Vice

My Hogwarts House book recs

Okay, ever since some of my favorite booktubers made posts like these many a year ago, I always wanted to make a book rec list like this because I still genuinely do like the Hogwarts Houses. Enjoy!

Gryffindor

Graceling by Kristen Cashore - she walked so these new fantasy girlies could run, fantasy kingdom with assassin main character, the original ya high fantasy killer girlboss imo

A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin - all of the sympathetic leads are classic heroes (dany, jon, arya), adventure and politics and battle and dragons, nuanced outlooks on honor

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah - ww2 novel, deals with the french resistance during the occupation, hit every spot in my cold black heart, emphasis on sisterhood and endurance

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - what is bravery if not a broke woman telling a rich man to get a grip, og strong female lead overcoming many challenges, criticisms of polite society

Hufflepuff

Crave by Tracy Wolff - big on found family, paranormal romance shenanigans in a boarding school, somewhat satire, unserious and just very wholesome, steeped in nostalgia uwu

All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir - unapologetically written to heal and explore trauma, cathartic, wholesome and pure relationships, emphasis on self-growth and overcoming abuse and pain

The Stationery Shop by Marjan Kamali - historical, about the value of relationships in war and hardship, themes of growth and acceptance and promises, beautiful story

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic - what happens when you let a bunch of mentally ill kids play a made up sport, angsty but feels like a big hug, contemporary fiction, just genius ok

Ravenclaw

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake - very slytherclaw, philosophy and physics as the basis, dark academia urban fantasy, character-driven, multiple POVs, morally grey academics

Babel by RF Kuang - this book has been likened to a history textbook, by a nerd girlie for the nerd girlies, linguistics and languages, super well-researched, condemns colonization

Disorientation by Elain Hsieh Chou - witty and sharp narration and dialogue, set in academia and deals with east asian literature, satire and black comedy, explores racial fetishization

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - only a ravenclaw could appreciation its complexity, so many literary references, stylistically immaculate, lots of room to debate its message and themes

Slytherin

Vicious by VE Schwab - perfect moral quandaries demonstrated here, everyone is morally dark grey, supervillains, very angsty and also profound at times, dark academia

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde - my man makes a deal with the devil for eternal youth and beauty, everyone here is morally dubious, murder and orgies and philosophy

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn - exhausted woman does what she needs to do, female rage book, does some interesting things with pov, justified evil, amy dunne is insane and it's great

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao - tired chinese woman does what she needs to do and kills men, very unhinged queen behavior, ambition and god complexes, pacific rim but in china

En Pointe

Oscar Piastri x ballerina!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s surprised to find ballet and racing are more similar than he’d first expected. He’s even more surprised at how hard he falls for you. (but really, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised about either.)

5.5k words

Warnings: some mentions of alcohol, references to the chaos of the 2024 brazil gp

we have all the “breaking in pointe shoes” videos on my tiktok feed to thank for this, plus the number of times cars pirouetted in Brazil. enjoy!

Oscar’s always thought his job took a lot of sacrifice and hard work. He moved away from home at a young age to chase it. He’s spent countless hours in the gym, training his muscles to cope with the g-forces of driving a race car. He’s bruised ribs, bruised knuckles, put himself through hell and back just to fight for podiums and wins. It’s demanding.

Then he met you.

He remembers the first time he ever saw you. He’d been in Monaco for a weekend, scouting out an apartment to move into and trying to get a feel for the city. Charles had found out, had given him a list of things to see and tickets to a couple experiences, including the Monte Carlo ballet on Saturday night. And Oscar had never been a big ballet guy, or a dance guy in general, but Charles had insisted if there was one thing he had to do it was this. So he went. Dressed up nice and sat in a theater seat and found himself entranced.

It had been everyone on stage, but especially you. The way you moved so effortlessly, with so much grace. The way you held yourself with such elegance and confidence. You’d taken his breath away, left him wide eyed with wonder like he had been years ago attending his first F1 race in Australia.

And then he’d met you, in the lobby. You were standing there, still in costume, smiling at children and thanking everyone for coming. It wasn’t like him to go up and say anything, but he’d just felt so drawn to you.

“I’m sure you get this a lot,” he’d said, as you smiled softly at him, a large bouquet in your arms, “but you’re incredible.”

He can still remember the sound of your laugh. The weight of your hand on his wrist as you thanked him. And then-

“Charles told me you were coming,” you’d said. He’d swallowed, nodded. “And that you might be moving here.”

He’d nodded again. “It’s a beautiful place.”

You’d nodded in agreement. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He’d gone back to his hotel and dreamed of spinning ballerinas. The next morning, he woke up and contacted his management team, and asked them to lease the apartment he’d looked at the day before. The one with the view of the sea from the kitchen. He’d followed you on Instagram, too, and tried not to get his hopes up when he realized you were already following him.

And then it had been the F1 season, and a move to Monaco in the middle of it, and an afterparty after Charles’ first home win, full of champagne and happy smiles and a country so proud of him. And Charles, cutting through the crowd, eyes sparkling, with you in tow. Oscar had figured out the two of you were friends in the months since his ballet visit.

“Someone’s been looking for you,” Charles said in a singsongy tone.

It had all sort of bloomed from there. Now when Oscar is back in Monaco, he spends half his time in a dance studio, surrounded by mirrors and classical music and you. He still loves watching you, just like he did that very first night. He gets to see a side of you that most of the people in the audience never will- undone. In a plain leotard, sometimes a skirt, sometimes thick warmup pants that make him giggle, trying and trying over and over again to get something right. He sees the bruises and hears about the strained muscles and does what he can to help you with them. He loans you hoodies to wear during warm ups at rehearsals, and he cooks you meals to make sure you’re getting enough fuel for all the work you put yourself through. And he loves every second of it.

In return, you spend your breaks from rehearsals watching free practices and qualis and sometimes even races. He’s gotten pictures sent to him of you stretching with his onboard camera view on your tablet in front of you. The distance makes his heart ache sometimes, but when he gets to spend time with you it’s like nothing has changed. His favorite nights in Monaco are the ones with you perched on his kitchen counter, the harbor in the background.

The summer’s nearly over when he realizes he’s falling in love.

He can’t help it. You’re kind and beautiful and funny. He’s not sure anyone would blame him. It’s just… You’re the first friend he’s made here, the first connection to this new city. He doesn’t want to lose you. And he’s gone so often, he thinks it might make things so much worse. To tell you he loves you and then have to leave every weekend, to never be around. He hates the thought of It. Besides, he reminds himself, you’re a ballerina. Far too talented for someone like him.

So he shoves the feelings down, and tries his best to be a good friend and never let on that he feels anything more.

…..

You’re there for the race in Hungary- Hungary, of all places. You’re there to sympathize about his broken ribs and tease him about how exactly he broke them. You’re technically there with Charles, with Ferrari, but nobody seems to notice when you sneak into McLaren’s garage with a paddock pass Oscar managed to get for you. You look good in papaya, he thinks, though you’ve told him you think quite the opposite. He gets it. You’re used to pastels and soft fabrics. The McLaren sweatshirt you’re wearing is bold and bright. But it’s got Oscar’s number across the back, and that makes him smile more than anything else.

The race weekend is busy, as always. He doesn’t see you much until after the race, until you’re standing there outside the McLaren motorhome. He’s still in his race suit, soaked in sweat and champagne and god knows what else. He’s bone tired, his ribs hurt, and he’s starving. But you’re standing there, and it all just melts away. He wonders if telling you you’re his lucky charm would be terribly cliche.

“Hi, race winner,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his upper arm. “Feel different?”

He snorts. “Nah. Not really.”

You frown slightly, eyeing his face like you’re sizing him up. “Hm. You don’t look different, either.”

“No?” He asks, raising a brow at you, a smirk threatening to slip across his lips.

You shake your head. “Guess it’s because you’ve always been a winner in my book.”

He feels his cheeks go red, and then he bursts into laughter. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” he says, between giggles.

You lean into him, your head bumping against his shoulder. “I meant it!”

The thing is, he thinks you really did. He holds those words in his heart while he pulls you in close for a hug, despite your complaining about the state of him, the champagne and sweat. He holds them even closer, later, while he eats McDonald’s and avoids looking at social media comments about gifted wins by getting beaten to a pulp in Monopoly by Alex. He ices his ribs on the plane and falls asleep still thinking about you.

…..

Summer break rolls around, and he gets three weeks to spend with you. Your rehearsals are starting to ramp up for the season, and he can tell it’s weighing on you. He thinks you understand him in a way nobody else can- the love and hate for your sport. The exhaustion mixed with the urge to do it all again the next day.

He sits on the couch with you, your head against his shoulder, ice packs resting on your ankles where they’re propped up on his coffee table. There’s a movie playing on the TV, one of your favorites, one you’d been appalled he’d never seen before. You’re in one of his hoodies, soft and warm and cozy.

“Casting starts next week,” you mention, offhand.

He nods. “Yeah. I saw the Instagram post.”

He doesn’t know how to tell you he checks your dance company’s page multiple times a day. He worries it would make him seem crazy. It’s just that when he’s away, he wants every glimpse of you he can get, even if it’s in the background of a rehearsal video. And it’s become such a habit that he does it even on the days where he gets to see you in person.

He clears his throat. “Are you anxious about it?”

You hum, rubbing your hand against the fabric of your sweatpants. “A bit, I think. I want a good part, you know? And I worry I haven’t been working hard enough.”

Oscar tilts his head to look at you.. “You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, you know.”

He means it. And he’s met people from all walks of life- fellow drivers, Moto GP riders, tennis players, engineers, basketball players, and everyone in between. But he’s never seen someone as dedicated as you. Never seen someone pull themselves apart at the seams the way you do, just to get a dance perfect. The way you criticize yourself makes him sad, sometimes. So he keeps telling you how good you are and hopes that someday it rings true for you, too.

“But maybe it’s not enough,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “All you can give is your best. There’s nothing more you can do.”

You smile, nod, and settle in just a little closer. And he has this overwhelming urge to scoop you up, to press his lips to your forehead and tell you just how truly wonderful he thinks you are, how amazed he is. He wants to hold your face in his hands and kiss you, but he can’t.

When he says goodnight and goodbye later, it’s for a while- he’s headed off Zaandvoort. He doesn’t want to go. He knows once he gets there he’ll be excited again, ready to go, raring to be behind the wheel. But he asks you to text him when you’re home safely and finds himself wishing you were just staying at his place instead.

