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arteastica · 3 months

Text

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (23)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (24) | (25)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.5k

“C-commander, you’re going to make me c-come.” You warned for the last time before letting yourself go. Where? Well, that was for him to decide, because your legs had stopped responding a long time ago. But you didn’t need them anyway; with his nails buried in your back and his dick, deep between your legs, you weren’t going anywhere. At least not anywhere he didn’t decide.

Like a starved soul waiting to be spoon-fed, you opened your mouth wide, a silent moan escaping your lips as you were about to taste the sweet orgasm he had so prettily gift-wrapped for you. Indulgent like thick cocoa in oversized cups, comforting like cinnamon upon custard, forbidden like molasses at midnight, or messy like melting ice cream dripping down your fingers. What would he taste like today?

You would’ve found out, if only he had stayed.

Because, without allowing time for confusion or emptiness to happen, he pulled out, slipped his arm under your waist, and turned you around, making you sit back up on the desk, where you finally came eye to eye with him, and the sweaty streaks of sunshine sticking to his forehead despite the unforgiving temperatures lurking outside your window.

His breathing was labored and ragged, like an elaborate quilt. Warm. Homelike. Handmade. But that was something you both had in common. Your chests, rising and falling against each other; your faces, so close you were stealing each other’s oxygen; his lips, hovering over yours, reminding you of butterflies fluttering around a marigold garden; making you realize how long it had been since the last time you kissed; and your folds, desperately dripping and clenching around the overwhelming emptiness, reminding you of how ready you were for that to change.

You lifted a hand up to his face, pulling him closer; your eyes staring into his, blue like the sky after a storm.

Or perhaps, the storm was just on its way.

Strong arm still wrapped around your waist, he smoothly glided back into you; his lush eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, and his mouth hanging slightly open, as your walls squeezed his swollen member. Suffocating him. Just the way he liked it.

Feeble, sheepish whimpers escaped your lips at the gentle intrusion. As gentle as the raindrops now tapping on the window, announcing the last rainfall of the winter.

Or maybe, the first one of the spring.

“I’m sorry.” He grunted against your lips, before finally closing the distance between you.

And even if he hadn’t spelled out the words for you, you could taste them in his kiss. You could taste it all, even though the tea you had prepared for him remained untouched at the other end of the desk. You could taste the lemon, bitter like regret, yet also fresh like new beginnings. And there was also the honeycomb, nostalgic like a sunset, yet sweet like the waltz your tongues were dancing inside your mouth. A slow, gentle waltz under the rain. His tongue, in perfect synchrony with whatever magic his dick was performing inside you, making you moan against his lips, just in case he didn’t know how good he was making you feel.

And the sensation of your mouth stuffed with his tongue and your pussy, with his cock, quickly became too overwhelming for your poor body to bear; your insides crumbling like sand as a sinking feeling took over. Not the type that precedes a bad day however, but the floaty, funny type you always experienced when jumping from treetops during ODM practice. And even though you were perfectly safe there, held in place by his arm around your waist, and your legs around his hips, you felt like you were free-falling, plummeting down into something unknown. And like so, you pulled away, deciding to wrap your arms around his neck instead, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder, where you felt the safest.

“Me too.” You whispered against the damp collar of his shirt. “I promise there’s no one else, Erwin.” Finally able to lay your worries down on his chest, as you let your weight fall against him. “Only you.” And you felt his grip tighten at your words, bringing you impossibly closer to him. “Yes, I’m yours. Only yours. A-always yours.” You repeated over an over, answering the question his cock was relentlessly asking, as it stabbed you repeatedly. “I belong to you and no- no one else mmmhh~ I don’t want anyone else inside me but you.” You closed your eyes, now saturated with tears, not knowing if it was because of how much you missed him, or because of how big he was.

But whatever the reason, your words caused his thrusts to hasten, and his nails to bury even deeper in the thick flesh around your hips, burning your skin like the hot iron they use to mark animals. And you called his name for good measure, just in case he needed further confirmation that you were his. You called his name as repeatedly as the drops falling from the sky outside. You called his name as fireworks exploded all over your body; your back arching against the muscular arm he kept around you, your head thrown all the way back, and your breasts in full display, like a ceremonial feast offered to a king.

And when your muscles stopped spasming, you collapsed on him, desperately gasping for air against his neck, as if you had just come back to life after almost drowning. And you honestly didn’t know if the moisture on his shirt was coming from his skin or your eyes.

While your forehead took a much needed rest against his shoulder, you looked down to find him still buried into you, your sweet nectar spilling out of your hole, dripping down his thighs like honey, messily sliding down the glossy wood of his desk.

And you looked up at him through heavy eyelids, a fucked out smile on your lips, silently asking if he too found it beautiful, the mess you had created. And this time, for the first time in days, he smiled too. His hand temporarily leaving the abused skin of your hips to tuck sweaty strands behind you ear.

Please fuck me again.

“Please stay.” You requested softly, clenching around him, hoping he wouldn’t pull out. Hoping things would stay as they were right now. Between the two of you. Trapped in your little bubble. His eyes like the clear sky reflected in a stream, like gentle sun rays tickling your skin, on a Sunday morning, just a little before noon.

I love you. Your lips quivered, tempted to let the words spill. I love you, Commander. But you didn’t want the bubble to burst. You wanted to stay forever trapped inside with him. Together. As one.

I love you, Erwin.

“Please keep making love to me.”

I love you so much.

He placed a soft kiss on your lips just as his hips started to move again. Unhurriedly, gently, indulgently. Like stirring thick cocoa together, by the kitchen window, on a snowy night.

You held his face as he sucked on your bottom lip, as his tongue savored all his favorite flavors on yours, as his lips condensed a million thoughts into a moment. And not long after, when the pace of his thrusts hastened again, you pulled away, not wanting to miss a second of his face when he came, something so captivating and artistic it belonged in a museum. Truly a masterpiece. His temples covered with salty dew as he panted for air, forehead resting against yours. And you had never been this grateful for the unforgiving training that scouts had to go through. You had never been this grateful for that early morning run he never skipped. Because there was no doubt in your mind that he could fuck you all night long. You had no stamina left, but he did, and that’s all that mattered. After all, his body was the one doing all the hard work, and yours just needed to bounce and react.

“Command-”

“I missed you.” As breathless as you currently were, your heart couldn’t afford the luxury of skipping a beat. Yet it did, your entire body choosing to stay silent, just in case he said it again. Because, the thing is, you really needed to hear those three words again. From those very lips that were now hovering over yours. “I missed you so bad.” He ran his thumb across your cheek, his touch as soothing as the gentle breeze from a faraway childhood summer. “Those days were the worst.” He paused, intently scanning your features as if carving them inside his memory. “Realizing I was no longer on the receiving end of that smile.” His thumb found your bottom lip, and caressed it gently. “Asking myself if I was losing you every time you closed the door behind you.”

“Erwin.” His sweet name on your lips, and salty droplets on your eyes. “I want to be with you.”

Forever. You added in your head, remembering the cabin in the woods. By the stream, a faraway windmill as your closest neighbor, the climbing hydrangea guarding the door, and the stepping stones leading up the hill, where the sycamore was always waiting, in front of the snow-capped mountains, the wooden swing below and its musical creak, its only company. Forwards, backwards, forwards and then backwards again. Never getting tired. And neither do you. But how could you? Waking up next to him every day, his bare back beneath the morning light; and making love, your only plan for the weekend. And if it only existed in a fantasy, why could you describe it in such detail? If it wasn’t in your future, then why could you see it all? Smell it all. Hear it all.

Feel it all.

“So do I.” He answered, his eyes like a sunlit lake, and his eyebrows like the evergreen foliage surrounding it.

“Erwin.” You used his name again, as if it was a promise; your voice impossibly breathy as his hips continued its satisfying dance, that by now had grown more and more erratic, telling you that it was near. You could tell, even if words didn’t forecast it: The cloudburst about to happen between your legs.

He buried his nails even deeper in the abused flesh of your hips, presumably looking for some form of stability as his movements became more and more unsteady. And he was so hard it must hurt. So hard you had to stare, not wanting to miss a second of that spectacular finale: his rich, indulgent cream, the sweet result of your lovemaking, a recipe you had created together, splattering everywhere like fresh paint once he pulled out.

But the thing is, he wasn’t pulling out. You looked back up at him, searching for an explanation, not wanting to get your hopes up, since you didn’t know how ephemeral his mistake would be. But it didn’t look like a mistake. Not when he was staring at you like that, so intently, as if he was fully aware of his actions.

You looked down again. He was going to come; there was no doubt. You felt it inside, and it would happen any time now.

“You look the prettiest when you’re happy.” He said all of a sudden, his voice a mixture of grunts and labored breaths, and his lips curving into the sweetest smile he had given you yet. And maybe it was that, or the window behind him, or the fact that it had also been raining back then, but your mind traveled to the very first day you met. So many nights ago. He had told you to come in, and then apologized for how boring and repetitive your days were about to get. All while smiling, just like today.

Oh, if only you knew back then.

“I want to make you happy.” He said, his eyes wrapping your naked body like the softest of silks, and his smile feeling like a promise, one you couldn’t wait to kiss.

“You already do.” You replied, voice filled with sweet adoration, just mere seconds before he collapsed on you, forehead resting against your shoulder, as you ran soothing fingers through his hair, completely drenched, almost as if he had been fucking you under the pouring rain instead.

I love you. “You did so well for me.” You whispered against his forehead, holding him like you wished you could for the rest of your days, and closed your eyes, enjoying the tickling of his breath against your neck, as well as that of his warm cream sliding down your belly. Someday, maybe in the not so distant future, it would be inside instead.

Or maybe not.

But you didn’t feel like entertaining uncertainty tonight. Not when you finally had him in your arms like this.

