabbana, carlossainz55

view comments

carlossainz55: vamossssssssssssssss mami

➥ ynmodels: ¡VAMOS! 😍😍😍😍😍

carlossainz55: hermosa 🥰

liked by ynmodels

carlossainz55: i'm ordering multiples of this magazine

➥ user4: spectacular, give me 14 of them right now 🤲🏻

user5: i'm no better than a man 😮‍💨

➥ user6: good googly moogly 👀

➥ user7: i dunno if im jealous of her or carlos tbh 😵‍💫

user8: MOTHER 😩

➥ ynmodels: 💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾💅🏾

user9: carlos gets his appendix removed, wins the australian gp, and then gets to go home to a fine ass woman

➥ user10: god may never say that he has favorites but there are signs smh 🤦🏿‍♀️

➥ user11: omm i hope he treats her like the queen she is 🥴

alexandrasaintmleux: don't ask me the color of ANYTHING

➥ charlesleclerc: bebe what are u talking about??? pink is clearly her color 🙄

➥ carlossainz55: the dress is black 😐 @/ynmodels block them.

twitter • ynmodels

instagram • carlossainz55 • runway ⚑

liked by fashionweek, charlesleclerc, lewishamilton, and 2,313,475 others

carlossainz55 off week is fashion week 🚶🏻‍♂️

tagged: ynmodels

view comments

user12: just fell to my knees in the middle of my lecture hall 🧎🏼‍♀️

➥ user13: completely understandable

➥ user14: slammed my head on a table in the middle of the library and got kicked out IJBOLLLLL

user15: are y'all looking for a third ???!!!

➥ carlossainz55: absolutely not 😂

lewishamilton: nice to see you guys off the track ✌🏾

➥ ynmodels: it was! can't wait for nyfw with you 🤗🤗

➥ user16: i know carlos curled up into the fetal position absolutely tweaking rn 💀

➥ user17: if lewis hamilton took my girl i wouldn't even be mad about it 🤷🏾‍♂️

user18: thicker than a bowl of oatmeal 🤤

➥ user19: double cheeked up on a thursday afternoon 😣

➥ user20: she has no business walking around like that

➥ user18: like i'm not going to salivate like a dog 🦮

user21: she's what the greek godddesses wished they looked like

➥ ynmodels: this is the best compliment about my body i've ever received 🥹

user22: i know carlos CANNOT handle allat 😂

➥ carlossainz55: i have two hands for a reason.

➥ ynmodels: i'm a healthy handful what can i say 😚

imessage • carlos -> yn

instagram • ynmodels • en vogue ���

liked by voguemagazine, carlossainz55, jeanpaulgaultier, and 1,994,320 others

ynmodels manifested this very achievement! so honored to be on the cover of vogue AND to do it wearing louis vuitton and chanel; only up from here < 333

tagged: voguemagazine, chanelofficial, louisvuitton

view comments

landonorris: VOGUEEEEEEE ⁉️⁉️

➥ ynmodels: VOGUEEEEEEE LANDOOOO

➥ landonorris: nobody has done it better 😌

➥ ynmodels: ate them for breakfast 😋

➥ user23: literally.

➥ landonorris: don't do too much now @/user23

➥ ynmodels: no bc i'm wondering who TF asked u @/user23

carlossainz55: mi amor, i think i'm crying ☹️

➥ ynmodels: don't cry because i'll cry

➥ carlossainz55: i'm weak my eyes are watering 🥹

➥ ynmodels: you absolutely softy STOP!!!

➥ ynmodels: you're gonna make me ruin my makeup 😣😖

franciscacgomes: OMFGGGGGGG 🤩

➥ ynmodels: i knowwwwwwww

➥ alexandrasaintmleux: 💛💛💛💛

➥ lilymhe: i'm getting this edition framed 💯

voguemagazine: same time next year?

➥ carlossainz55: YES !!!

➥ ynmodels: i'd be honored 😲

➥ user24: where's her vogue video on youtube? I NEED IT

chanelofficial: kiss marks on the cover already 💋

➥ louisvuitton: with hearts drawn on it too 💓

➥ ynmodels: thank you both so much 🫂🫂🫂

lewishamilton: 🫡

zendaya: passed out when i saw this! about time girllll 🥵

➥ ynmodels: yes ma'ammmmmm 😤

igstory • ynmodels uploaded!