…..

You call him while he’s at the hotel in the Netherlands. He picks up immediately, even though he’s eating dinner with Lando. He steps outside onto the balcony so he can listen to you. The city glitters in front of him, and he thinks of the boats in the harbor in Monaco, the way they light up the water.

“Hi,” he answers, heart skipping a beat in his chest.

“Hi,” you echo back. There’s a certain quality to your voice, a thickness, like you’ve been crying. “They posted the cast list. I haven’t opened it.”

His heart rate kicks up a notch. He knows what this means to you, how important it all is, how much you’ve been hoping for something good. How hard you’ve been working. He sits down in the patio chair on the balcony.

“Okay, that’s-“ he cuts himself off. “Whatever you got, you did your best, right? And that’s all that matters.”

You sniffle, and he can hear you tapping away at your keyboard in the background. “I just. Do you think you could stay on the line while i open the email?”

The feeling he gets is overwhelming. The fact that you trust him with this, that you want him here, as much as he can be. He covers his soft smile with his hand.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, pouring all his sincerity into it. “Whatever you need.”

“Okay. Okay,” you say, like you’re trying to hype yourself up. “Okay, opening it now.”

He holds his breath the whole time he’s waiting. He thinks you might be, too. And then there’s a soft sigh on the other end, and a choked off gasp. And then-

“Oh my god,” you say, teary and breathless. “I got the lead.”

Oscar’s felt pretty happy quite a few times this year. He remembers podiums and his win in Hungary and all the other successes in between. But the way his heart fills with joy in that moment is almost overwhelming. Because he knows how much it means to you, and how much you mean to him. His words almost get caught in his chest.

“You deserve it,” he says, hoping you can’t hear how choked up he is. “You’ve worked so hard.”

“Gonna have to work harder now,” you say. But he can hear the smile in your voice.

He sends you flowers to congratulate you the next morning. You send him a picture with them in your arms, a smile on your face. He wants to make it his lockscreen, but he thinks he’d get far too many questions if he did. Too much of a risk of someone seeing. But it means the world to him either way.

…..

When he swings by your apartment on a random day where he’s back in Monaco, he spots a new picture frame by the door. Inside, there’s a bunch of pressed flowers- daisies and forget me nots and a couple others he can’t name. But he recognizes them from the photo the florist sent when he got the bouquet sent to you.

You catch him looking, hands in his pockets. When you turn to him, you smile sheepishly.

“They meant a lot to me,” you tell him.

His heart thuds in his chest. “I’m glad.”

…..

He wins in Baku, barely holding off Charles. It’s a tough, well earned victory. It’s champagne and confetti on the podium, and Charles being impressed with the move he pulled, and so many hugs and celebratory slaps on his back. It’s the smile on his mother’s face after he gets out of the car, the joy he feels at how happy she is, too.

And yet, when he gets back to his hotel, he finds himself wishing you’d been there.

It’s like he thinks about you and summons you- his phone starts ringing where it’s laying on his chest. He picks up when he sees your contact, his heart speeding up again. There’s music playing in the background when he says hello, your laughter bubbling up over it. It’s the Australian national anthem, he realizes. He starts to laugh, too.

“I’m choreographing a dance to it,” you say decisively, with a smirk on your lips. “My new favorite song.”

“Shouldn’t you be cheering for Charles?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say, very seriously. “Don’t tell him. I’ll be excommunicated from Monaco.”

He laughs, again. He feels lighter, like the stress of the race had finally faded. It’s amazing, how you do that.

“I’m so proud of you,” you tell him, and his heart swells. “Nobody more deserving.”

He lays back on the bed and lets your voice wash over him. “Thank you. It was a tough one.”

“It was fun to watch,” you tell him. “I had everyone else watching with me. I’ve converted half of them into Piastri fans.”

“Half the Monte Carlo ballet?” He teases. “That sounds like treason.“

“Again. Don’t tell Charles.”

“Thank you,” he says. “For watching.”

He means it about more than that, too. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for calling. Thank you for being you. He thinks, again, about telling you how he really feels. That after he got out of his car, he’d imagined finding you in the crowd and pulling you in for a celebratory kiss. But you’re in Monaco, doing what you love, and you’re not his girlfriend, anyway. He has to keep reminding himself.

“You should get some sleep,” you tell him.

He’s not sure what time it is in Monaco, but he laughs. “So should you.”

He talks to you for another hour, at least, and then falls asleep with the phone pressed to his ear. When he wakes up in the morning, he wonders if there’s any way out of these feelings. It sort of feels like something he’ll never get over.

…..

There are a variety of reasons Oscar is happy when the three week fall break finally comes, but more time with you is definitely one of them. You’re even busier with rehearsals than you were before, but you always find time for him.

You sit on the floor of his apartment, one leg stretched out over a bag of ice on your calf. You’re breaking in a new pair of pointe shoes- the process always entertains him. To watch you break something down and put it back together again with stitches and glue and tape. You talk him through each step like he’ll understand what you mean when you use your specific ballet terms.

He jokes about breaking in his race shoes, too, and adding elastic and ribbons to them. You laugh, and then you make him help cut the pieces of ribbon- he smiles at the silky glide of the fabric through his fingers, and tries not to wonder if your skin would be soft under his touch like this, too.

Over dinner at the kitchen counter, you tell him about rehearsals, about the parts you just can’t quite grasp and the ones you’ve gotten down pat.

“I think I’ll be okay by opening night,” you tell him. Then a smile slips across your face, your eyes wide and lit up. “Oh, speaking of- d’you want a ticket? I can get you a seat close to Charles.”

He lights up. “When is it again?”

You tell him the date as he pulls his phone out to check his schedule. If Charles can make it, he assumes he can, too, but it’s better to check just in case. He scrolls on his McLaren calendar and feels his heart plummet into his stomach.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

You tilt your head and frown. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I won’t be back.”

You frown deeper. “It’s a two week break.”

He swallows guiltily and nods. “They want us to stay to film some content. And then I have meetings at the MTC. And- I’m so sorry. I’d be there if I could, but we’re not flying back this way until after, and-“

You place your hand over his. There’s a soft smile on your lips that doesn’t match the sadness in your eyes. “It’s okay, Osc.”

His heart twists. “I’ll come the first chance I get, yeah?”

He knows it’s not the same. He’s heard you talk about opening night, about the electrifying feeling it gives you. He’d promised months ago that he’d come. And sure, it’s not his fault, but… he feels guilty all the same.

“Yeah,” you say. The happy tone of your voice feels forced. “I’ll be better at it by then, anyways.”

You change the subject. Oscar convinces you to stay over when it gets late and you’re still there. Neither of you really want to leave. He insists on sleeping on the couch so you can sleep in the bed- you’re the one who has class and rehearsal the next day, after all. He wakes up to a crick in his neck and the sound of you humming in the kitchen. When he rubs the sleep from his eyes and joins you, he’s happy to find you’ve made breakfast for both of you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, quietly.

“Wanted to,” you say, with a shrug and a smile.

He drives you to the studio, and you invite him in to say hi and hang out for a bit. It’s early, still and people are trickling in, taking time to do individual warm ups before class. You test out your new pointe shoes, and he smiles when he sees the look on your face- they’re perfect, you tell him.

You give him a hug before class starts, when he has to leave. He’s headed home to pack, and then it’s off to Austin on a flight that afternoon. You say what you always say to him before a race weekend.

“Good luck, have fun, be safe, and be nice to Charles,” you say, your cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“But not too nice,” he echoes back.

You nod. He squeezes you tight, and lets himself have this for just one second. His face, pressed against the top of your head. Someone calls for class to start, and you lean up and give him the classic cheek kisses. Then you’re racing off to the studio.

He hopes you don’t catch the blush on his cheeks.

…..

In Austin, he unpacks a hoodie from his suitcase, pulls it over his head, and sighs when he realizes it smells like your perfume. He thinks you borrowed it while you were at his place, something to cuddle up on the couch in while you stretched your poor muscles. He shoves his hands in his pockets and finds a silky strip of ribbon waiting there. It must’ve been one of the scraps from when you’d had him help with your pointe shoes, one you had to trim because he’d cut them far too long. He smiles softly, and without really even thinking, he ties the ribbon around his wrist. A nice reminder of you to carry with him.

He has to remove it eventually, when he heads to the track, but then he shoves it in the pocket of his shorts, and leaves it looped up nicely in his driver room when he has to change for the race. He loops it back around his wrist for the flight to Mexico, and sees Lando eyeing it. Oscar stares back, as if daring him to say a word.

Charles sees it, though, and smirks, when they bump into him in the hotel lobby in Mexico City. “Pretty bracelet.”

Oscar pulls his sleeve over his hand and tries not to look sheepish. He knows his cheeks and ears are turning red. He’s not sure how he’ll explain this to you, if Charles tells you. What if you think it’s weird, or creepy, or-

“She called me yesterday,” Charles says. “She was wearing your hoodie.”

Suddenly, Oscar’s cheeks are turning red for a completely different reason, and he thinks maybe this time he’ll just let it happen.

He calls you from the hotel the next day, late in the afternoon. The time difference sucks, but you’re a night owl, anyways. You’ve got your phone propped up against the mirror in the dance studio, pushed far enough back that he can see you, and your swishy warm up pants he always teases you about, and- and it’s his hoodie you’re wearing, sleeves tucked over your hands, the hood pooling around your neck. He feels his ears go red again and hopes you can’t see in the dim lighting of his hotel room.

“You’re there late,” he comments.

In the background, the window behind you is inky blue. You sigh heavily, like the time is weighing you down. If he was there, he’d lift your shoulders back up himself. Try and take some of the weight off.

“There’s this one combination,” you say, rubbing your finger against the floor. “I just can’t quite get it.”

He hums. He knows the feeling, knows what it’s like to try and try again to hit all the apexes in a sequence of turns and feel like you’re never quite there.

“You need a break, though,” he reminds you. “Sleep and a fresh start would do you good.”

You twist your lips, though you nod in agreement. “I’ll go home soon. Promise.”

He ends up convincing you to walk home with him still on FaceTime- his way of making sure you do go home, and you make it safely. He likes to listen to your routine, anyways- the click of the lights turning on, the rattle of ice cubes in your glass, your soft footsteps on the creaky hardwood floors of your apartment. He can see in the way that your shoulders start to droop that you’re tired, so he lets you go, but not before he gets the same advice he always does.