“I’m sorry.” He said, and the words tickled the sensitive skin of your neck. His fingertips were drawing soothing patterns on the tender flesh of your hips, but the tone of his voice told you that bruises and hickeys weren’t the only thing he was apologizing about.

“Erwin, I swear there’s nothing between him an-”

“Shhh.” He hushed you softly, leaving his comfortable spot on the crook of your neck so he could look into your eyes. His cheeks were so red, perhaps from being under the sun all day. But you liked to think it was from fucking you so hard just moments ago. “It was never your fault, yet I blamed you for it without even asking you first.”

“You can ask me now.”

“You already gave me your answer.” He smiled, and even though you still wondered what had led him to believe there was something between you and Leon, you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tight and pushing the question to the back of your mind. Your eyes closed, and your cheek resting against his shoulder. Maybe you could try asking him again some other time.

“I’m sorry too.” You said, and even though you were only wearing your underwear, in his embrace, you had no complaints about the cold. “For pulling away all of a sudden, for leaving you in the dark.”

“You can tell me now.”

“Not now.” But maybe some other time. Because, like you said, you didn’t feel like bursting the bubble with your explanations and concerns.

And maybe you were on the same page, because he didn’t pry any further. Instead, he silently caressed your bruised hips and thighs. “I promise I’ll be more gentle next time.”

Next time. You liked that. You liked how those words sounded on his lips.

You took a look at the red skin his fingertips were tracing, skin that would surely be turning purple in the coming days, and smiled teasingly, realizing you hadn’t felt playful in a long time, so the feeling was as foreign as it was welcome. “I guess someone did miss me, after all.”

“You have no idea.” He replied, wistfulness in his words, as you pulled him back to your chest.

next chapter

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arteastica · 9 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (1)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters). no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.1k

One could say it was the most important night of that summer. Even the cloudless sky had allowed the stars to witness the scene unfolding beneath, and only the occasional barking of faraway dogs interrupted the silence. It was the night decisions were awaiting to be made. The type of life-defining decisions that no teenager should ever be expected, or rather forced, to make. Luckily for you, you were a couple of years ahead, ahead enough to not be considered a teenager anymore. And maybe this was the reason why looking around and seeing the tightly clenched fists, trembling jaws, and sweaty foreheads of your 15-year-old Training Corps classmates made you realize that you honestly didn’t know what you were doing in the middle of it all.

The choice was simple for those who actually had one. As it was tradition, the top ten students of the class would be allowed to choose the best out of the three options presented: to join the Military Police and enjoy the safety and commodities that came with life in the innermost wall, to settle for a more humble lifestyle by doing whatever it is that they do in the Garrison, or to put their lives in the line for humanity in the Survey Corps. With young brains still under construction, no one could be trusted to make the right call. The definition of ‘right call’ being ‘one you wouldn’t regret years in the future, or next week when a titan had you in their grip.’ However, you believed that joining the Military Police came with significantly lower risks of regret. And that’s why the MP was the one you were aiming for. Or would have, if you were part of that coveted top 10. That would have been ideal.

Ideal. In an ideal world, no one would have to make such a crucial decision at that age. In fact, there wouldn’t even be crucial decisions to make, in the first place. But this wasn’t an ideal world. It was far from that. A quick glance around at the faces you had gotten used to seeing for the last 3 years was enough of a reminder, in case you had forgotten. But who could forget? All of them standing next to you had either lost someone or everyone precious in their lives when the Wall fell. Luckily for you, however, you had your immediate family alive and well in the capital. And although you didn’t own enough wealth to be accepted into the social circles of the rich, you lived a comfortable life, and most importantly, a safe one. That’s why it came as a shock to your family when you enlisted as a-

“We will reach that basement in Shiganshina. However, this requires us to retake Wall Maria”

Retake what? Your backstory was left pending for another night. Because, before you could start narrating it to yourself, a solemn, modulated voice pulled you out of your thoughts, your head instinctively turning to the stage to locate the source. And that was the first time you saw him: The 13th commander of the Survey Corps, Erwin Smith himself.

“But with the Trost gate permanently sealed, we’ll have to take the long way around from Karanes in the east”

You had heard stories about Erwin Smith. A man of unyielding drive, an iron-willed leader, a liberator, you believed you heard someone called him once. And of course there was also ‘reckless’, ‘demented’, and ‘out of it’, all of which were adjectives commonly tied to his name, especially in the capital. ‘Insane’ was your father’s preferred one, usually heard around dinner time when the topic of Erwin Smith’s latest outrageous expedition somehow found its way into the family table. And you remembered feeling sorry for the man on more than one occasion. Because, from the safety of your Sina home, the closest titan surely miles away, as you fluffed pillows and slipped under warm blankets of undisturbed rest, you had struggled to think of anyone living a more different lifestyle to yours than the commander of the Survey Corps, that one man relentlessly trying to attain the unattainable: to free humanity from the walls.

“It seems the four years we spent preparing a route for an invasion force have gone to waste”

And that night he also seemed to be trying to attain the unattainable: convincing a group of frightened individuals to join a suicide squad.

“In those four years, more than sixty percent of the Legion’s forces lost their lives”

You wondered if there was at least a single easy thing in the man’s life.

“Sixty percent in four years. An insane figure”

His voice was controlled and pleasant to listen to. Even though the things he was talking about were far from pleasant. Life scouting beyond the walls sounded as rough as it probably was. And you guessed that there was no way to make it sound appealing, no silver linings to be mentioned or talked about.

“Any trainees who join us will participate in next month’s expedition beyond the walls”

You had heard that his branch was in desperate need for new recruits, yet you could tell he had decided to let honesty do the talking that night. Because not even when discussing the dire prospect of survival of a Survey Corps member…

“We estimate thirty percent will not return”

…not even then he seemed tempted to make false promises.

“And in four years, most new recruits will be dead”

In fact, the more he spoke, the more honest and raw his words seemed to get. And while, so far, he hadn’t mentioned a single appealing thing about joining his cause, you felt you were beginning to understand it…

“But those who make it through that hell will become superior soldiers, capable of surviving anything”

You see, you had heard all the stories, but you had never seen the man before. And rumors had left out the part about how compelling he was. As he extended an open invitation to a potentially deadly celebration, his voice had a commanding yet gentle feel to it, the type associated with reliable leaders. He had an enthralling demeanor to him, the one that’s used to persuade. His words were softly spoken but rose-thorn sharp. There was something about him, the way he spoke, and carried himself. Erwin Smith certainly looked like someone who could talk the winter into skipping a year, or the rain into waiting until he got home. So yes, you were starting to get it...

“Now you have the cold, hard facts.”

After all the contemplations, it finally clicked.

“Any still willing to risk their lives, remain here.”

It makes sense you thought, why men followed him to their deaths.

“Ask yourselves, am I willing to offer my beating heart for humanity?”

Why they ‘dedicated their hearts’ as they say.

“That is all.”

Erwin Smith was intriguing. Very intriguing.

“All of you wishing to join other branches are dismissed.”

Muffled footsteps brought you back from the realm of thought. You looked around to find the previously full plaza now more than half-empty. You could hear Reiner’s heavy breathing beside you. Jean fiddling with his shirt behind you. Sasha clicking her teeth to your left. And despite the close proximity between your bodies, it all sounded so distant. As if you had been thrown underwater.

“Are you willing to die if I ordered to?”

Erwin Smith’s question, on the contrary, felt as if it had been whispered right into your ear. It felt personal and targeted. And for a brief second you forgot that, although almost everyone had already left, you were still not the only one in the plaza.

I don’t want to die. You answered in your head.

“I like the looks on your faces” You heard him say.

I don’t want to die. You repeated as you picked up your pace to catch up to Hitch at the entrance of the plaza.

“What took you so long?” she asked when you finally joined her.

“I hereby welcome you all to the Survey Corps!”

You heard Erwin Smith’s voice, now nothing more than a faint sound blending with the rustling leaves and getting carried away by the wind, as you and Hitch made your way back to the barracks.

“Did you hear almost all the top students joined the Survey Corps last night?” Hitch sounded particularly excited and jolly that morning. A huge smile plastered on her face.

“Did they?” You didn’t want to let yourself get too hopeful. But Hitch’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“Yep! And you know what that means right?” Your roommate gave you a cheeky grin “There might be a spot left for us at the MP after all!”

You were sure there most certainly was a spot for Hitch. But for you, that was a whole different story. You were no Mikasa. You were no Reiner. And given the fact that your physical capabilities were pretty average, even a little below that on bad days, you were certain you weren’t even in the top 20.

“Jeez. Woman, please look excited! We are set for life!”

She is set for life. “I’m not sure I’ll make the cut. It was the physical aptitude test-”

“Who cares? To hell with that test. What would you need stamina for inside Wall Sina anyway? I heard they don’t even use ODM in the MP. In our first year, maybe we’ll have to run after one of those random idiots who steal papayas from the street stalls, but I’m sure we can manage that much”

You laughed at the thought “You catch him. I’ll write the report”

“Deal!” she said “but once we climb up the ranks…” her eyes lit up with ambition as a result of whatever was going through her head. And you could tell she was plotting something questionable. But before you could start prying she added “Plus you did well everywhere else.”

She was right. While your physical performance wasn’t necessarily stellar, your academics were very good. As an overthinker, often worrying too much about too many, you overstudied for tests like no one in your class did, and your efforts often resulted in excellent marks.

“You’re right. Everyone save Shadis left something nice in my report card. Nothing personal, I’m sure”

Hitch nodded enthusiastically, clearly satisfied with herself because her words were having the effect she intended. And they really were, your head was starting to pitch more and more ideas to support the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you would be able to join the Military Police.

“You know what? You’re right, Hitch. We’ll join the MP and we’ll be on our way to the capital tomorrow.”