[caption1; sorry girls, not giving these away :) a few presents from carlos][caption2; might let him hit tonight ngl]

user25: if he wanted to he would energy>>>>>

user26: shit tell him to save some flowers for the rest of us 😧 user26: where are you even going to put all of those??? ⤷ynmodels: i keep them around the house, and dry all the flowers to keep them! ⤷ynmodels: nobody's ever gotten me flowers before him so i cherish each and every petal 🤭

pierregasly: take that first photo down before kika sees it pls 🙏🏻 ⤷ynmodels: oh did you say ft kika as i open every bag? and smell every rose? i'd be happy too pierre 🙃

carlossainz55: it's really not enough to show how much i'm proud of you 🙂‍↔️ ⤷ynmodels: carlos please ⤷ynmodels: i don't need anything besides you

instagram • carlossainz55 • somewhere in greece ⚑

liked by marcmarquez93, landonorris, carlossainzofficial, and 2,277,921 others

carlossainz55 escapada tranquila

tagged: ynmodels

view comments

user27: if you don't sit down in that damn car 🤬

➥ ynmodels: carlos told me to stand! yell at him not me ✋🏾

➥ user28: oh so if carlos jumps off a bridge you would too?

➥ ynmodels: expeditiously 😤 i'd backflip off it too 🤸🏾‍♀️

user29: why do we only speak about carlos' gf when this is his post 🤨

➥ user30: “carlos’ gf” don’t be disrespectful. she has a name ☺️

➥ user31: cause she's barbie! and he's just ken 😇 hope that helps 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

landonorris: having fun carlos 😃

➥ carlossainz55: cabron please shut up

➥ landonorris: damn a man can't ask if his friend is having a nice time on vacation 😞

charlesleclerc: everything going to plan?

➥ ynmodels: there's a plan?

➥ user32: what plan???

➥ carlossainz55: my plan to take you to see dolphins, is what he's talking about 😅

➥ ynmodels: ooooooh wait let me plug in my camera battery!

➥ user32: i wanna see dolphins :(

maxverstappen: don't chicken out mate 😿

➥ oscarpiastri: i will never let you live that down 😈

➥ ynmodels: why are we bullying my boyfriend?

➥ carlossainz55: i have no idea what they're talking about

user33: first photo could pass as professional ngl

➥ ynmodels: i said the same thing!

➥ user34: carlos takes the best photos of her hand down

➥ user35: best photos of the best model 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

twitter • ynmodels

instagram • ynmodels • WE'RE GETTING MARRIED ⚑

liked by lilymhe, scuderiaferrari, charlesleclerc, and 1,483,294 others

ynmodels im cryiubg omg we're emgagedddd i didn't get to the bottom of shit I LOVE LOVE LPVE LOVE LVE LOVE LOVE YOU CARLOS SAINZ JR 💍💍💍💍💍

tagged: carlossainz55

comments on this post have been limited.

carlossainz55: te amo mas que nada en el mundo

➥ ynmodels: i can't believe this still

➥ carlossainz55: i'll remind you every day 🥰

landonorris: congratsss 🥹🥹🥹

louisvuitton: stunned! but not surprised 😌

fransicacgomes: oh my god! i knew something shifted!!!!

jeanpaulgaultier: please allow me to go wedding dress shopping with you 😅

➥ ynmodels: i was thinking abou asking you for a custom?

➥ jeanpaulgaultier: i really wanted to hear you ask first, we'll talk soon < 3

charlesleclerc: so happy for you both! almost strangled carlos when he told me that he lost the ring haha 😂

➥ ynmodels: he lost the ring????

➥ carlossainz55: i *misplaced* it for like three minutes and panicked ok

maxverstappen1: can't wait for the wedding 😻

alexandrasaintmleux: im screaminggggg 🤯🤯🤯

voguemagazine: 🥳🥳🥳

lewishamilton: about time carlos!!!

➥ carlossainz55: only took me three attempts 🥴

➥ ynmodels: three???

➥ carlossainz: you make me nervous 🫣

oscarpiastri: congrats!

zendaya: that ring looks HEAVYYYY 😮‍💨🥴

➥ ynmodels: oh you can't miss it baby 🥱👅

harpersbazaarus: oooooh happy for you babes💋💋💋

carlossainzofficial: welcome to the family, officially!

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[abeloth]

Character: Honoria Marable

Actress: Mia Threapleton

Show: The Buccaneers (2023)

[She was 23 here so great for her marriage to Daemon! She has dirty blonde hair, but has a round face and is beautiful. She could be considered thick of waist as well. Some of her clothes don’t work as Westerosi fashion, but close ups are great.]