“Good luck, have fun, be safe, and be nice to Charles,” you tell him.

He nods diligently. “But not too nice.”

…..

In Brazil, during the quali rain delay, Oscar gets cornered.

“You’re not going to opening night,” Charles says, standing with his arms crossed in the paddock.

Oscar ducks his head sheepishly, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I can’t. We don’t fly back until the day after.”

Charles frowns. “That is stupid.”

He’s not wrong. “Yeah. Not much I can do about it, mate. I’d be there if I could.” Oscar pauses. “Hold on. How’d you know I’m not going?”

Charles tilts his head. He’s studying Oscar. “She told me. She’s sad about it, you know.”

Charles is disappointed. Oscar’s got a lot of respect for the guy- he hates to disappoint him. He hates even more to think that he’s made you sad. He thinks of the pink ribbon that’s laying in his driver room, the way you’d laughed while you’d tried to teach him how to sew. He thinks of your costume fittings, the peeks of the fabric he got to see, how it’ll be far too long before he gets to watch you spin around on stage in them. How excited you’d looked at the idea of him being there for opening night. His chest aches.

“I do want to be there,” he tells Charles, hating the nearly whiny tone his voice takes on. “I just…”

“I know,” Charles says softly. “And she understands. But I thought you should know she really wants you there.”

Charles leaves, then, probably off to find Max or Pierre. Oscar’s left standing, wishing he could find a way to be in two places at once.

Formula One and ballet are oddly similar, in Oscar’s opinion. It’s all about balance and rhythm, about dancing on the knife’s edge. Nothing makes that more clear than a quali session in the rain. He pulls his boots on and pictures you, ribbon slipping through your fingers as you lace it around your calves. With each corner he takes on the track, he can see you leaping across the stage. He balances the wheel between his fingers and thinks of you, spinning on the very tips of your toes like it’s easy. There’s a strength, hidden under tights and tulle, that amazed him more than anything else. You make it look easy. He can’t always say the same for himself. He’s still getting the hang of the balance.

If he tells you that, you’ll tell him he’s crazy. That you’re safe on the stage while he careens around a track in a machine made of metal and carbon fiber and not much else. He remembers you complaining about a blister on your foot, and how he’d suggested padding and bandaids.

“Then I can’t feel the floor,” you’d told him.

He’d frowned, holding one of your shoes, tapping at the hard toe box at the end. “Can you feel the floor through all this?”

You’d smiled and nodded. “You’re telling me you can’t feel the track, even through all that?”

You’re right, he finds. He can feel it, on some tracks more than others. With this one, the thing he feels the most is the way it slips away from him. But he can feel it nonetheless. He tries to channel that into the race, but there’s far too much water in the way.

Sunday exhausts him. It’s enough to have to do quali and the race on the same day, let alone to have to be up so early to do so. He feels for the mechanics, of course, who are there even earlier. It’s not an ideal race- it’s more damage limitation, than anything, with the rain and the red flags and the penalty from his incident with Liam. He takes it on the chin as much as he can, but when they’re told they can head back to the hotel he’s quite relieved. He needs sleep, desperately.

Max invites him out to celebrate, but he politely declines. He runs into Charles leaving the track and ends up in a car with him. Charles makes him think of you, he always does.

“You going out with Max?” He asks.

Charles shakes his head and yawns. “Early flight home tomorrow,” he says. “So I can be there with plenty of time to make it to the ballet.”

At the mention of opening night, Oscar’s heart sinks. The exhaustion hits him even harder, and he slumps over in his seat, letting the sound of the rain on the car windows lull him.

…..

The stage lights are blindingly bright, but you manage to make it through the very first show. It’s not perfect- no performance ever really is- but it’s as close as it can be, really. It feels good, to have worked so hard to get there, to have worked even harder after getting the role, and to have it all pay off.

You don’t change out of your finale costume before you head out to the lobby. The kids who come of the shows always love to see the dresses and leotards and sparkly makeup. You greet them with smiles, despite your exhaustion, and do the same to your friends.

Your smile gets wider when you spot Charles, with some of his family in tow. You wave them over, trying to see everyone through the crowds. There’s someone next to him who you can’t quite make out, someone who Charles tugs along by their upper arm. Someone holding a giant bouquet, filled with daisies and forget-me-nots. Your heart skips a beat.

Charles is the one who rolls his eyes and shoves the bouquet towards you. You’re half laughing, half crying when you come face to face with Oscar. You pull him into a hug, one he returns with force, half crushing the flowers between the two of you. You don’t care. He means more than any bouquet ever could.

“You said you couldn’t make it!” You say, shock still rolling through you.

“They released us from some of our plans after the hell weekend in Brazil,” he says, the words melting into your skin where his lips are pressed to your temple. “So I hitched a ride.”

You grin at Charles over Oscar’s shoulder. He gives you a horrible wink in return, and mouths the word later before fading into the crowd.

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you say, leaning back to look at him.

He shrugs. “M’wide awake now. You were incredible.”

You laugh, one arm still looped around his neck. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it, every time.”

His hand falls to your hip, fingers brushing against the poofy tulle. You swear you can feel the warmth of him, even through all the layers. Maybe it’s just radiating off of him, off his smile and the blush on his cheeks and the fact that he’s here at all.

When you speak next, he opens his mouth and says something at the same time. The two of you pause, then dissolve into giggles again.

“You first,” you say.

He hums. “You sure you don’t want to go first?”

“You flew all the way here, I think you get the honors.”

He nods, smiles, and swallows. “Okay. Um. Any chance you’re not busy after this?”

There’s the cast dinner, but it’s not mandatory. And besides, you think after all the talking you’ve done about Oscar for the past few months, they’ll understand.

“I’m free,” you tell him.

“Prefect,” he says. “Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll go out to dinner.”

“Just you and me?” you ask, hopefully.

He nods. “Just you and me.”

You nod, the grin already breaking across your lips. “Sounds like a date.”

He laughs, muffling the sound into your forehead. “It sure does. I’d like that. If you want it to be.”

“Yeah,” you tell him, smiling bigger than you think you have all night. “I’d like that a lot.”

…..

You fall asleep on his shoulder before the dessert Oscar ordered can make it to the table. He doesn’t complain, though. He just asks for it to go instead, and pays the bill between his own yawns. He wakes you gently when he’s ready to go, and laughs at your sheepish smile, at the apology you mumble out, batting sleepy lashes at him. He can’t blame you for being exhausted.

Your hair is undone, makeup off, but he’s never found you more beautiful. More elegant. He half carries you out to the car and offers to take you home, but you yawn and shake your head. Then you lean over and kiss him, right on the lips, your arm around his neck again. He cups your face in his hands and soaks it all in while he kisses you back. Lets himself melt into the moment.

“I’m taking all the time I can get with you,” you tell him, when you pull away, your lips still brushing against his cheek. “Take me to your place, Mr. Piastri.”

He likes the sound of that. And when he falls asleep with you tucked against his chest, the soft glow of the Monaco harbor in view out of his bedroom window over your shoulder, he finds he likes the reality of it even more.

…

a/n: can’t decide if i love this or hate it, but at least i wrote something!!! thanks for reading!

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii @mynamejeff5 @c-losur3 @casperlikej @the-navistar-carol @everyonesluvah @jsjcue @ggaslyp1 @si1ver06 @nicole01-23 @andruuu28 @coffeehurricanes

Imagine a world where, after Tim lost his brother, he went to the Cult of the Lightless Flame for help

Imagine Desolation Avatar Tim, with fire that springs to his fingertips on command, and a disconcertingly amiable personality, kind and charming and so, so similar to our Tim, right up until he sets your house on fire with your children inside

Imagine an Eye avatar Jon who got his powers organically, without meddling from Elias.

Imagine a man conflicted and torn about his actions, orchestrating events where technically, he never directly hurt anyone - think feeding on social anxiety, exposing people’s secrets and feeding on their despair.

After all, if they didn’t want to be his dinner, they shouldn’t have kept secrets, right ? He’s not a bad guy. He’s just…doing all he can

Now imagine a Tim who feeds off of Desolation by following closely behind Jon’s actions.

Oh, Jon revealed that so-and-so was cheating on his wife ? Well, that sounds like a mighty painful experience for the wife. Seems a shame to let all that good fear go to waste, right ? Might as well feed !!

Now imagine Web Avatar Annabelle Cane , watching from the shadows as all this happens.

Eventually, she reaches out and makes contact with Tim, and makes a deal - call a local fast-food place, and Cane will trick them into believing Jon’s a police officer. Then Jon can make the employees humiliate one of their own, as Tim feeds on the target's pain and Annabelle feeds on the control she's exerting, both over the employees, via social conditioning, and her fellow Avatars

Perfect deal. Why would Jon go along with it, you ask ? Why would Tim ? Well, if Annabelle conveniently made them forget the meaning of the terms “strip search”, then they have no reason to turn her down, right ?

Seeing how well this turned out, the three decide to make their dynamic a daily thing, each one orchestrating events that let all three feed. True symbiosis

Maybe they get Spiral Avatar Michael in on their shenanigans too, sometimes - he makes someone hallucinate their way into believing all their secrets have been exposed, killing themselves in front of a loved one, and feeds on their madness as Tim feeds on their loved one’s pain and Jon on their humiliation

Maybe they find that even more useful and now he’s part of the team too !! Woo gang !! Friends forever !!

Maybe they try to get Flesh Avatar Jared Hopworth in as well, only to realize he’s already made a deal with Hunt Avatar Daisy Tonner - she hunts and kills one out of a pair of travellers, and Jared convinces the survivor to feed on the corpse

Maybe they decide - hey, fuck it - and form an alliance with Slaughter Avatar Melanie King. She kills, and the others feed on the chaos that ensues. Maybe Jared and Daisy get in on it too sometimes - one big happy Avatar family, each one feeding everyone with their actions

And maybe one day Jon has an epiphany - maybe he accidentally hurts someone he cares about or sees the consequences of his actions. Maybe he decides he doesn’t want to be an Avatar anymore

Maybe he runs away from the group. Maybe he goes to the Magnus Institute, using his position as a fellow Eye Avatar to get Elias to help him out

Maybe Elias agrees and sets him up in a small house by the countryside. But wait - unfortunately, he’s going to have to share the space. You see, the Institute recently helped a prized pupil of Peter Lukas escape his grasp

Oh, who ? Why, Lonely Avatar Martin Blackwood of course !!