Wrong. Later that day, as you held the application paper in one hand, fountain pen in the other, you couldn’t help but snort when imagining how foolish you must have looked that morning, believing you would be back home as a member of the MP brigade. But there was no use in reminiscing now. You needed to focus and make the second best choice.

But focus for what? The only available options for you were the Garrison and the Survey Corps. And the choice was plain and obvious, wasn’t it? The Garrison wasn’t cool or anything but it was safe. Except, of course, for that incident from a couple of weeks ago, when that random titan showed up again, and tried to obliterate Trost District. Luckily for you, however, you had been assigned to assist with the relocation of the citizens once they entered Wall Rose, so you didn’t even have to see any titan at all. That had been a rare occurrence. And with the Survey Corps, the chances of survival were significantly lower. Zero for someone with your physical capabilities.

Are you willing to die if I ordered to?

Erwin Smith’s words from the night before showed up uninvited.

Those who make it through that hell will become superior soldiers, capable of surviving anything.

You could hear his solemn voice loud and clear, even one day later.

I like the look on your face.

Your hand now hovered dangerously over the ‘Survey Corps’ box, centuries worth of handed-down survival instincts forgotten in the blink of an eye.

I don’t want to die.

Your brain repeated as a last resort, right before the ink found the paper.

I don’t want to die.

Now it sounded like a complain more than a petition.

I hereby welcome you to the Survey Corps.

You heard him say, somewhere inside your head, as you turned in your application and walked away.

next chapter

194 notes · View notes

arteastica · 2 months

Text

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (25)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 6.6k

Lord Koch started to prove you wrong the moment you walked through the ivy-covered gates of his suburban estate, early-blooming wisterias cascading down the fence and conspiring with the honeysuckles to conceal the impassable iron wall, making it look more like the secret back door to some fairytale garden than the main entrance to a wealthy family’s homestead. You had expected dozens of solicitous footmen, perhaps some even hired for the occasion only, busily striding around the gardens, flocking towards the guests with fizzy drinks on their trays and welcoming smiles on their faces, politely offering to help with their frock coats and dainty parasols. Just as it was expected at any other Sunday gathering in Mitras. Or Saturday, in this case.

Instead, the only ones greeting the guests at their arrival were the imposing cedars flanking the sunlit path that led to the placid, flawlessly circular pond in the middle of the main garden. After that, guests were on their own, left to figure out, or finger guess depending on each individual’s personal approach, which one of the sprawling paths before them could possibly take them to the place where distant violins, faint laughters and the soft clinking of glasses could be heard coming from.

It was clear that whoever got invited to the celebration should’ve been there previously, perhaps numerous times, and therefore, well-acquainted with the Kochs. Acquainted enough to know their way around the property and the complex system of azalea shrubs spreading in all sorts of confusing directions, flowering under the sun as their glossy leaves danced in the wind, something more like a maze than a garden. And you couldn’t help but feel that a map should’ve been provided with the invitation, or at the entrance at the very least, because there was no way a stranger like you could find the courtyard mentioned in the invitation all by themselves. And for a moment, a silly idea crossed your mind, maybe this was some sort of task Lord Koch had designed so the guests could prove themselves worthy of attending his party. It seemed like he wanted only his true friends there on that special day. But luckily for you, your father was there to lead the way.

Amidst the excitement leading up to that special day, you had forgotten about your father, your head completely monopolized by the thought of your first date with the Commander, because… yes, that’s right, in your head, this was about you and him, and not about Lord Koch and his birthday. He already had forty nine of those for heaven’s sake, but this…this was a first for you and the Commander; the charity ball clearly not counting because, one, you hadn’t been together in that sense back then, and two, you had attended as his assistant and not his ‘princess’. So it was no wonder that, between choosing your dress, the right underwear, and daydreaming about dancing head-on-his-chest all afternoon, you had been unable to reach the obvious conclusion that your parents would most likely be attending the reception too. And it was not until you arrived home the previous night, completely unannounced and looking to surprise them, that you ended up surprised instead when your mother excitedly broke out the news during dinner.

And your father was particularly thrilled about finally getting to meet the Commander of the Survey Corps, ‘the man who saved my daughter’s life’ in his own words. He was arguably more thrilled about it than about the apple toddies, and that was a huge claim to make considering how many of those he was known to chug down on a single evening. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited yourself, not about the toddies, which by the way you weren’t sure they would be serving when it was barely ten in the morning, but about everything else. Sleep had evaded you for the most part of the previous night, your stomach swarmed with colorful butterflies that resembled the ones now fluttering above the Koch’s blooming azaleas, and your heart gleefully springing inside your chest at the thought of him meeting your parents.

You knew it was not like he would be asking for your hand in marriage right there in the middle of Lord Koch’s courtyard. They would probably shake hands, maybe share a drink or two while your father expressed his gratitude, and then walk separate ways without asking your parents for their blessing. But, it’s just that… you couldn’t help it…it all felt so official all of a sudden.

Yes, admittedly, no one else in this world, besides Hitch, knew about the things the two of you would do behind the closed doors of his office, but…What did he think people would say once they saw you together at the party? This was not work-related, this was not some formal event he was required to attend as the Commander of the Survey Corps. It was just his friend’s birthday lunch, an occasion that didn’t call for the presence of his assistant. And, once your favorite ballad came on and you found yourselves slow dancing under some wisteria pergola, your hand resting in his, and your head, on his shoulder…did he think people would just shrug their shoulders and look the other way thinking ‘yep, that’s his assistant’?

Before asking you to come, had he considered the possibility that once they saw him pull your chair out, helping you in like the gentleman he is, possessive hand resting on the small of your back and your lips smiling lovingly at the gesture…people would undoubtedly start asking questions about the nature of your relationship?

Like you knew your parents were.

You didn’t know what they were thinking, but you knew they were thinking something. Your mother was too well-versed and frighteningly skilled at concealing her thoughts, she was too proficient in the occult arts of vanishing any trace of emotion from her face within seconds, before anybody noticed anything, no matter how shocking or scandalous the news were. However, you saw the look of surprise in her eyes when you told her who you’d be attending the reception with. It was brief and you had almost missed it, but it was there nonetheless. She hadn’t said anything, but there were signs. She hadn’t asked questions, but you knew she wondered. You knew she did, just like many at the party would.

So, all things considered, how could you blame yourself for feeling this was official? How could you get mad at yourself for believing this was some sort of announcement? Yes, subtle and silent, but an announcement regardless. And you were loving every second of it. As evidenced by the beaming smile you wore as you stepped into Lord Koch’s courtyard, the pistachio-colored tulle of your dress joyfully dancing in the balmy spring breeze.

You had chosen open shoulders for the occasion, a symmetrical hemline falling all the way down to your ankles, and dainty flower embroidery to harmoniously blend in with all the pansies and forget-me-nots of the garden. Oh, and no open slits this time because your mother was also coming.

The top was narrow and fitted, gradually widening out from the waist into a relaxed skirt, and you had skipped the puffy petticoat because you didn’t want Lord Koch to think you were trying to steal attention from him.

Your favorite part of the dress was undoubtedly the long puffy sleeves that fell all the way down to your wrists, made of semitransparent tulle and adorned with small, pretty butterflies that perfectly matched the blue ones on the pin your mother had kindly placed on your hair before leaving the house.

Considering the carriage he had driven to the base last winter, you could be forgiven for expecting nothing less than an equally opulent and effusive display of wealth on Lord Koch’s end, and make no mistake, the courtyard of his manor was a display of wealth in every sense of the word, just not the extravagant type. Somehow, it managed to be well-mannered and even unassuming at times.

His house was more like a castle than anything else, yet there was a comforting sincerity in the clear crystal windows and the way they would reflect the gentle morning sun; a graceful spontaneity in the wildflowers and the way they would grow in the most unexpected of places, whether it was a crack on the wall or inside the stone fountain at the entrance of the garden.

The wise willow, towering over the pond at the far end of the meadow, brought effortless elegance into an already gracious scene, and the glasshouse keeping it company looked like the type of place you’d love to spend a whole summer in, with a cold lemonade and a good book in hand, even if you didn’t enjoy reading that much.

It was there in the courtyard where you understood why there was no staff positioned at the estate’s entrance. Turns out they were all here, in the inner garden, one hand tucked behind their back and the other skillfully balancing silver plates, as they gracefully dodged the puffy skirts of the ladies and the walking canes that the gentlemen loved to sway around when gesticulating.

And you had to give it to the waiters, the feat they were pulling was almost acrobatic, considering how packed the garden was. The number of guests before your eyes, throwing their heads back laughing while joyfully toasting to each other’s prosperity, convincingly attested to Lord Koch’s remarkable popularity. He surely had a lot of people he could call friends, and you knew it was going to be pretty challenging to locate the one specific friend you were looking for.

You glanced around on your tiptoes and off into the multitude, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was going to take some time to find him, so you figured you’d better start now. You turned around to let your parents know, only to realize the crowd had swallowed them too. Figuring you’d run into them sooner or later when lunch was served, you took a deep breath and ventured into the sea of people, trying to stay out of the waiters’ way and making it past smiling faces you’d seen at multiple other parties throughout the years, albeit now they looked slightly different, and older, than they did back then.

As you politely nodded back to a friendly-looking lady whose eyes seemed unable to leave your dress, it hit you that you hadn’t mingled like this in a while. After spending what some would call ‘the better years of your life’ in training camp, and right after that, moving to the middle of the forest for the Survey Corps, you hadn’t attended a birthday party in like forever.

Not much had changed though, at least not when it came to the way you felt about events like this one, and certainly not when it came to the way they made you feel. The anxious drumming in your chest was still ever-present, and the uncontrollable need to fiddle with your hair whenever you felt a stranger’s eyes on you was very much still a reflex action. You didn’t know if it was because of the same reasons as you, but you felt like you understood Captain Levi and why he disliked such gatherings. You weren’t close with him at all, but maybe someday you could bond over this and your appreciation for good tea, who knows?