Character: Hannah Dalton

Actress: Nicola Coughlan

Show: Harlots (2018)

[She was around 31 here so good for the start of the Dance. Her hair isn’t super blonde, but she does have a round face with small lips and a thick waist. Coughlan is also on Bridgerton now with darker hair that can be lighter in certain scenes.]

Character: Sivekar Hatun

Actress: Gümeç Alpay Aslan

Show: The Magnificent Century: Kosem (2017)

[She was around 33 here so good for the end of the Dance. She has golden hair, a round face, and is thick of waist in the show.]

Rhaenyra Targaryen - Fancasts

Age: 07 - 33

08 [Mother’s Death]

14 [Tourney]

17 [Marriage to Laenor]

23 [Marriage to Daemon]

32 - 33 [Civil War]

Appearance: She is beautiful with the Valyrian look and small lips. After her first 3 children she retained the weight from their pregnancies having a thick waist. She is dressed richly and is often wearing rings.

Character: Elizabeth Murray [Younger]

Actress: Cara Jenkins

Movie: Belle [2013]

[She was 8/9 during filming so good for Rhaenyra when her mother dies and she is declared heir to when her father marries Alicent. She is pretty with pale skin, blonde hair and small lips.She wears mid 18th century clothes ish.]

Character: Katherine Woodville

Actress: Elsa Houben

Show: The White Queen [2013]

[Unknown age, looks to be around 8 - 10 years old so good for when Rhaenyra is declared heir till her first half brother is born. She is pretty with fair skin, blonde hair and a small mouth. She unfortunately is only shown in one scene clearly. She wears a 15th century ish dress.]

Character: Violetta Giurgiu

Actress: Anamaria Vartolomei

Movie: My Little Princess [2011]

[She was 11 during the filming of this movie so good for a year before he sweet half sister was born. She is pretty with blonde hair, pale skin and small lips. She wears modern clothes that are still good for close ups.]

Character: White Queen [Younger]

Actress: Amelia Crouch

Movie: Alice Through the Looking Glass [2016]

[She was between the ages of 10 - 12 during the filming of this movie. So, good for when her half brother and sister were born. She has light blonde hair, has small lips and is pretty. She wears fantasy clothes.]

Character: Lucrecia Borgia

Actress: María Valverde

Movie: Los Borgia [2006]

[She was 18 - 19 during this movie so the right age for Rhaenyra when she’s married to Laenor. She’s pretty and has small lips and blonde hair that is a bit too golden. She unfortunately has brown eyes and is not “thick of waist”. She wears 15th century Italian ish clothes.]

Actress: Catherine Howard

Actress: Tamzin Merchant

Show: The Tudors [2007] [Season 3 & 4]

[She was 22 - 23 during this show so good for her during the start of her marriage to Daemon although she does have a love interest that more suits Harwin and is playing a character of an age with Rhaenyra when she was with Harwin. She’s pretty. She has lighter blonde but golden hair and small lips. Unfortunately she is quite skinny and not thick of waist. She wears Tudor ish clothes.]

Character: Queen Jadwiga of Poland

Actress: Dagmara Bryzek

Show: The Crown of the Kings [2018]

[She’s 22 - 25 during this show so a good age for Rhaenyra during her marriage to Daemon. Her hair is brown and obviously not correct for Rhaenyra but with some editing I do think this fancast could be really good. She has pale skin, a rounder face and small ish lips. She isn’t plus sized but she is “thick of waist” compared to the other actresses. She wears 14th century polish clothes.]

Character(s): Lucrecia Borgia & Constance Chatterly

Actress: Holliday Grainger

Show: The Borgias [2011]

Movie: Lady Chatterley’s Lover [2015]

[She was 22 - 25 during the show and was 26 - 27 in the movie so good for during her marriage to Daemon. She is blonde although a bit more golden than I imagined her hair and has relatively smaller lips. She has a rounder face in the movie but is unfortunately skinny in both. She wears 15th century Italian clothes in the show and in the movie she wears late 1920’s clothing.]

Character: Catherine the Great

Actress: Yuliya Snigir

Show: Catherine the Great [2015]

[Suggested by: ???]

[She was 31/32 during this movie to the right age for her at the start of the war. She wears a silver wig, has a round ish face and small lips but unfortunately isn’t really “thick of waist”. She wears 18th century clothes.]