Sorry, just having thoughts about my Avatar Crew AU. Do y’all want me to write it ? I might

Masterlist

Bold means smut

Aizawa:

After Hours

Katsuki Bakugou: 

Little Black Dress 

New Nickname

Panty Thief (Part 1) 

Blind Date 

First Time

Do Not Disturb

S/O On Period Headcannons

Stolen Kiss 

Stranded

Darkest Desires

Caramel 

Winner Takes It All 

Hot Tub Anyone?

That’s How It’s Done

Bratty Katsuki Drabble

Tongue Piercing Drabble

Not So Innocent

Impatience

Series: 

A Princess and Her Duty (Barbarian! Bakugou x f!Reader): Chapter 1 

Deku: 

Mommy Kink

Denki Kaminari: 

Winner Takes All

Eijiro Kirishima: 

Video Games 

Tease (Part 2 to Video Games)

Red Riot the Unbreakable

HC’s of Kirishima’s S/O getting harrassed by Mineta

Stolen Kiss 

Darkest Desires

New Panties

That’s How It’s Done

Thigh Riding With Kiri

Todoroki Shoto: 

Stolen Kiss

HC of Poly Relationship with Reader and Shinsou

Darling, You’re Perfect

Jealousy

Hitoshi Shinsou: 

HC of Poly Relationship with Reader and Todoroki

Soft Morning Oral Sex 

Mirio: 

Be Rough With Me

Shindou: 

Cockwarming

Tamaki Amajiki: 

First Date?

S/O On Period Headcannons

Makes his S/O loud in bed

You’re Mine, Bunny

Sick Days

Dabi: 

Kitten

Overhaul:

Subby Overhaul drabble

Hawks: 

First Date

BNHA masterlist

Aizawa Shouta:

Oneshots:

Background Music

Midoriya Izuku: 

Oneshots:

Moral Support

Todoroki Shouto:

Oneshots:

Worried

Shirakumo Oboro:

Headcanons:

Helping his S/O who has a strong quirk

Shinsou Hitoshi:

The Mentor’s Child (a multichapter fic): Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Oneshots:

Your Feelings Matter

Amajiki Tamaki:

Headcanons:

Having an underclassman S/O

Dabi:

Oneshots:

The Smell of Jealousy (Omega!Dabi x Alpha!reader)

A Thousand Years

Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion tells a story of love.

"Tell me about your wife." said the man sitting in front of Astarion, the room was quiet around them, only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

Upon hearing the word, wife, Astarion's features softened. 

"It might be a long one."

"I want to hear it." insisted the man as he leaned back in his chair, waiting for Astarion to start.

Astarion smiled, his eyes filled with love as he began.

"My wife... My beloved Y/N. She saved me you know, in more ways than one. She not only helped me kill the man who caused me so much pain and suffering, but she saved me from myself.

My beloved was a strong woman, brave and incredibly beautiful. She was a kind soul and yet, she could kill a thousand men without taking a break.

She loved songs and loved to dance. Although that might be because I was the one dancing with her. She often said she didn't wish to dance with anyone else but me.

She enjoyed sweets. But only the ones I have given her.

And even if I told her not, she kept on eating them.

It has been so long yet, I will never forget her laugh. She became my world. You know, it wasn't even intentional, I fell in love by accident. I was only meant to seduce her so she would help me kill Cazador. And yet I found myself in love.

But make no mistake, I never regretted the feelings I have. Not once. Falling in love with her was so easy.

I am quite privileged to be able to tell that she was my wife.

My... scars on my back, she cried when she first saw them. She hugged me and told me how sorry she was for I had to endure such pain. She kissed me and cried at the same time. I was so confused by it, I didn't know what to do.

But then, not long after, I asked her to marry me." Astarion looked at the gold band on his finger.

"I never believed in marriage, I thought it was silly for people to bind themselves to one another, and the symbol of it all... a simple ring. I laughed at the idea until I met the person I never wanted to let go of again. Suddenly I wanted nothing more but to have her bonded to me and for me to be bonded to her. I looked and searched for the perfect rings. Matching ones, but hers had a simple stone in the middle. A stone which was made of our blood. The perfect diamond, mixed with my and her blood. And then, we were married. Not like the words of others mattered to me, I would have been happy just to have her in my life, but to have her as my wife... it meant everything. 

I will not bore you of the events directly after the wedding, leave it up for your imagination I suppose, but I can assure you, she was the first woman who could have me at her feet with a simple look.

And she always looked at me with so much love and care. She was always so gentle and lovely.

When people say love burns like fire, they lie, my love for her burns like lava, much like the core of the Earth. I was ready to destroy everything and everyone who would dare get between us. If I had to, I would have burnt down villages for her, for she was mine.

And not long after, she gave me the greatest gift. 

A gift so precious.

I will never forget the look on her face when she told me, pure happiness.

She was with child.

Something I never even thought would be possible for me and yet there she was, getting more and more round with my child, with my son. Our son.

She was the sun for me. I have lived a long life in darkness and pain, and she made it all go away with a simple simple. I had a life of happiness thanks to her." Astarion leaned back in his chair once more when the noises from the kitchen stopped.

"STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD!"

"I have never used the word 'dead', My Love." Astarion turned to look at you as you exited the kitchen.

"But you made it sound like I am." you pouted as Astarion looked at the ring on your finger, he smiled as you placed the food on the table. "Don't listen to him, Love, he is but an old romantic." you said as you sat down.

"I am very much aware, Mother. I just like to listen to him talk about you." admitted your son as he smiled at the two of you. Now a grown man, yet all you could see was him as a little boy running around the house, hair silver like his father's but eyes the same as yours.

"That's because I love your mother very much."

"I love you too." you replied as you all finally began to eat.

You two loved each other for a thousand years, and you will continue to love for another thousand to come.

Your son could only hope to find such love.

Taglist: @fleursirvart@greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace@sincerelyfan@theoneanna@aestheticsandmarvel@rororo06@castellandiangelo@destynelseclipsa@spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll@puknow@alwayshave-faith@alex12948@lxdyred@imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl@anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek@praline357 @trshngyn@avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse@jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie@noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

Ten Drarry Fics That Made Me Smile Like an Idiot in 2017

I was supposed to write this post a lot earlier, I’d planned to do it on NYE but the last couple weeks have been kinda crazy, so I couldn’t find the time to do it then, to make up for it, this will be an annotated rec list, meaning that I’ll also put in everything that I absolutely love love love about that fic. So here you are, more than 3 weeks later than planned, my fluff recs for 2017.

As the title suggests this list is SUPER subjective. These fics are just such nice, light reads with little to no angst and sometimes you just need something this cute and just good.

Edit: Upon finishing the list I realized that my “reviews” are basically just me gushing about the fic in question. So if you’re expecting to find actual intelligent, technical reviews, you are not going to find those here. 

Operation: S.M.W.L.N.T.E.T.H.S.P by XxTheDarkLordxX

Typically, notes from admirers would bring smiles to one’s face or even lift their mood. It might make their day or even their week. It was a sign of a romantic at heart and even considered sweet.

However, Draco Malfoy doesn’t do sweet. If he got one more note saying he looked radiant or beautiful, he was going to kill someone. Literally. His secret admirer better stay a secret before he cursed them into oblivion… right after he figured out how to stop blushing.

This thing right here is so pure and funny The secret admirer notes that Harry sends are so cute and Draco’s reactions to the notes and how they went from “I wanna kill this person.” to “I can’t stop blushing.” is also great. Also they (everyone except Harry, Harry hates it) call it “Operation: Seduce Malfoy With Love Letters To Ensure That Harry Stops Pining” which is kind of hilarious. It was a very fun, light read. 10/10 would recommend.

Owl post by parkkate

Imagine Draco, sometime after the war, sitting alone in his flat and not knowing what to do with himself. He feels so empty, but on the other hand, there’s so much he wants to say. But who should he talk to? There’s nobody there. So he just begins writing his thoughts down. Little does he know his owl is delivering these to the person she thinks Draco needs most in his life

Ahhh this one is just so sweet. I love the idea that Draco’s owl delivers his discarded letters to (SPOILER) Harry. You get to see Harry help Draco so much and I know that I use the word pure a lot (and there is definitely more to come) BUT IT’S JUST SO PURE AND NICE. I just love it a lot.

Surviving the Horde by FleetofShippyShips

Draco has managed to avoid Christmas at the Burrow for ten years, but not this year.

Domestic Drarry, DOMESTIC DRARRY, DOMESTIC DRARRY. All the bickering and the domestic fluff is so heartwarming. I can definitely see Draco refusing to join Harry at the Burrow for Christmas until one day Harry stops taking no for an answer and drags Draco along anyway. Draco’s interactions with the Weasley’s, his friendships with Ron and Ginny are just SO good and I want more of it all.  

Magic Tricks by cant_we_just_be_happy

Draco’s wasted. Harry’s annoyed. Draco wants to be entertained. Harry shows Draco a bit of muggle-culture.

So, Drunk Draco is a clingy blessing. How fascinated Draco is by a simple card trick is just so adorable. The way he demands to know which spell Harry used is just so adorable. How he has basically no filter when drunk is just so adorable. Draco is just so adorable. Oh, and it’s an eighth year roommates AU, which is such a good trope.

I Can’t Take It! by XxTheDarkLordxX

After the war, Draco Malfoy became an author. A best selling author whose books move the hearts of those who read them. Which wouldn’t be a problem for Ron if all of them weren’t about Harry! It was obvious to him that Malfoy was in love with his best friend but why was it that no one else seemed to think so? He was going to get to the bottom of this and get Harry to stop mooning over the blonde idiot at the same time. Perhaps, they just needed someone to come along and get them to fess up. For the safety of his own sanity, Ron was going to help Malfoy ensnare Harry. That is, if they can get along long enough not to kill each other.

I👏fucking👏love👏author👏Draco👏 Well that and THE RON AND DRACO FRIENDSHIP Give👏me👏more👏Ron👏and👏Draco👏friendship👏  Okay, for real though, Draco writes novels, fucking novels, inspired by Harry and Harry’s a huuuge fan of his work. It’s basically mutual pining but more complicated and better and just great. 