You grabbed a tantalizingly golden tartlet from a nearby waiter as he walked past you. As expected, only the food made these kind of experiences worth it. The food and, in this particular occasion, him, of course.

You nodded in delight as the caramelized pear melted in your mouth, simultaneously satisfying both your sweet tooth and all the butterflies in your stomach in a single bite. Buttery, flaky and unexpectedly rich. Once you moved to the cabin in the woods, you would prepare pear tartlets like this one for him too. The comforting smell of home-baked love escaping through the open kitchen window, riding on the gentle spring breeze as it caressed your cheeks just the way it was right now in the middle of the courtyard garden.

Our little cabin. You smiled, looking around to find the man you dreamed to share it with.

And you saw Leon, standing under the shade of the breezeway not too far from you, back resting against a pillar and a rose-colored liquid in his glass as he conversed with a tall, auburn-haired lady.

You waved at him from afar when his eyes accidentally met yours, and, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, limited your interaction to a smile. However, being the welcoming soul you’d known him to be, he invited you to join him and his companion by mouthing a silent ‘Do you have time?’

As you made your way to him, you exchanged smiles with the lady he was with. She was young, very young, as suggested by her round face and the plump, dewy cheeks that came with it, which you were certain would bounce like jelly under your finger. She appeared to be in her twenties too, although her small, button-like nose and other angelic features made you suspect she was a little younger than you.

Her fitted, velvet dress hugged her body in ways only custom-made dresses could, and the hunter green skirt, flawlessly accentuating the reddish-browns of her hair, reminded you of the winged cloak you would wear every day back at the base. The dark color, as well as the narrow, tight maturity of the dress contrasted the innocence present in her soft features. Features that were just as warm as Leon’s, especially when coupled with the welcoming smile she was gifting you with.

“My lady.” Leon’s soft lips greeted the back of your hand as it was quickly becoming tradition whenever you met. “I fail to identify the nature of the spell you cast on us, and forgive me if talks of witchcraft and sorcery come off as wicked or impudent in any way, but supernatural powers are the only acceptable explanation as to why your beauty seems to intensify with every passing season.”

You were only able to giggle, his convoluted compliment reaching your ears and pleasantly tickling your confidence.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Leon, and you happen to own the kind of eyes that only see the good in everyone and everything. But thank you, I’m flattered.” You admitted as he let go of your hand. “And I believe we agreed to use each other’s given names?”

“He completely refused to use my given name until, I believe… the seventh year into our relationship was it?” The angelic-looking lady turned to Leon, her head adorably tilting to the side in thought, and you couldn’t help but find it satisfying: The way her honey voice was just as melodious as you’d imagined the sounds made by those beautiful lips would be.

“My lady, this is my good friend Angelika.” Leon said, gracefully signaling to his left. “Perhaps you are already acquainted with each other, since you both live in the same ward.”

Angelika. You couldn’t help but smile at the gratifyingly fitting name. The leaf-shaped brooch on her hair looked a lot like a family crest, and the diamonds embedded all around it, as well as the ‘double-u’ engraved in the center, told you that she descended from a noble lineage, as you suspected at least half of the partygoers did. But what really called your attention was the prismatic moonstone decorating her delicate beauty bones, perfectly shaped like a raindrop, and making you wonder if the occult was among her interests.

“Oh please, Leon, the northern ward is just as big as my father’s ego.” She joked, taking your hand into hers, dainty and covered in satin all the way down to her elbows. “Truly a pleasure, my lady.”

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Angelika.” You returned the gorgeous smile she was offering.

Lady Angelika was endearing in a dignified, elegant way; and you couldn’t help but notice that her expressive hazel eyes went well together with the enchanted forest Leon had in his, much like the honey pistachio loaf your mother would bake every year in the fall.

And it was not only their eyes that complemented each other, but the atmosphere surrounding them as well. Much like the sparkling stream running down the meadow behind them, and the horses leisurely grazing along its waters, there was a natural authenticity to them. One you would have undoubtedly remembered had you been around it before, especially considering Lady Angelika’s remarkable grace.

“My lady, you ought to stop looking at me like that or I might start questioning my personal preferences.” She joked, a smile on her lips and your hand still on hers. “And I’m afraid ten in the morning on a Saturday is too early to have that type of conversation.”

“Oh, please forgive me.” You chuckled lightly, letting go of her hand. “I was just wondering if you were aware of the power that moonstone holds.”

She reached for the gemstone hanging around her neck “Oh this? Of course, Leon gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.” She explained as her fingers caressed it fondly. “He bought it from a witch down south. Apparently she found it right in the center of the footprint left by that gigantic titan who destroyed Wall Maria.” You felt your whole body tensing up at her words. “You know, the first time it appeared. She believes it used this moonstone to make itself invisible, that’s the only logical explanation as to how a creature of such colossal measures managed to appear and disappear into thin air without anyone seeing it coming.”

Your throat felt impossibly tighter all of a sudden, all incoming air failing to reach your lungs. You didn’t necessarily believe moonstones granted anyone the power of invisibility, neither the ability to wander around only in spirit, and you had meant the question as a lighthearted joke, never considering it could backfire, and definitely not expecting Lady Angelika’s answer to make you reminisce about Bertolt’s genuine smile and Reiner’s sweet disposition.

“Are you, perhaps, also interested in gemstones and their magical properties, my lady?” Leon suddenly asked, prompting you to blink away the bittersweet melancholy and the confusion that usually followed any train of thought that led to your ex-classmates.

“I- my father- It’s one of his favorite topics to discuss at the dinner table.” You explained, chuckling nervously in an attempt to compose yourself. “Did you perhaps attend Orvud Academy, Lady Angelika?”

“Oh my, are you a diviner?!” She jumped excitedly. “Yes, I did! Until the eighth grade, before Father decided to move me and my sisters to another institute in Ehrmich.”

“Then maybe we coincided in the corridors a few times.” You suggested, feeling your chest lightening up the farther away you walked from the uncomfortable topics discussed a few sentences ago. “I also went to Orvud.”

“Maybe we did! Oh my, Leon, this world is so small!” She turned to her friend, the delight present in her voice, and the gleeful way in which she started tugging at his hand, made you think of a little kid trying to lead their favorite parent to the candy store. “Although I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t remember me.” She suddenly turned her head towards you. “I looked very different back then. I was so…outlandish.” She concluded, sporting the face of someone who’d just smelled the food that had caused them indigestion.

“Sometimes, in moments of dejection or self-doubt, I find reassurance in knowing that I no longer look, nor act, like I did back in eighth grade.” You said, her smile instantly evolving into a soft, silvery laugh that was as delicate and angelic as you expected hers to be.

“Next time I’m feeling down, I’ll give it a try.” She promised.

“Is there a reason why you changed schools, my lady?” You asked, feeling comfortable enough to let your curiosity wonder and wander.

“Father believed the institutes at Ehrmich taught better chess. I wanted to stay in Orvud because all my friends were there. Not to mention Ehrmich is in the literal opposite side of town, and even to this day, I still grieve the precious minutes that the long ride home took away from my youth.” She complained dramatically. “But I can’t complain. And neither can Leon.” Lady Angelika smiled mischievously at her friend. “That’s where he first laid eyes on me, and also where I became the inspiration for his first book.”

Leon smiled back, and it was the type of smile that told you this was a conversation he already had way too many times, yet somehow, still wasn’t tired of.

“Your beauty is indeed of remarkable proportions, my dearest Angelika.” He said, lightly raising his glass as if making a toast to his friend’s comeliness. “However, as we have discussed several times in the past, the source of inspiration for my first published work, or muse, if the casual scribbling I do from time to time were to be considered a form of art, was the cloudless sky I had the providential fortune to exist under during the summer I spent in Karanes.”

“Leon fell in love with a married woman, and she had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Quite scandalous. Isn’t it?”

Lady Angelika’s opportune translation painted a smirk on your face as you raised a probing eyebrow at Leon. And you expected his ears, as well as his cheeks maybe, to turn red the moment his friend’s words reached them, but you should’ve known better than to expect that from someone of such poised, elegant bearing. Instead, he allowed a relaxed, graceful laugh to escape his lips before a reply could.

“She was indeed married, but I didn’t fall in love with her.” He explained calmly, the easiness in his demeanor evidencing that he was already used to be teased by his friend. “Her loving husband and sweetheart of many years stands in this very courtyard as we speak, so I would sincerely appreciate it if we could keep away from distasteful misunderstandings.” He took another sip of his drink as his eyes scanned the room. “Ending the day with a black eye is certainly not one of the goals I set for myself this morning when I sat down with my diary and my favorite breakfast tea.”

“Oh, is she around then?” Lady Angelika asked excitedly, giggles decorating her voice as she tried her best to find an unknown face in the crowd.

“She is not. If you’d studied the poems with the careful perusal they demanded, maybe you’d know that such elusive beauty tends to evade congested occasions like today’s.” He teased, and his friend dramatically placed a hand over her chest in response, pretending to take offense.

“May I ask what the book's title is?” You smiled mischievously, curiosity tickling your mind. “I’ll admit I’m not the avid reader myself, but I’m willing to give poetry my undivided attention if it promises to uncover the mysterious identity of Leon’s first love.”

“Walking artwork. Talking poetry.” He replied, shaking his head in amused disapproval. “That’s the name of the book.” Your eyes widened in realization, suddenly remembering the blue book with faded golden letters that the Commander kept in his office, surely one of his favorite reads, and after today, one you’d definitely be borrowing sometime soon. “And as I said, my lady, she wasn’t a love of mine, but even if she was, I can assure you that by the time serendipitous fate brought our paths together, the title of ‘first’ had already been long claimed.”