Stealing Sweaters by DorthyAnn (JenniferMarie)

It’s their eighth and final year and over the course of several months, Harry and Draco have managed to become close friends. Their friends are entirely certain that they ought to be much, much more. So they just decide to… help things along.

I love this so so so much it’s just so god damn relatable and funny but not without a little bit of angst. Having meddling friends that mean well but almost ruin everything for you is a concept that I’m VERY familiar with and it was nice to see that reflected in this. How Draco’s and Harry’s friends worked together to get Drarry to happen was great, although they made it worse than it was before they meddled. Other than their getting together arc, Harry and Draco’s friendship is also very lovely. Read this, do it, it’s great.

We’re Already Married by XxTheDarkLordxX

“Our whole lives we have always told people that we were married. I knew that it wasn’t exactly normal but it was always something that filled me with so much affection for you. I have loved you for so long. Longer than I ever realized.” Harry took a deep breath as he looked into shining silver eyes.

Or…

Three-year-old Harry asks little Draco to marry him and they insist to anyone who will listen that they are indeed already married.

Okay so, cute baby Drarry ✅ Jealous friends Drarry ✅ I love you so much that I can’t be friends with you anymore Drarry ✅ Oh jeez, this thing right here is just the purest tooth-rotting fluff that I’ve read in the last year. Just imagine tiny Harry telling tiny Draco that he has pretty eyes and that they’re best friends and asking Draco to marry him because they’re best friends and Harry really likes Draco. Doesn’t it just make you want to squeal?! It’s just so pure and sweet and nice and *sigh* I just have a lot of feeling for this fic.

Falling In Like by SereneFreakGeekFandoms:

Returning for his eighth year, Harry finds himself followed by girls catcalling him, surrounded by paired up friends that would rather snog in his presence, and unexpected thoughts that begin to fill his head to the point of confusion. With some gay novels thrown in.

“Falling In Like” features a very sexually confused Harry and it’s about him understanding and coming to terms with his sexuality. And Draco reads muggle gay novels and him and Harry lowkey start a book club between the two of them and it’s great. 

Kiss Me Not by DorthyAnn (JenniferMarie)

Sometimes a witch or wizards magical signature is so completely incompatible with another that they repel one another like magnets. On the other hand, if two magical signatures mesh well together, well there are no stronger relationships in all the world. In a sample of a thousand people, the average witch or wizard will be slightly repelled by four or five people and strongly repelled by only one, at the most. The opposite is true for attraction. But Harry Potter can’t kiss anyone at all.

God, I love this so, so much. One thing about me is that I’m a sucker for soulmate AU’s and while “Kiss Me Not” is not technically a soulmate AU, it certainly has a lot of the elements of a soulmate AU. Guys, it’s just so cute and so well written and just really well thought out. It’s amazing, I love it, it’s amazing.

A Hyperactive Fruit, a Nasty Neighbour and a Love Story by synonym4life

Potter’s pet Niffler is wreaking havoc in Godric’s Hollow and Draco, the Assistant Head to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is the one who has to deal with it. Repeatedly. The fact that Potter keeps coming to Draco’s office in grey jogging bottoms - repeatedly - does in no way help the matter.

And last but definitely not least, we have this guy here, the only R rated fic in the list. So Harry has the most adorable pet Niffler, who has a weird obsession with oranges as well as garden gnomes. Draco is weak for Harry with joggers. This is hilarious and adorable and also, it’s really, really good smut. *fans self* ((Fun fact, I am sitting at a coffee shop in our student union building and I wanted to skim through the fic to remember details and I couldn’t stop reading it and then suddenly I was reading smut on a laptop screen in a crowded coffee shop.))

I read your recent Levi fic and I absolutely love your writing??? May I request a canon verse Levi fic too? A fic where the reader is Levi's wife and she visits him at the survey corps and a lot of the people are in awe of her and are shocked finding out the husband she's looking for is Levi? Just some funny fluff! Bonus points for the reader being more soft and affectionate in public with him so we have a cute embarrassed Levi LOL tysm!

The Wife

Levi Ackerman x Reader (Mayyybe some Erwin x Reader?)

Summary: : A particularly breathtaking woman has decided to visit, and gossip is strife in the Scouting Legion.

Warnings: SFW / mentions of a miscarriage

Wordcount: 7.1K

Genre: Tooth rotting FLUFF

A/N: EEEKK this took soo long! But thank you for appreciating my scribbles, anon! I try :> Also, I absolutely LIVE for this request, I'm so glad you asked for it <3

Maria's Scribblings MASTERLIST

Depending on who you are, Sundays in the Scouting Legion either meant you get to finally have your once a week visit to go home and see your family, or-- if you’re Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Ymir, Christa, Reiner, and Bertholdt-- you don’t have a family to go home to, and so you get to spend Sundays lazing around and keeping post in the Legion’s base.

But it isn’t all too bad! Sundays can be quite eventful if you’ve got a good eye for entertainment. Because where Eren is glad he’s finally fucking free of that bastard Jean’s neighing, the rest of the newly minted 104th recruits of the Scouting Legion get to keep themselves up to speed in the military’s juicy, juicy gossip.

And if they’re lucky, Sundays would let them see scandal unfold! In fact, Ymir can’t tell you how many stories she’s heard of Officers’ mistresses visiting the compound. Or of Officers whose wives just visited the morning before, visiting their mistresses the afternoon later!

For Commanding Officers specifically, affairs are fairly easy to spot since most of them don’t leave the compound even on Sundays, thanks to their mountains of paperwork. No one’s judging them though; they are only human after all. And there is an understanding amongst Legion soldiers that a few trysts with prostitutes—like Squad Leader Zacharias’ happy excursions with a woman named ‘Babydoll’-- could slide every now and then considering their lifestyle. The job doesn’t exactly allow for many long term attachments.

There’s also the matter of figuring out which soldier is sleeping with who.

Did that Squad Leader’s subordinate just stay in his office all day? Not even coming out once?

Or perhaps, who may be secretly married with kids without telling anyone, including a fellow Scout that they’ve been sleeping with.

Maybe a few civilian girlfriends here and there.

Once, Bertholdt had to gently lead out a weeping woman who’s apparently fallen pregnant, and was telling a Scout that the child was his.

Now, Mikasa didn’t give a rat’s ass about it all.

Eren just does his job with an almost impressive single-mindedness, but he reacts every now and then.

Armin tries not get too caught up in it all, but he often ends up being the one to unravel whatever compelling mystery-scandal they’ve got, because of course he does.

Bertholdt just listens quietly, so quietly you can hear him praying to the goddesses that their superiors don’t catch them. But he’s also the one who would end up telling Connie, Sasha, and Jean everything once they come back the next day.

Reiner gives a snide comment or two, always trying to rationalize things before jumping to conclusions. He’s probably the only person who’s actually actively listening to Ymir.

Christa hisses at Ymir to stop gossiping about their superiors’ sex lives, that it’s not right. All while secretly curious about the gossip, but never admitting to it.

And Ymir? Ymir just laughs at Christa, and proceeds to gossip some more. She loves this shit. Lives for it even.

“Oh loosen up! It’s literally my only form of entertainment these days,” she would say.

But there was one riveting piece of gossip that’s got them all glued to every word Ymir says. Yes, even Mikasa.

“I swear I heard that Captain Levi’s got a secret girlfriend somewhere! A particularly young girlfriend, in fact.”

“We’re all but three weeks in the Scouts and already, you’re starting a smear campaign on the Captain,” Christa admonishes.

“It’s not a smear campaign if it’s true,” Ymir quips back.

"Uh huh, and who’s your ‘reputable’ source this time?” Reiner chimes in, shaking out a fresh load of hay for the horses. The cadets have been tasked to guard the main gate as well as the stables nearby for the day’s expected visitors and soldiers going in and out of the compound.

“I overheard my Squad Leader whisper about it.” Ymir’s smug snicker was all Christa needed to pause what she’s doing.

In fact, it made them all pause. If the Squad Leaders were whispering about it, then it must hold water.

Mikasa was the first to speak, nonchalantly going back to her task, “Well, I wouldn’t put it past an officer who would openly beat up a helpless man on his knees just to prove a point.” Eren responded by muttered that he was fine.

“Right? Besides, Captain Short Stack’s in clear need of a good lay!” Ymir guffawed, piling onto Mikasa’s spite. This time, it was Christa’s turn to chide.

“Don’t talk about the Captain like that! It’s not right, Ymir. We’re going to get into some serious trouble because of this.” And as long as it’s Christa disagreeing with something, you best believe Reiner would take her side straight away.

“Christa’s right,” he says, Ymir rolling her eyes at the way he puffs out his chest in bravado. “There’s no reason for us to gossip like hens. Besides,” Reiner grins mischievously to his friends, “I heard Commander Erwin's wife is coming today.”

“And so?” Bertholdt raises an eyebrow at him.

Reiner takes his closest friend in a clutch around his arm. “And so, I heard she’s a hot piece of ass, Bertie!”

Annoyed, Bertholdt shakes him off. “Call me Bertie one more time, and I’ll tell Jean you’ve been fantasizing over the girls he draws.” A threat which promptly shuts Reiner up with a conceding gesture.

“The Commander’s married?” Christa asks curiously.

“And how hot is the wife exactly?” Eren nudges Reiner. Reiner would’ve given the younger cadet the low down if it weren’t for Mikasa’s death glares trained right on Reiner’s jugular.

“Err… I’ll tell you another time, Eren.”

Waving her hands in the air, Ymir intervenes. “Yeah and who the hell cares about Commander Erwin’s babe of a wife anyways—put your hand down, Reiner.”

“And I thought you were a woman of culture,” Reiner grumbled.

Ignoring the blonde man, Ymir continued excitedly. “The meat gets juicier! Seems like Captain Levi’s young girlfriend was his lieutenant.”

There was a collective gasp.

“No.” It was the first time Armin spoke. Ymir nodded enthusiastically.

“Yup! Before Petra, she was the only girl in the Special Ops Squad. Handpicked by our esteemed Captain, of course.” Ymir looks to her friends conspiratorially, her eyes conveying what was said between the lines.

“A-are you saying she… had an affair with her superior?” Armin could barely say the words. Very dangerous words.