Lady Angelika gave Leon a complicit smile that told you she knew exactly who that title belonged to. “Leon’s lust and uncontrollable desire for this married woman really comes to life in vivid colors thanks to all those forbidden words he so artistically painted her with.” She said giggling, looking at Leon as if trying to elicit a reaction from him, but all he had for her was an uninterested eye roll. “I would have given anything, even this very moonstone on my neck, only to see Aunt Freya’s flustered face once she reached chapter nineteen.” And the sultry way in which she sank her teeth on her bottom lip made you desperately want to know what exactly went down in chapter nineteen.

“I would consider it a miracle if Mother ever so much as touches one of my books.” He joked before bringing the glass to his lips, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was using the pink sparkly liquid to hide something that wasn’t as rosy.

“Of course she reads your books!” Lady Angelika exclaimed confidently, and you wondered if she too had noticed the same shift you had. “If I had a son as talented as you, I would never shut up about him.” She said proudly before turning to you. “Father used to get so annoyed at Uncle Hansel because he would never stop talking about Leon’s books whenever they played chess together.” Lady Angelika giggled, her eyes traveling briefly to the sky as if it was there where she kept all her memories. “Father felt that Uncle Hansel would just brag about ‘that gifted little nephew of his’ all evening and never focus on the game, which… even if we were to say that was the case… how come Father never managed to win a single one?” She chuckled before turning to Leon to clarify. “Nothing personal, you know how Father is. But I always understood Uncle Hansel and why he couldn’t stop gushing about his nephew. I was just as captivated by him.” She said fondly, and there was a hint of nostalgia in the sweet smile she was offering her friend. “And his work, of course!” She added rather abruptly.

“You praise me too much, my dearest Angelika. But my writing isn’t the slightest bit as impressive as your abilities in chess are.”

“Nonsense.” She said before turning to you, dismissing the compliment with a flick of her hand, a gesture that told you that her skills were probably every bit as impressive as Leon had implied. “My lady, I know you said reading is not among your interests but, by any chance, do you happen to enjoy ghost stories? In my humble, and probably very biased yet still fairly accurate opinion, there’s nothing like sitting by the fire on a blustery night, Leon’s horror anthology in one hand and something warm in the other, the wind ominously knocking at your window while his writing transports you to macabre dimensions.” She said, shuddering as a result of the goosebumps she had so willfully self-induced.

You chuckled, the lightness in you heart making you realize how rare days like these were. Since you had joined the Training Corps, and especially after becoming a Scout, it was as if the stakes were always high, in everything you did. It felt as if there was no normalcy in your life, or at least not like you once knew it. And, although you wouldn’t trade your life at the base for anything, you couldn’t deny that it was nice to enjoy ordinary moments like this every now and then. “That sounds frightfully enticing indeed, a perfect night made possible only by the comfort of knowing that, in the end, it’s all folktales and fiction.”

“Oh, but they are not fictional.” She was quick to clarify, shaking her hand promptly as if to make you understand how important it was for you to know this before proceeding any further. “Most of Leon’s stories are based off real life experiences, and that makes them all the more exciting! ‘Distant Cries from a Childless Town’ is based on the sinister events of that summer Leon spent traveling around Wall Rose.” She explained enthusiastically. “The second story, which is also my sister’s favorite, is about a priest who kept a human-sized titan locked in his basement. I won’t tell you how it ends, or how the titan got there in the first place, but from the title of the book you can pretty much guess, can’t you? What I will tell you, however, is that you’ll fall for the main character just as everyone does!” She made the face your father always did when daydreaming about your mother’s green tomato pie. “He’s loosely based off one of Leon’s closest friends, a super cute boy from the Trost countryside.” She tugged at Leon’s sleeve as if trying to get him to gush together with her. “His name was Jean. I met him one summer when he came to stay with Leon. Come to think of it, Leon is always friends with the dreamiest, most fascinating people.”

The way her eyes sparkled as she gazed into the sunlit fields, lips curved into a soft smile and fingers absentmindedly playing with the moonstone around her neck, told you that she was probably reminiscing about the happiest summer of her adolescent years. And you couldn’t help but chuckle, wondering if the Jean of Leon’s story was the same one you knew. He was from Trost too and, from your understanding, also childhood friends with Leon. And if it was him, you would have no option but to laugh at how comedic it all was. To think he had a secret admirer in Mitras, and not only that, but the fact that she was a member of the nobility… Heaven forbid he ever found out, because the one you knew, your Jean, his ego definitely did not need another boost.

Although, in all fairness, you kind of understood where Lady Angelika was coming from. Him and Reiner had always been the most popular among the ladies back at Training Camp. In fact, when you first met Jean, you had also thought he was really cool. It was the very first day of ODM practice, and although everyone else was struggling, he seemed to be a natural at it. However, you also remembered how quickly all form of curiosity and wonder had vanished, that same night at dinner to be more specific, when you saw him engage in one of those embarrassing fights him and Eren loved to have.

“He was so well-mannered and smelled so good all the time.” Lady Angelika continued her recollection of the events of that summer, just as your mind started to get flooded by memories of a very different summer, one where Eren and Jean never stopped throwing scrambled eggs and baked tomatoes at each other. “His hair was so soft and he was so manly we both fell in love with him.”

It was so sudden and unexpected, that you couldn’t stop your eyes from opening as wide and as inappropriately as your eyelids allowed them to.

“Leon and I didn’t talk to one another for weeks after that, until we finally waved our little white flags and agreed neither of us would pursue him. After that, we hugged and decided to go for chocolate pastries. We were so silly back then. Do you remember, Leon?”

“I would argue we still are.” He responded amusedly, bringing the glass to his lips and swirling the contents lightly before taking a sip.

Lady Angelika chuckled as she leaned over the handrail, her hair playing with the wind as she gazed at the pasturing horses, and you wondered if the longing smile present on her lips meant that she was still reminiscing about Jean. Leon, on the other hand, was looking at no one and nothing in particular, taking occasional sips from his glass until it was completely empty. And something, probably the wistful smile he was wearing, told you that he we was most likely thinking about those days too.

And about Jean, perhaps.

“I absolutely enjoy horror stories.” You blurted unprovoked after some uncomfortable seconds of silence, fearing it might escalate into something even more awkward. You weren’t sure if Leon was comfortable with you knowing such personal details about him, especially when you were acquainted with Jean yourself. “And I greatly appreciate the personalized recommendation, Lady Angelika. However, I think I’ll start with Walking Artwork and leave the sinister stories for bolder times, you know… for the sake of chronological order. I’m also curious to see how Leon’s writing evolved over the years.”

Leon let his head fall to the side both in suspicion and disbelief, squinting his eyes as if asking you to get it over with.

“And of course, because I’m interested in uncovering the married lady’s mysterious identity as well as what became of her.” You finally confessed, a giggle escaping your lips when you saw him roll his eyes and shake his head in disapproval. You had to admit that there was a very particular type of pleasure to be derived from teasing Leon, and you were beginning to understand why Lady Angelika seemed to enjoy it so much. “The Commander has that book in his personal collection. I might just borrow it on Monday and begin my research as soon as we go back to the office.”

“Even if you succeed in uncovering her identity, little does it matter, my lady; given the fact that my interest in her was purely artistic and never romantic.” He replied, shrugging his shoulders as if he was sorry to disappoint you. “As of what became of her, I’m happy to report that I’m still very much welcomed with warm geniality by both her and her darling daughters whenever I find myself in Karanes.” He signaled with a shake of his glass. “With that said, I’m truly honored and delighted, if I may allow myself such pleasures, to know that someone with Commander Smith’s intellect and literary knowledge found something of value in my dull first work. I have never been able to bring myself to read it again.”

“Huh? You work with Commander Smith?” Lady Angelika asked, the newfound piece of information lighting some sort of spark in her eyes, and you weren’t sure you could call it simple curiosity.

Nodding proudly, you looked around the garden, eyes surveying the room and a comfortable type of excitement bubbling inside you at the thought of finding his blue eyes in the crowd any time now.

“I had the pleasure of starting my rounds conversing with him by the central pavilion. Maybe he’s still there.” Leon looked in the direction of the marble-columned structure, as if trying to find him too. And you caught yourself trying to guess what the nature of their exchange was, something that admittedly troubled you more than a little, given the misunderstanding from a few weeks prior. “He must be looking for you too.”

You turned to Leon and were surprised to discover a smile full of understanding shining your way. And you sincerely hoped the nervous laugh that escaped your lips as a response could act as some sort of distraction so your burning cheeks and tomato ears could go unnoticed.

But you knew that he had been there that night, at the castle, in the dining hall, just a few rooms away from your office and all the wonderful things the Commander had been making you feel on top of his desk. And you also knew that, if he’d happened to hear something then, no amount of damage control you did now would be enough to erase it from his memory.

And like so, before you started acting more like a tomato and less like a person, you decided it was the perfect moment to start exchanging closing nods and parting smiles with Leon and Lady Angelika, which you did before heading in the direction he had pointed you to. Lady Angelika looked like she wanted to say something, and had it been any other moment, you would’ve waited. But, right now, all you wanted was to take your flustered face away and hide it in the Commander’s welcoming chest while you danced to a slow song or two.

“My Lady.” Leon’s sudden call of your name made you turn around abruptly. “Just one more thing.” He said as he approached you, putting some distance between Lady Angelika and him, and lowering his voice as if to ensure nobody else could hear what he was going to say. “I had a conversation with my dear uncle the other day, and I explained to him about the nature of our budding relationship.” He smiled mid-sentence as if to let you know it was okay, and you had to admit that any form of reassurance was very much welcome at the moment, especially when you had no clue where all this was heading. “I was very specific in my request, and by ‘very specific’ I mean I carefully treaded through all the poetical trap my tongue usually falls into, and sincerely asked him to stop hindering the growth of our blossoming friendship with the shadows his well-intended efforts are casting.”