“And it seems like the Captain got his favorite pregnant and so she had to be quietly dismissed and sent away. My Squad Leader even mentioned catching her leaving his office well into the wee hours of the night. Even spotting matching hickeys on them both.” Ymir snorted. “Who would’ve thought, huh? Captain Levi? She must be a fucking bombshell for the Captain to even notice her. Or a saint. Because who the fuck wants to deal with Captain Scrooge McShorty? Never thought I’d see the day when I’d hear a woman is actually interested in that midget. But I suppose a rank adds a few inches, eh?”

All while Ymir was yapping along, the rest of the cadets were quiet.

“…So the Captain has a kid?” Eren could barely wrap his head around what he just heard. It just doesn’t check out to him. Captain Levi, for all his singular tastes and dangerous temper, did not strike Eren as the type to take advantage of his young subordinates.

Ymir frowned. “Well. From what I heard, she miscarried.”

Armin was still, “That’s not why she was sent away w-was she?”

In a snap, Christa shook her head vehemently. “Stop that! How can you say those nasty things about another woman, Ymir?! From what I know, Squad Leader Klaus doesn’t have the best track record either, so who is he to judge?!” Christa’s little face was contorted in loathing now. And she was right. Klaus’s reputation precedes him, and it certainly isn’t a good one.

Mikasa sighs, standing by Christa comfortingly. She was no avid advocate for the Captain, but she can recognize blatant misogyny when she sees it. “True or not, talk like that has no room in our job description. The Captain’s personal affairs is none of our business, and frankly,” Mikasa’s face scrunches up in disgust. “I’d rather not know. Let’s just finish up here before the next wave of visitors arrive.”

It was then that a soldier from outside Legion perimeters hollers to the cadets to open the main gate; a visitor was to stable their horse. Bertholdt and Reiner jog to yank open the gates to let in a rider with a lady riding side-saddle on pillion as his passenger.

A very pregnant lady riding side-saddle on pillion, indeed.

Hurriedly, Reiner helps the woman down the moment he saw her condition, being the biggest of the bunch. Once he sets her down in a graceful sweep, very careful to be gentle, Reiner was immediately struck frozen to his spot.

This very pregnant lady was absolutely gorgeous.

Her beauty was only accentuated by the pretty smile she offered the strong blonde soldier, when she beamed up at him with a, “Thank you, Cadet. Would you terribly mind showing my steward where he can stable the horse, as well as where he can rest with some food and drink?”

While Reiner was slack-jawed and stupid trying to formulate a coherent answer, the woman’s steward dismounted and handed the lady a full-looking wicker basket. Most likely bearing treats and food for whoever she was visiting in the Scouts, judging by the wonderful smell of baked goods coming from it. Quickly, Bertholdt and Eren swoop in.

“I’ll stable the horse for your steward, ma’am. We’ll give him some fresh hay, too,” Bertholdt says, already getting a hold of the horse’s reins. He looks to the steward, “If you’ll just follow me, sir. I’ll show where the refreshments and the nearest inn are after I stable the horse.”

And Eren, also already dumbstruck by their new lovely visitor, immediately offered to carry the woman’s basket for her. With an equally charming smile, she thanks Bertholdt, and gratefully hands Eren the basket—whose face blooms into a blush when she said he was too kind.

“She’s… so beautiful. Like, in an elegant way,” Christa quietly squeaks to Ymir who, just as in awe, distractedly replied with a, “Must be the pregnancy glow hormones.”

But something makes her stop.

The woman had a wedding ring.

This wasn’t just any pretty visitor, this was a very beautiful married woman come to visit the Scouts who—judging by the fine horse and the personal steward—must be connected to somebody high-ranking indeed.

“Psst! Reiner!” Ymir nudges at the still stuttering oaf. Her eyes dart to the lady then back to Reiner.

“That’s the Commander’s wife!”

Before the realization fully sunk into Reiner’s ogling face, Armin and Mikasa quickly jumped into protocol.

“I presume you are here to visit your husband, ma’am?” Mikasa asks courteously.

The woman smiles kindly, “I am.” Already expecting that she would have to be escorted to her husband’s office, immediately follows with, “His office is at the Commander’s Corridor in the North Wing.”

In a wordless look amongst the Cadets, the 104th immediately recognized that this lady was indeed who they thought she was at her reply. After all, who else would she be visiting in the Commander’s Corridor of all places?

“Alright, Cadet Braun and I will just go up to inform him that you’re here so that you won’t have to climb all the way up. We wouldn’t you to strain yourself, ma’am,” Armin says, taking the woman’s pregnancy into consideration. But the woman said otherwise.

“Oh, no need for that! He’s a busy man, I understand. And he probably won’t take kindly to you kids disturbing his work. Besides,” she says with a twinkle on her eye. “I want to surprise my husband, considering he hasn’t seen me in months.” A hand smooths over her large belly, telling the Cadets exactly what she means. At that, Armin and Christa especially smile back at her, saying they completely understand.

“But do allow us to go ahead and alert him that you’re here. It’s protocol, you see,” Armin said apologetically. The woman just nods and says it’s all fine, as Armin taps at Reiner before they begin to jog up to Commander Erwin’s office.

Turning back to the visitor, Mikasa tells her that as is also protocol, the rest of them would have to escort her up; also so that they could assist her in her climb up. Hardworking as always, Eren eagerly nods with the basket in hand; always ready to serve, as the woman agrees. And so, with Mikasa and Eren leading the group, Christa walks by the woman right behind the two, as Ymir walks at the tail-end of the group.

~

As they were walking past the courtyard, Christa looks up to the North Wing—the highest of the livable offices in the base—and then looks worriedly to the woman she and her friends were escorting.

“Ma’am? Are you absolutely sure you can climb up? It’s a lot of stairs to the top of the highest office wing. We wouldn’t want to endanger you.” They’ve reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the Commander’s Corridor, cueing Christa and Ymir to flank the pregnant woman in order to support and assist her up; allowing Christa to hold her hand, while Ymir rest a ready hand at the base of her back.

The woman just laughs indulgently. “Don’t worry Cadet, I’m made of tougher stuff than you think.” She winks at Christa.

“I was once a Scout like you, you know.”

“You were a Scout?!” Ymir gasped in surprise. Mikasa gives her a sharp look for the impolite shock in Ymir’s voice. But the woman didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she humored the question.

“Oh yes, how do you think I met my husband? We were in the same squad when we did,” she smiled.

With wide eyes, Eren swivels and starts going up the steps backwards to exclaim, “Damn, you must be really good!” (An action which Mikasa promptly calls out, jabbing him in the side to make him face front.) For her to be a part of the Commander’s Squad, she must at least be an above average soldier.

The woman just gave a modest shrug, “Well, I was already a veteran when I married. So I suppose I was.”

With thoughtful eyes, Christa asks, “It must have been difficult to leave the Scouts. It’s for a happy occasion of course, but I can’t imagine it was ever easy to readjust to a new life.”

The lady purses her lips playfully, her bright eyes looking up in thought. “Weeell, having to be a Scout is pretty darn difficult, I’d say. Especially when I had to serve at the vanguard before I could become a full-fledged veteran. So setting down a Scout’s mantel was fairly easy.” It was a lighthearted but plainly honest answer. Then her face turned solemn. “But I’d say the hardest part was to leave my husband to it all.”

She looks to the young and curious eyes around her. “There’s something about leaving your spouse to the perils of being a Scout that’s terrifying. Knowing that while I’m safely cooped up with his child in my belly, he’s still out there risking his life with no guarantee that he’d make it out alive. It kept me up at night. Especially knowing how truly dangerous those perils are because I, myself have experienced them. And I would wonder, who would look out for him now? Because it was I who looked out for him.” Like a spell broken, she shakes her head, and her brilliant smile comes back to light up her face.

“Yet still, if a little bit of fear and bravery is all it takes to spend a life with him, to be the woman who gets to love him forever, then so be it. My husband is a skilled soldier. I trust that he can take care of himself.”

Christa—and secretly, Mikasa—all but swooned and sighed at how romantic their visitor’s words were. Ymir meanwhile, was eager to hear more as the group was nearing the mezzanine.

“How was it? Dating as soldiers, I mean. I can’t imagine it was particularly welcomed that you were dating the Scout’s top-dog,” Ymir says carefully assisting the woman through the last few steps. The woman wiped at the sweat on her forehead with a kerchief, and took a deep breath; the flight of stairs already getting to her. Still, she gave her usual lovely smile to Ymir.

“The relationship was certainly kept under wraps. People have suspected that I’m dating someone, but they never could figure out who.” She chuckled to herself. “I can’t imagine how not, with the many times I locked myself in my husband’s office to help him with late night ‘paperwork’ back then,” she says with air quotes, grinning at the Cadets’ blushing faces in realization of what she meant.

“And when I finally fell pregnant, and the cat was out of the bag, people couldn’t believe who exactly I was dating either, much less that he’s the father of my child. ‘How could someone like him, be with someone like her,’ they would say,” the woman laughed.

Ymir-- who was positively charmed by their visitor’s warmth and bubbly energy-- scoffed in jest. After all, it only made sense for a lovely woman to fall in love with an equally lovely man.

“Please, you’re a perfect match for Commander Erwin!”

~

Meanwhile, walking along the Commander’s Corridor, Armin and Bertholdt—who joined them on the way after he finished his errand— had the unfortunate opportunity to spend the walk to Commander Erwin’s office listening to Reiner gush about how beautiful that pregnant visitor they just had was.

“The Commander’s one damn lucky bloke!” Reiner moans, a hand rubbing his face.

“Well what did you expect? Have you seen the Commander? Of course he’d have a gorgeous wife,” Bertholdt replies blandly, already tired of Reiner’s constant groaning.

“And maybe it’s best not to lust after the Commander’s pregnant wife, Reiner,” Armin reminds nervously, eyes darting around in case anyone were to hear Reiner adulations.

Reiner sighed, “You’re right. Besides, if I were husband to a woman like that, I’d make sure to get her pregnant. I’d go absolutely feral, I’d tell ya!” Reiner smirks, elbowing a wincing and a grossed out Armin and Bertholdt.

“Shut up Rei, I don’t want that image in my head,” Bertholdt deadpans.

“Okay be quiet now, we’re here.” Armin says, as the three stop in front of the Commander’s door.

Bertholdt went ahead and gave three respectful knocks.

Oddly enough, instead of the usual prompt reply of their usually prompt Commander, the cadets heard a series of muffled shuffling and a few bangs on wood. Then finally, came Erwin Smith’s—albeit slightly strained—baritone.

“Come in!”

Armin could’ve sworn he heard giggling after the Commander’s reply, but Bertholdt turned the knob and swung the door open nonetheless.

To their surprise, they found the Commander with none other than Petra Ral in his office.

“Is it just me or did we interrupt something?” Armin discreetly whispers to Reiner, eyeing the slightly disheveled appearance of their Commander as well as the hurriedly awkward way Petra is combing down her ginger hair.

“Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday, Sir. But we’d thought to let you know that you’re wife is here,” Bertholdt announces with a firm salute.

At his words, both the Commander and Petra look to each other with a funny look on their faces.

Confused, Erwin cocks a thick eyebrow. “I’m sorry, who?”

Back at the doorway, the three Cadets blink back. “Err… your wife, Sir?”

It was then that the boys heard a brisk tap on the still-open door behind them.

They pivot to see Squad Leader Miche by the door, smirking at them, and an utterly amused twinkle in his green eyes.

“Sorry to break it ‘ya, boys. But the Commander’s already with his wife,” Miche winked at a peeved Commander Erwin and the blushing ginger girl right beside him. Miche then gives the couple a woman’s name, telling them that she’s here. (He must’ve smelled her in the premises before anyone even had to tell him.)

Extremely puzzled, Reiner looks from the entertained look on the Squad Leader, to his Commander, and now apparently, to his Commander’s wife.

“Then who’s…?”

Before Reiner could finish, Miche simply threw his head back in a fit of laughter, as him and his newest piece of gossip to tell Hange, went on their merry way.

~

At the mezzanine, the woman stops.

“Commander Erwin?”

The woman blinked at the Cadets who have also stopped walking, looking back at her in confusion now.

She then turns to Ymir with a bewildered look on her face.

“Erwin isn’t my husband.”

“What? Then who are you here to—“

“Lieutenant Ackerman!”

At the sound of that unmistakable screech, the pregnant woman whirls and shrieks back.

“Hange!”

Excitedly, the bespectacled scientist ran over to the woman and gave her the tightest—but careful—of hugs. Immediately, Hange started fawning over her old friend.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mrs. Ackerman herself,” Hange says cheekily, as she went to hold her laughing friend’s hands. “Oh, look at you! Oh my goodness, you’re so big!” She exclaims giddily, gently rubbing the pregnant lieutenant’s belly.

Meanwhile, Christa stammers quietly. “D-did she just say… Lieutenant?”

“…Ackerman?!” Eren added, mouth open.

“Hell no.” Ymir gaped. There was no fucking way.

Beaming prettily, you giggled at Hange. “Well, I’m already at my third trimester!” You took a breath, and held Hange’s forearms. “It’s so good to see you again, Hange. I hope Levi didn’t sass you too much while I was gone.”

“Puh-lease! I’d say it’s Levi who’s had his hands full with me and my shenanigans since you’ve been gone,” Hange chuckles teasingly. She then tilts her head towards Eren and sighs dramatically, “I wouldn’t say the same about Jaeger over there, though.”

Now addressing Eren, Hange tells the Cadet, “Thank your lucky stars, Eren! You’re about to have a helluva stress-free weekend now that Levi’s wife is here!”

Still shocked, Eren just nods absently.

“Well, Lieutenant. I’m sure you’re here to see your Captain?” Hange loops her arms around the woman’s cheerfully. “I’ll take you to him! Let’s pass by Erwin and Petra along the way, I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

And off you two strolled, across the mezzanine and up the last flights of stairs onto the Commander’s Corridor, four flummoxed Cadets trailing behind you.

~

Reiner, Bertholdt, and Armin’s bafflement was broken by Petra’s squeal at the mention the woman’s name.

“She’s here?!”

Petra then flies out her husband’s office, the boys quickly getting out of her way. At the sight of her best friend at the end of the corridor, she calls out her name and goes, “About time you visited!”

Lieutenant Ackerman hugs Petra back, and soon enough, the three women were already thrilling about the Lieutenant’s pregnancy. Compliments on how glowing she looked, questions about how far along she was, how she was faring with the pregnancy, and if she had a clue about the baby’s gender flew about in giggles and sighs.

In a moment, Commander Erwin himself has followed Petra out to also engulf his subordinate-turned-good-friend in a warm hug.

~

At the side, Eren was still carrying your wicker basket. When he and the girls finally met up with Reiner, Bertholdt and Armin by the Commander’s office, Eren nudges Reiner sharply.

“She isn’t the Commander’s wife!”

“So we’re finding out,” Reiner grits out. Eren gives out some really painful jabs.

~

“Is it just me, or did your eyebrows get bushier, Erwin?” you tease.

“Shut up.” Erwin quips back, still hugging you. He looks down at you, smiling fondly, and feigning annoyance in his voice. “You’re lucky I missed you.”

When you finally separated, Erwin held your shoulders gently as he glanced to the flight of stairs you just traversed. “How are you and the baby? The stairs didn’t exhaust you too much did they?”

“We’re fine, and the stairs were nothing, don’t worry. I wasn’t handpicked by Humanity’s Strongest himself for nothing, you know,” You beam up at Erwin who was already nodding in relief.

“Good. Levi would kill me if I allowed you to get strained.”

You roll your eyes, “Levi fusses over me whether or not I get strained. But guess what, Commander,” you had a delicious sparkle in your eye.

“I made cake.”

And like a little kid, Erwin Smith gives a small pump of his fist; he’s always been a terrible sweet tooth. While Hange whoops in joy.

Petra looks to the new recruits who were watching the odd scene before them. It isn’t everyday they see their commanding officers act so ecstatic and carefree, after all. Incredibly far from the usual strict fashion their superiors would carry themselves. Commander Erwin, especially.

Smiling, Petra addresses the Cadets, “Look sharp, Cadets. You’re looking at one of the most exceptional sharpshooters in the three Walls! Graduated first in her class and everything. Even precedes me to the Special Ops Squad!”

“And the Scouting Legion’s finest Lieutenant,” Erwin added proudly, to which you only chuckled bashfully at, lightly swatting at his arm.

“But you kids can call her Lieutenant Ackerman,” Hange shrugged, grinning. Knowing exactly how Reiner, Bertholdt, and Armin would take the new information, despite her nonchalance.

And Bertholdt’s answer delivered just the reaction Hange anticipated.

“Wait. Did you just say--?”

“OI YOU RAT BASTARDS!”

Then like the rumbling thunder of an approaching storm, came Captain Levi Ackerman, stomping in with a smirking Miche just behind him.

And absolutely furious.

“What in the actual fuck made you brats think that letting my pregnant wife climb up the stairs was all fine and dandy?! I swear to sweet Sina’s shit, if something happened to—“

But something makes Levi stop in his tracks.

It was you. And oh, what a sight were you to behold.

The last time he saw you, your baby bump was only just showing. But in that moment, when you made that graceful turn of yours to peek up at him through your eyelashes, a playful smile dancing on your lips, Levi was convinced he must have married a goddess. A faerie woman who has quite utterly entranced him in a spell. A nymph who’s sly smile holds many a delicious promise to a simple man like him.

You looked absolutely divine with your full belly. And his wonderstruck burns deeper at the thought that it was his child that your beautiful body was growing; it elicits something primal in him. His wonderfully gorgeous wife was pregnant with his child, and Levi’s entire being ached to be near her. Ached to protect her and their baby; to provide them with everything their hearts desired.

Then Levi Ackerman quickens his pace to a sprint until finally, you were in his arms, safe and sound…

Until finally, he had you wrapped up in a kiss.

Furtively, Hange whispers to Ymir with a grin, “She’s always been the only who could calm him down.”

~

Once Levi was satisfied that he’s kissed his wife enough, he looked to you with warm eyes—warm eyes that no one else would see otherwise, if it weren’t for your presence smiling glowingly back at him.

His hands, so strong and calloused, wavered at your belly; hesitant that they might hurt the precious treasure within. Patiently, your soft hands took Levi’s hard ones—hands that have seen so much violence—and held them against the swell of your belly.

“It’s okay, Levi. Hold your baby.”

He held you so tenderly, so lovingly.

“Next time, don’t take the stairs. I’ll be coming down to you, no matter the time of day. ” Levi admonishes in a low voice, gunmetal eyes serious.

You just giggled at what the Cadets would think to be a fairly intimidating face, “You worry too much, darling. As if you haven’t trained me to be tough as nails.”

It could be nothing else but sorcery, the Cadets think. Absolute witchcraft! How in the world could this tiny woman turn the Captain’s temper up on its head just like that? They were like a tableau of the sun and the moon come together—a bright and bubbly girl, with a cold and aloof Captain. And much like the sun and the moon, one’s lightheartedness bounces off the other.

Now, Ymir understood why the Scouts couldn’t believe who she was dating back then. She couldn’t believe her eyes even as she watched Humanity’s Strongest himself envelop the woman in an embrace! But hey, Ymir was at least right with two things—Captain Levi’s lover is indeed both an angel and a bombshell of a woman.

Suddenly, Levi’s soft expression turns sour.

“I’ve also been filled in by Miche, you brats.” Levi’s menacing eyes flash to the Cadets that have accompanied his wife. A look which has promptly frozen the soldiers into attention.

“What kind of dimwit-loving maggot ate at your brains for you lot to think to bring her to Erwin’s office, huh?”

Briefly, Levi wondered if it was a breach of military decorum to smack these nitwits up the head for assuming his lovely wife was Erwin’s and not his.

The Cadets only stood frozen, not daring to say a word. The Captain certainly wasn’t a man whose anger they wanted to incite; even accidentally.

“Hey, hey, Levi, please,” you speak up, cupping your jealous (and adorable) husband’s cheek to make him face back to you, treating him once again to your tinkling laugh. “It’s my fault, I didn’t exactly introduce myself properly. Besides, it’s for the best. We both know that once you’ve got in me in your clutches, who knows when you’ll let me see Erwin and Petra anymore?”

And with your magic touch, the Captain visibly calms down. A little embarrassed (and blushing) that’s he’s been so easily rendered love-struck by his wife’s laughter, Levi sighs. He reaches to stroke the luscious locks of your hair, “And for good reason.”

Levi glares up at his blonde friend’s grinning face.

“He’s gonna finish up all the cake.”