His eyes lingered in the central pavilion’s direction for a while, seemingly taking his time organizing the words inside his head before saying them out loud. “Although very little use it has, I apologize if his remarks resulted in any kind of misunderstanding or inconvenience for you.”

You stared at his apologetic smile in silence, trying to make sense of the words that had just left his mouth. And maybe it was the tinge of remorse in his eyes or the way their attention would shift between you and the central pavilion, but something told you that he probably held the answer to the question you had been trying to get the Commander to respond.

No. Not probably.

He definitely did.

Did Lord Koch talk about you and Leon in a way that made the Commander think you were involved romantically? You didn’t know for sure, yet you knew two other things: One, if he had indeed said something, Leon would absolutely know what it was; and two, he would totally tell you if you asked.

But before you could do so much as open your mouth, Lady Angelika’s melodious voice called his name and he smiled apologetically before turning to her, leaving you there, stranded in the middle of the crowd, with nothing but questions to hold on to.

And you would have remained there for longer, had a flurried waiter not bumped into you, knocking the butterfly pin off your hair and making it bounce on the glossy marble tiles.

You looked down just in time to see it slide under a crystal table, and bent down to reach it, only to find that a gentle hand had gotten there first.

“Thank you, but it’s fine. I got it.” You said as your hand brushed past warm, manly fingers.

“I know you do, but let me.” Replied a rich, velvety voice you had only heard on your happiest moments.

You rose up as fast as your faltering legs allowed, your heartbeat like the frenzied flapping of hummingbird wings, and the reason for that, standing right in front of you, holding the blue butterfly in his welcoming hand, the sun sparkling on the metal pin in the same mesmerizing way it did on the sapphires he had on his face.

next chapter

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arteastica · 8 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (8)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 4.2k

“My goodness! You are totally going to find a husband tonight.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” The crisp air flowing in through the open window caressed your bare skin and prompted you to ask the question.

“Who cares? Woman, look at yourself.” Hitch grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you to the mirror.

You examined your reflection again, trying your best to find the confidence required to finally step out of the ladies’ room. You had chosen one of your favorite silk dresses for the occasion: sky-colored, cowl neck that stopped exactly where it was comfortable, and thin bow-tie straps to hold everything up. Yes, definitely a favorite. Favorite, as in ‘best liked’ and not as in ‘frequently worn’. In fact, this was the first time the poor thing ever left your room, where a teenager version of yourself used to wear it late into the night, when the risk of getting caught by your mother equaled zero. She didn’t even know you owned it, but you were certain the thigh slit and the flirty silhouette would be reason enough for her to disapprove. But to be fair, you didn’t remember the fabric ever hugging you this way before. Your body had obviously changed a lot over the years, and you were surprised it still fit.

“Jeez. I really wish I wasn’t on duty tonight, so I could wear one of these.” Hitch let out a disheartened sigh. Her chin was resting on your right shoulder and her eyes examined your reflection from head to toe. When they stopped at the slit in your right leg she said “Those thighs won’t have a problem finding their way into a gentleman’s heart.” She gave you one of those smirks you had missed so much. “Or into his bed…”

“Sadly, I’m not here for that tonight. I’m here for work.”

“Sorry but no one who is here just for work, one, looks this good in a slip dress, and two, takes this long to come out. What about punctuality?”

She was right. You had already taken too long. So, very reluctantly, you decided to walk out the door. But as soon as you stepped out, heads started turning in your direction, the attention mostly coming from women wearing pastry-shaped gowns and opera gloves.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting the attention. You knew the dress had been a daring decision. The moment you slipped on it, you confirmed it had the potential to make heads turn, and maybe some part of you actually wanted a taste of that. Would admitting it make you an attention-seeker? According to your script, however, the scene was supposed to play out a little different, and you had imagined yourself actually enjoying it. But, in real-life, the only thing the dress was succeeding at was awakening dormant insecurities, like that feeling of inadequacy you had almost forgotten about. How could you have forgotten though? You used to be inseparable. That was until you started working at the Survey Corps. You thought of your office, and the familiar picture comforted you for a brief moment, until you remembered it was now miles away.

You smoothed down the front of your dress, in part to look busy and also to dry your sweaty palms, but unlike the silky fabric, the crowd’s eyes felt rough on your skin. And you wished you had decided to wear something less special, something that would allow you to camouflage and pass as one of them. Why did I wear this? Your eyes tried to find the answer in a very promising spot on the floor. Maybe it had been out of pity for the dress. As a dress, it would be disappointing to spend all your life in a dark closet. Maybe it had been for old time’s sake. Since you hadn’t felt that out of place in months, maybe you wanted to remind yourself of the sensation. Or maybe it had all come down to something as simple as the color, and how it reminded you of something you had grown to like so much over the last months.

You turned to Hitch, displaying your bare back to the crowd.

“I can’t do this. Not like this. I’ll go get my coat.”

“Absolutely not. You look perfect, that’s why they are staring, because they like what they see. In fact, I would be worried if they weren-” Her eyes got lost in a particular spot on the other side of the room. “Woah, your boss is hot.”

You turned around and felt like you were coming undone. You didn’t understand why all these eyes were fixed on you, when clearly the best view was across the room, where he was standing.

One look at him and it was obvious that tuxedos had been created just so they could be worn by him. That black suit was exactly the kind of fit a woman would pick out for her man to wear at an event like this. And, while the slicked back hair undoubtedly contributed to the fireworks lighting up all over your skin, the real devil was in all the other details. It was in the way he kept his shoulders back and his chin high as he spoke, in the unconcerned drumming of his fingers against his leg, in the way he threw his head back when laughing, and in the way he seemed to fall into place everywhere he went, whether it was a room full of intimidating people, or a field full of titans. Confidence shone through his skin. Confidence, as well as everything else that made him attractive, came from deep within.

“Alright, now go out there and fulfill your duties.” You felt your friend's hands on your shoulders. “That also includes finding yourself a rich suitor who asks for your hand in marriage.” She whispered into your ear before pushing you into the crowd.

Across the room, the commander was talking to a group of older-looking men. Despite your legs feeling as steady as a house of cards, you started walking towards him. You had successfully made it halfway through the uncomfortable stares, when his eyes finally landed on you. Like everyone else so far, he did a double-take. However, unlike the others, he didn’t turn to the next person to whisper something. Instead, he started making his way to you. And most notably, unlike the others, whose eyes traveled all over your body, back and forth between every patch of exposed skin and resting at all the wrong stops, his didn’t. As he walked to you, his eyes were fixed on yours. And, in that moment, you realized you were very lucky. Because those were the kind of eyes that made the world around you vanish, uncomfortable stares and all.

When you finally met halfway, you decided you would gladly give up your ability to blink. It would be a small price to pay if it meant you would never miss a second of that irresistible smile and the way it made his eyes crinkle. He reached for your hand, and took it in with the kind of gentleness you wouldn’t expect from a man who spends his life around flesh-eating giants.

He brought your hand to his lips, and when they met the back of your fingers, you prayed he didn’t notice all the hairs on your forearms standing on end. The rest of your body was clearly getting jealous of your hand. You could tell by the way your lips parted and let out a very subtle, and you hoped silent, moan.

“May I?” He offered you his arm and you took it promptly, deciding you wouldn’t mind holding on to it for the rest of your life, and if that wasn’t possible, then at least for the rest of the evening.

When you got a closer look at the men he had been previously talking to, you realized you actually knew one of them: Commander Pixis, head of the Garrison. You had never met him formally, but you had seen him a few times around the capital. However, before any introduction could take place, a man with gentle-looking features spoke in a soft voice.

“My lady, Erwin is undoubtedly a very lucky man.”

His words took a few seconds to register with you, but when they finally did, your ears started burning, the sensation spreading like fire to the rest of your face as you realized that they, most likely, still didn't know you were his assistant.

After conversing some more, the commander asked to be excused and guided you to another group of people. And so, as you made your way around the ballroom, you realized there were even more eyes on you now, and it wasn’t surprising, the man beside you was reason enough. But the stares didn’t hold as much weight as they did before, because right now you had his arm to hold.

You glanced up at him, and your lips curved slightly as you remembered the little incident from earlier. Much like that man, these onlookers most likely didn’t know you were just his assistant. And something about that, and the speculations it could lead to, the rumors it could start, and everything else it could imply about you and him, made your insides feel as fizzy as the contents of the glass you were holding. For all they knew, the night would end with your dress discarded on the floor, and bodies tangled under the covers. And you found yourself wishing that whatever assumptions they were making would actually come true.

As the night went on, a couple of things caught your attention. One of them was Captain Levi, who looked like he would much rather attend his own funeral. And the other one was a certain pattern of behavior: Every man you met while holding the commander’s arm, purposely avoided looking at your exposed thigh or bare shoulders, and while their eyes would occasionally linger on your collarbones for an innocent second or two, they would quickly migrate somewhere else.

The evening was already coming to a close when the pattern was sadly broken. To be more precise, it was when you met the group of men standing at the top of the stairs. They had been laughing boisterously and drinking steadily since the evening started. Most of them looked like they were well into their fifties, and all six men were wearing ostentatious sashes dotted with the biggest collection of golden studs you had ever seen. The loudest, and presumably oldest, of them all greeted the commander animatedly.

“Erwin Smith, the legend himself. I’m still waiting for that rematch.” You noticed the cufflinks on his shirt and wondered if those were diamonds, because if they were, then they’ve got to be the biggest in existence. “I’ve been working on my double attacks.”

“Intuition is sometimes far more helpful than memorizing patterns, my lord.” The commander replied in a gentle voice.

“That’s why you’re always one step ahead.” The older man let out a guffaw that, in retrospective, felt a little unnecessary, before turning to you. “Woah. Just like in the game, you never cease to surprise me, Erwin. In very pleasant ways, I must say.” His eyes meticulously outlined all the curves of your body, paying special attention to your covered cleavage, and the amount of time he spent there made you wonder if he had somehow developed the ability to see through fabric. “However, I will never understand how your mind works. There is no way I would bring the missus to an event like this. I mean, the whole purpose of a party is to have fun!” The man and his friends broke out in strident laughter, and that was the only moment his eyes left your body, when he tilted his head back to enjoy his own remark.

“I mean no disrespect to you, my lady,” he may not but his body language sure as hell did, “so please don’t take offense.” With tears in his eyes and still recovering from earlier, he acknowledged you briefly before turning to the commander. “But I was hoping we could become family someday, Erwin. You left quite the impression on my youngest.”

You suddenly felt a burning sensation in your chest, and it had nothing to do with the unsolicited attention it had been getting from the man.

“She asked if you were coming tonight. Sent her regards.” The audacity of this man. If the commander were actually your man, how would you feel listening to all this? “Maybe you could join us for lunch tomorrow. She would be delighted to play against you one more time. She’s brilliant, isn’t she?” And right there and then, you realized there would actually be no difference between how you would feel if you were his wife and how you were feeling in that very moment. This man was basically setting the commander up for a little chess date with his daughter, when his alleged wife, fiancée, girlfriend or whatever, was standing right beside him, holding his arm.

“She’s a very gifted young lady.” The commander’s deep voice contrasted the man’s grating tone. “However, I’m afraid I must decline your kind offer, my lord. I will be returning to the headquarters first thing in the morning.”

“I see.” The man cleared his throat, the gleeful undertone seemingly gone all of a sudden. “Anyway, you’re a lucky man. There’s no denying.” His eyes bore into yours, successfully reminding you of a vulture scavenging for rotting carrion. “Your lady is gorgeous.”

That last remark made you feel like you had swallowed a rock; the way he had said it made your legs feel heavier than concrete; and the stare he had given you while saying it, made you feel as clothed as a titan. You knew once this man found out you were not with the commander, you were done. Once, the words ‘she’s my assistant’ left his mouth, this man would come after you. And you also knew that you wouldn’t get far, not with your legs in that state.

“Yes. She really is.” The commander’s voice sounded a lot like the rainy mornings back at the base. You looked up and found him staring at you, his lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze wrapping you like that well-worn blanket your mother always told you to throw away but you never did. You stared back into his eyes and what you saw, took you back to that day in the Forest of Giant Trees, with his heartbeat like a lullaby, and his arms like a sweet childhood memory.

But then, murmuring sounds came flooding in like muddy water spilling out of the sewers. You turned your head in their direction and realized the older man wasn’t the only one who had taken an interest in your dress, but also his friends.

And you decided you would gladly take the women’s stares over these any day. Who knows, maybe the women had only been thinking about how the color didn’t suit you or how fake the silk looked. But something about the way these men were grinning and whispering to each other told you that they were looking for something in particular, and you were sure it wasn’t the tailor’s name. You would much rather feel cheap and underdressed, than dirty and undressed.

You held onto the commander’s arm with your other hand as well, and snuggled closer, in what seemed to be your body’s desperate attempt to elude the attention.

“If you excuse us, gentlemen.” Much like the seasons, his voice always seemed to know when it was its turn to arrive. He guided you away, and at some point between the top of the stairs and the main hall, his hand came to rest at the small of your back. Even through the fabric, his fingers caused your skin to burn. And for the second time that night, you could feel the rest of your body getting jealous.

“Commander, I think I’ll call it a night.” You announced once you reached the main hall. “Thank you for tonight.” You gently let go of his arm and wondered if that was what autumn leaves felt as they were about to fall from the branches.

He nodded slightly, and, probably having no idea how nice it was going to feel, then said: “I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh don’t worry about it. My house is actually very close.”

“All the more reason to do it then.” His eyes crinkled in that enticing way they usually did and, honestly, you didn’t feel like pretending you were against his proposal.

The distinctive smell of frost infused the night air, and slipped into your bustle coat as you walked down the familiar streets that led to your house. There was a lingering warmth still left from the summer, but the mist that hovered above the cobblestones signaled the impending arrival of winter. However, they weren’t fighting for dominance, and you wondered if you would ever know such harmony. You glanced at the man walking just a couple of feet beside you, his eyes, on the road ahead; his mind, somewhere you didn’t know; but his hands, his hands were in his pockets, and you wanted to reach inside his coat and take one.

It had been a dreamy night for the most part, but you could feel your heart shrinking a little with every step you took. Every passing street light signaled another lost chance at getting closure. And you still had lots of words awaiting in your tongue, lots of questions lingering on your lips, and your mouth was heavy with all the things that were yet to be said.

“Lord Wald seems to have problems with alcohol.” He spoke in his usual quiet voice, but there was a certain undertone propping up his words.

“Didn’t seem like that to me.” He looked at you, slight confusion painting his features and causing his head to tilt to one side. “They seemed to get along quite well.”

He chuckled. And you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” His eyes were fixed in the cobblestones below his feet, and the underlying something from earlier was still there, but this time you were able to put a name to it: it sounded like remorse.

“It’s okay.” You gave him a reassuring smile, even though he wasn’t looking. “But I feel bad for his wife, and honestly for any woman who crosses paths with him when she’s not around.”

“I highly doubt her presence makes any difference when it comes to his behavior.”

You looked at your hands, they were holding each other as if seeking comfort. “So, you play with her often?” You felt his gaze on you but didn’t look back. “His daughter.”

“Met her once. Very impressive player. Cannot say she got it from her father though.” You faked a smile at the exact same moment a tide of regret washed over you, finally understanding what your mother meant when she said chess was an important life skill.

And speaking about your mother, you caught a whiff of a familiar and otherwise pleasant earthy scent and prayed you wouldn’t find her beloved climbing hydrangea, but when you looked up, it was there. And so was your front door.

“It’s here.” You took a deep breath and released the parting words you had been dreading to say. “Thank you for walking me home, commander.”

He took a step closer, reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, but this time, they parted slightly, taking your knuckles between them in a single, soft kiss. The warmth of his lips and the crisp autumn air blowing on wet skin created a delicious contradiction on your hand. His eyes were closed and his lips lingered, some would say for way longer than was required for a hand kiss. It was a sight deserving of a moan, so you gave him a silent one. One that created a playful tickle in your belly.

But maybe it wasn’t silent enough, because in that very moment he looked back at you. And, as you stared back into the deep blue, you realized those were the kind of eyes that could tell you a million things before his lips could even say a word. Tonight, they were telling you something as well, and although you didn’t know exactly what it was, you knew a few other things.

You knew why your skin tingled under his gaze, and burned under his touch. You knew why the sight of him lifted your heart to the sky while his absence made it sink into a bottomless pit. You knew why his scent reminded you of every secret place you hid in as a little girl, and his voice, of a happier future you wanted to escape to. You knew why the thought of another woman interested in him set your heart on fire, and the idea of him interested in her, crushed it into pieces. And you also knew why you had worn the dress.

You knew the blue of the silk would complement your skin just the same way the blue of his eyes did. You had decided to wear the dress just so you could feel what it was like to have his eyes all over your body. His eyes were not only allowed, but welcome and explicitly invited, to explore every inch of your skin, covered or not. He could stare as much as he wanted, for as long as he wanted, in all the places he wanted. But only him. Because you had worn the dress for him. However he was too much of a gentleman to do it, so you gave him permission.

“Do you like my dress?” You took a step closer, and noticed your hand was still in his.

His eyes drifted to your lips, where they lingered for a second, before following the path marked by your collarbones, down to your clothed breasts where they rested momentarily. Then, they paid a short visit to your hips before finally landing on your thigh, visible through the open coat. It was there where they seemed to feel most at home. And it was then, when you had his eyes on your bare skin, that you became aware of how soaked you were. You squeezed his fingers on instinct at the realization, which caused him to trace his steps back to your eyes.

“Very much.” His voice, almost a whisper; his lips, slightly parted. And you could see his breath, as well as the rising and falling of his chest. He was so close you wondered if he could see what you were thinking of, if he could see how much you wanted him to take the silky fabric off you.

In such proximity, his cologne was even more intoxicating. It was musky and clean, like a fresh bubble bath; sweet and gentle, just like him. You knew it was something you would always crave, even after tonight was long gone. And you wondered how many women had been in this intimate space before, and how many of them were craving his perfume right now.

The small of your back was still tingling from where he touched you earlier. And the rest of your body was demanding the same attention, so you took another step closer.

Goodness, he was so handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you want to know how his lips moved in a kiss, and how his hands followed the curves of your body. And the situation laid out before you provided the perfect opportunity.

The perfect opportunity to stop pretending your feelings were written in some foreign language you had never heard before. The perfect opportunity to call it what it was, once and for all.

“Commander.”

“Yes?” His eyes couldn’t decide between yours and your lips.

“There’s something I want to ask you.” Your voice had never sounded so feeble. “Would you- would you please-” He nodded encouragingly but his breath on your skin was too distracting, successfully causing the opposite effect. “I- I can’t tell you.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes were holding your gaze, and his lips, you could almost taste them.

You could also hear, however, shuffling on the other side of the door, and you looked up to find a light turned on in the second floor.

“If it’s my mother, she’ll ask you to come in. If it’s my father, he’ll force you to.” He let out a chuckle and you found yourself wishing you could make him laugh forever. “Would you like to come in?”

“It’s late. I don’t want to importune anyone.”

“Good choice. If you get my father started, he’ll talk about royal family conspiracy theories all night long.”

“Sounds interesting.”

You did your best to return his smile despite the emptiness you felt when letting go of his hand.