~

Once the Cadets have been dismissed, you distribute the quaintly packaged boxes of cake to the Smiths, Hange, and Miche. Before you and Levi left for his office, Hange tells you to drop by her lab before leaving so that she can do a check-up on you.

“I know you have a good midwife and doctor back home, but you can never be too sure, eh? I also want to make sure you’re okay enough for the travel back.” She says to you and Levi, something you very much appreciated. You thanked her as Levi, after putting some serious thought into it, begrudgingly promised to bring you over despite the fact that it would leave him with even less time with you.

With an arm around your waist and a hand resting securely on your hip, Levi takes your wicker basket, and leads you to his office at the other end of the corridor. At the back of his mind, Levi knew that news of his wife would spread like wildfire now that the new recruits have met you. But he didn’t mind, because all he wanted was some much needed alone time with his wife.

Even now, on the way to his office, aides and squad leaders have already taken notice of you and the way he was holding you. Stares—both curious and disbelieving—followed them as these poor Scouts wrapped their heads around the fact that their fearsome Captain was being tender to a woman.

A woman who was delightedly telling him about the special carrot cake she made him—his favorite. As well as the artisan jasmine and ginseng teas you got him from Wall Sina. You even brought Levi’s favorite cleaning wax!

But when Levi finally had you behind his office door, all these treats were effectively forgotten. Because in a single husky order from your Captain, he’s got you melting like putty beneath his hands. Moaning his name and whimpering for him to come closer, to kiss you deeper.

And Levi, happily obliged.

~

The next morning when you woke up, your husband was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t alarm you though, knowing full well that as Captain, he often had a full schedule and has always liked to start his day early. So he’s probably somewhere working out, or overseeing training if he wasn’t in his office doing early morning paperwork.

And then something heavenly hits you. Something deliciously heavenly, to be exact.

You heard your stomach rumble, as the smell of butter, maple syrup, and freshly roasted nuts rouse you from bed and into your maternity clothes. With the morning dew still hanging in the air, you waddle across the courtyard to reach the mess hall where all the food you were craving was, when you heard a horse’s familiar neigh.

Looking up, you find Levi looking every inch the battle hero he was, as he gracefully rode on his great steed, Midnight, whom he’s slowed to trot and then finally to a halt beside you.

“Good morning, Captain,” you greet your husband cheekily.

“Good morning, why are you up so early?” Levi asks, thin eyebrows crunched together in concern. You haven’t even done up your hair yet.

Shyly, you bit your lip, and shrugged. “I got hungry.”

At that, Levi’s eyes widened in realization. Already mentally kicking himself that of course his pregnant wife would be craving for some food. He hasn’t lived with you for so long that he’s forgotten to ensure that you had breakfast by your bedside once you woke up.

‘Duh Levi, you dumbass,’ he thinks to himself

Quickly, he swings himself off his horse, and while firmly holding the reins, goes to you. He cups your face with an earnest and apologetic look in his face.

“I’m sorry, darling. I should’ve brought you up some food, you shouldn’t have had to come down.”

You give him a peck, “Shh, it’s alright. You wouldn’t have known which one I was craving for anyways. And exercise is good for pregnant women, Levi.”

Levi looks back to you softly. “Okay,” he concedes. “But you have to kiss me again.”

And so you did.

Passionately. Devotedly.

~

It would have been unmistakable to those who witnessed you and your Captain kiss as to exactly who you were to him. Especially once they’ve noticed your matching wedding rings and your very pregnant condition. And it was nice, you think, to finally be able to wear your heart on your sleeve around the man you love; free and unafraid of judgment after years of secret rendezvous and feigning innocence.

It was certainly a thrill for a young woman like you to have unexpectedly attracted the interest of her handsome, older, Captain. And not just any Captain, Humanity’s Strongest, no less! The flirting behind closed doors, heated gazes across rooms, the innuendos, and the whispered promises; it was all as if your life has turned into a novel.

But you and Levi prefer this—to love unrestricted, and for Levi especially, to care fuck all who saw him kissing his lovely wife.

Yet still, when Levi lead you to the mess hall where many Scouts were already having their early morning breakfast at, you once again felt like the foolish young lieutenant that’s gotten herself pregnant, and even worse, has lost the baby. The stares and whispers following you both as you entered the hall took you back to time where stares and whispers felt like a weapon against you. And for a while, walking into the mess hall was like walking into a battlefield with the way you had to hold your nerves together, and desperately tried not to freeze up.

You felt well and truly disgraced back then. There was no denying the quiet but stifling judgement of seemingly all seeing eyes that trailed the girl who dared let Levi Ackerman fall in love with her. Who dared be as careless as to lose their esteemed Captain’s baby, on top of pretty much being branded as a whore.

Of course, Captain Levi promptly and adamantly married you after you miscarried and were safe enough. Levi was the one who convinced you to at least take a break, if not to retire completely, from being a Scout in order for you to safely have your pregnancies. It would kill him, Levi said, if anything bad happened to you while on the job. And he’d be damned if he’d let even a sliver of a chance where you or your baby could get hurt. Not again.

And so while your ordeal as the Scouting Legion’s newest scandal has long since been a bad memory now, you still couldn’t help but anxiously and unconsciously walk a half step behind your husband in order to hide yourself behind him.

Noticing this, Levi takes your hand, and gives it a firm and reassuring kiss.

I’m right here, it said. You’re safe.

But the dread would soon dissipate, as Levi carefully lead you to a table where his squad was already beaming up at you in greeting, morning coffee in their hands.

“Lieutenant! Good morning!” calls out Eld. He was always a morning person.

“I knew you were here! The Captain hasn’t rang us for paperwork all night!” Oluo jibes good-naturedly.

“How’s the mini-Captain going along?” Gunther added smiling, referring to your big baby bump.

“You mean mini-Lieutenant,” Levi says to his squad pointedly. He’s always hoped for a girl. You once joked to him that he only wanted a girl because he wanted to be able to kick their daughter’s future boyfriends’ asses. Levi scoffed at you then, “No shit.”

You just rolled your eyes, “The baby is going along well, Gunther. Healthy and strong just like their father.”

At that, Levi kisses the top of your head tenderly. He then looks to his men, “She’s too good to me.”

Gunther and Oluo chuckle fondly while Eld just raises his coffee cup in salute, “Cheers to that, sir.”

Once you’re settled, Levi asks you quietly, “Will you be alright? I’ll just go and get your food for you.”

You smile up at your indulgent husband, “Yes, I’ll be alright. I’m sure Oluo’s itching to share me the latest gossip, anyways.” You then proceeded to tell Levi what you want to have. “I want the potatoes with lots of butter, okay?” You all but gave Levi your best puppy dog eyes, knowing that he’d protest at you wanting unhealthy food.

Alas, the Captain sighs in defeat. He can’t say no to what his pregnant wife wants. Especially when she looks at him like that. “Alright, fine. For the baby.”

You beam up and give him another peck, “Thank you, darling.” And off Captain Levi went, with you watching the confident strides of his retreating form.

“Who would have thought, huh?” Eld’s voice breaks your reverie. “That our very own Captain and Lieutenant would be married. With a baby on the way, no less!”

“Yeah,” Oluo chimes in. “Who would have thought-- our lovely Lieutenant and our err… less than lovely Captain,” he says patronizingly. Oluo, perhaps more than anyone, would agree that Levi is an exceptional man. But even he could recognize the funny little couple you and Levi made.

You pointed at him, looking past Gunther’s arm which was pouring you a cup of coffee. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

Soon enough, Oluo and Gunther started telling you the buzz now that the new recruits have met you. Apparently, the cadets have been convinced that Levi was dating Petra. So you were quite a surprise to them. Eld even tells you how some of the recruits that haven’t met you yesterday—Connie, Jean, and Sasha, he said their names were—even walked up to this table this morning with very determined faces, asking if it was all true.

And with that, you and your old squad just laughed, feeling very much at home with the company.

~

Levi decided not to comment on the knowing smirks that the cooks met him with as he requested for extra portions for his wife. Levi knew he was sight to behold— their formidable Captain, gathering as much food as he can for his pregnant wife.

Levi’s used to it all now, the surprised looks and the gaping stares of soldiers at the sight of his undeniably dazzling wife. He’s also used to the confused looks of eyes darting between him, then to his wife, and then back to him, as if the bastards were trying to compute fucking rocket science. And he gets it. Even he has to pinch himself sometimes that this isn’t all a dream; that he’s actually married to the most riveting woman in the Legion.

But as he walked back, tray of all your favorite food in hand, the sight of you laughing with a hand contentedly resting on your belly was all a man like him needed to be satisfied that you’re real. You’re here, you’re real, and you’re his.

Once he’s sat back down beside you, he can’t help but kiss your temple again.

“Eat up,” he says, and it nearly fucking kills him the way your eyes lit up at the sight of the food.

Fucking adorable.

There was once a time Levi was convinced that he would never be one to have a family. That things like that just aren’t meant for men like him. But seeing you happily doing your little dance at how delicious you thought the food was (a truly very funny sight, considering this is Scouting Legion Mess Hall food.) He wonders what other preconceptions Levi had that you, and now your new baby, would be shattering for him.

After all, it was his own little miracle that you chose to love him at all. And at that, Levi has to agree with everyone else—

Who would have thought, indeed.

A/N: I had so much fun with this one, as usual. Maybe too much fun. I guess I'm incapable of writing short fics huh? Also, my inbox has been filling up, and I'm thinking back on writing The Wingman and The Paramour again so I'll be closing requests.

But hey, if you have any thoughts and questions, do hmu! My ask box is always open, and I love talking to you guys. Far better than talking to myself, I'd say. lol.

Edit: Requests Re-opened! HERE are the rules!

Some colour swatches for the BG3 companions. Feel free to use as for art purposes, no credit necessary of course (though reblogs are appreciated!)

sugar and spice; all things nice

Sebastian Vettel x Fem!Reader 

Series Summary: It’s hard raising a child, let alone doing it as a single parent. When young two girls become attached at the hip from day one, it’s like faith forced them together. You could say the same for their parents. 

Author’s Note: this is an idea that was swirling around for a bit and thanks to @estevries​ for their encouragement to write chapter one - I’m not sure how long this will run but you know me and my chaos. updates will come as they will <3

taglist is full! I do apologize to anyone who wanted to tagged now //  character synopsis

Keep reading