“See you tomorrow, commander. Good night.”

next chapter

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arteastica · 3 months

Text

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (22)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 2.9k

Your lips were usually the first part of your body his greeted, but when his teeth took the tender skin of your neck between them instead, you knew that the look in his eyes wasn’t the only thing that had changed that night.

He sank his teeth into the soft flesh, a little below your jaw, and it didn’t hurt. The first night you were together he promised that would never happen, and being the upstanding, dependable Commander of the Survey Corps, you knew he was a man of his word. That’s why, even when your body was trembling against his, chest so tight it was hard for your lungs to expand, you trusted him. You trusted the warm breath on your neck that announced the path he was following, a path that led him to a specially sensitive patch of skin below your throat, where his lips started to suck on a little harder than they ever had. But then again, it didn’t hurt.

Not knowing if your lips were allowed to say as much, you ran your fingers through his hair, letting them tell him instead, in their gentle, silent way that you missed him.

A lot.

However, unsure if that was something he wanted to hear, and fearing he wouldn’t return the words, you settled for intertwining your fingers with his golden locks, head thrown back and eyes closed as you let his lips have his way with you. Lips that, by now, had traveled all the way down to your collarbones, slightly visible despite your closed shirt. And, when he nipped the delicate skin, a soft whimper escaped your lips.

A small, innocent sound that proved to be enough to make him want to bury his face between your breasts, which he promptly did after undoing the top buttons of your shirt in one single motion of his hand.

“Erwin.” You called out timidly, his name becoming a combination of pleasure and pain on your lips. Pain that wasn’t exactly physical.

On one hand, you were happy he was touching you again. You were glad to be someone he still wanted to kiss, to hold, to fuck maybe; even after you had told him you loved him. His lips on you, feasting on the tender, plump flesh of your breasts were enough confirmation that you still existed in his mind; that he still craved your body, just as much as your pussy, hungrily rubbing against the hard muscle of his thigh, told him you craved his.

Another part of you, however, was lost in uncertainty; constantly asking herself if it was all worth it. If this pleasure was worth the risk. The risk of ending up feeling used.

Because, the more he sank his teeth into you, the more you realized how impersonal it all felt, much like his voice had just moments ago. There was something you couldn’t explain, something about his kisses choosing your neck and breasts over your lips. There was something unsettling about not being able to see his eyes. It scared you. Not being able to find, in their gentle gaze, the reassurance you needed in such vulnerable, intimate state; with your heart threatening to break your ribcage, your shallow breaths suffocating you more than helping you, and your pussy throbbing even harder with every lap of his tongue against your skin. But then again, that’s how your body reacted whenever he was around.

That’s how it reacted whenever you had the warm palm of his hand under your shirt, a subtle way of announcing that the fabric had become an obstacle that needed to be disposed of soon; which he promptly did, tugging at the front so suddenly and so forcefully it left you wondering if you’d find yourself sewing the bottoms back later in your room. But honestly you didn’t care, not when his hand skillfully unclasped your bra, revealing how impatient your nipples were to become the next target of his attention.

But, when time passed passed and his tongue never showed, you looked down to find him undoing your pants, not even bothering to look up to give any sort of explanation as he pulled down your boots, before throwing everything together to the pile of fabric only your panties were yet to join.

Only, they never did.

They remained in their place, quietly waiting around your hips for their turn, the cotton desperately clinging to the wet skin between your legs. A place that was leaking with want, throbbing with desire, clenching in anticipation.

Silently crying for him.

So much so that, for a moment, you considered removing them yourself. But that was before he stood up and his midnight eyes met yours, making you understand that taking your panties off wasn’t an order your commander had given.

“Comman- ah-” You moaned when his arm found its way around your waist; his body, still fully, and rather unfairly clothed, pressed hard against your bare skin as he lifted you up like a doll. A doll he wanted sitting on his desk, her legs slightly parted, just enough so he could stand in between.

His eyes bore into yours, telling you his plans in a language you were yet to learn, and maybe it was the gelid blue of his stare, or the fact that your panties were the only item of clothing you had been allowed to keep, but you started to shiver. Unsheltered, forsaken, and uncertain. Like a toy that was brought out of the attic one last time, just so its owner could decide if they would keep it or give it away.

“I’m scared.” The words left your lips in a whisper. A whisper so feeble you were unsure he had even heard.

Yes, you were scared. Scared that he didn’t believe you. Scared that he thought you were seeing Leon behind his back, kissing him in secret corners, letting him touch you in the late hours while you called his name, a name that wasn’t your Commander’s. And most importantly, you were scared of what a misunderstanding of that magnitude could mean for the two of you. For your future together, assuming there was even as much as a future to be scared about.

“I can stop if this is not what you want.” He said, and this time his voice sounded a little like it had back then, that unforgettable night when the winter was just starting and you had his naked body hovering over yours, glistening with sweat as he promised he would never hurt you.

It all seemed so far away now.

You knew, however, that his promise remained the same, despite his eyes and the way they looked at you changing so abruptly. And like so, you shook your head promptly, not knowing what was going to happen but wanting to see it happen regardless.

But despite your consent, he didn’t move a finger, choosing to stare at you instead. With those hazy blue eyes, disorienting and mystifying in an enticing, calming way; like morning mist hovering over the mountain lake on a chilly autumn day. And you got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you waited long enough it would clear up. Along with all the misunderstandings separating the two of you.

Because, maybe, all you needed was to stare into each other’s eyes, let them talk to each other before your lips could complicate everything with words. Because the more you stared into the blue, the more you saw, the more you understood, and the more visible the truth became.

What was hiding under the surface, below all that fog? What wasn’t he telling you? And, why he didn’t want to tell you?

You held all those questions in the trembling hand you lifted to his cheek, finding in his stillness the courage to run a gentle thumb against his skin, which was warm and comfortable, and slowly leaning against your palm. And for a moment, you thought he would close his eyes and let you hold him like you used to, not too long ago. But if there was something about the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps, something you should be familiar with after working 8 months under him, was his unpredictability. The patterns that his thoughts followed were a mystery, and that is assuming they followed a pattern at all.

Because unpredictability was in everything he did. From the way his hunter green cloak would dance in the wind as he rode his white horse across fields of green, to the way he would lead his men and their lives into uncharted territories with a single flare of his gun, or the way he turned you around in one swift motion of his arm. Big, commanding hand flat against your back, holding you down, a whimper escaping your lips the exact moment your breasts landed on the cold, hard wood of his desk, left cheek squeezed against the papers he had just been working on; which you confirmed were indeed the reports on the new horses. And, as useless as that information seemed now, it was the only thing your eyes were allowed to see from the position you now found yourself in.

You squirmed under his hand, your naked toes barely touching the floor, the delicate clinking of trembling porcelain the only thing you could hear as you tried to adjust your position in an attempt to see him. But the only thing you managed to see from the corner of your eye was the sturdy, menacing frame silently standing behind you, observing you. And you didn’t need to see his face to know where his attention was, because his eyes were burning your skin, visually devouring the flesh between your legs, where your famished hole throbbed, greedily consuming the fabric as it stuck to your wet slit.

And a minute could have passed, or a year perhaps, before you finally heard the rattle of his belt, announcing the plans he had for you. An excited shiver ran down your spine just mere seconds before you felt his warm hand between your legs, furtively pushing your panties to the side with a flick of his finger, not even bothering to pull them down before running the thick, delicious tip of his cock up and down your slit. And something about his unhurried, leisurely movements reminded you of a wolf circling its prey before going in for the kill.

It was relaxing, in a dangerous way. Comforting in the problematic sense. So comforting that pleased hums started leaving your lips every time you exhaled. His generous, hard cock and the soft, moist tip running along your slick folds, reassuring you that he was finally there at your door, as if he had just come home after the longest of missions.

You let your eyes fall shut and your mind get flooded with all the pleasant imagery. Summer, him coming home to you after a long day at work, warm dinner served on the table much like your body was now on his desk, the pantry cabinet now standing sturdy and foursquare after you asked him to fix it; glass holding the lemonade you just prepared for him, and the peach rhubarb pie waiting respectfully in the oven as your clothes dried quietly in the backyard. A lovely repetition you wished to be stuck in for the rest of your days together.

A short lived fantasy that made your lips curve into a smile, a smile that turned into an open mouth the moment he pushed his fat cock inside, all of a sudden and without warning. All the way to the hilt. And then, just as unexpectedly, he pulled out, allowing you to taste nothing but the overwhelming emptiness for a brief second before slamming back in, harder this time, making you release a pained and very audible moan that you were certain someone, at least one person, somewhere in the castle must have heard.

“Comman- ahh-” You gasped when he pulled out again before slipping back inside, his pace growing more aggressive with every thrust. “Erwin- mmmh~”

It was so different today. He seemed so eager to claim you as his, not holding back at all when it came to the rhythm of his hips, and neither were you when it came to your moans. You heard yourself making sounds that had never come out of your mouth before.

“Erwin!” You heard yourself chant his name in notes you didn’t know you were able to reach. “A-ah!”

You were practically screaming and he didn’t seem to care if someone heard you. In fact, it was as if the louder you screamed, the deeper his dick would go as a compliment. Almost as if he was announcing, with every thrust of his hips, that you belonged to him.

As if he wanted the whole castle to know what he was doing to you, the things he was making you feel.

As if he wanted everyone, including you, to know that nobody else could fuck you like this.

As if he was belligerently asking, with every violent thrust of his hips, if a metaphorical someone could make you scream like this.

And who were you to refuse answering your commander’s questions?

“I promise I’m only yours hnngh~” You moaned as his heavy balls hit your dripping folds. “But, if you feel I’m not, then make me a-ahh~!” Your fist held the report he had been working on, now nothing but a crumpled up paper; your brow locked in a tight frown as you did your best to speak through the overwhelming pleasure. “Please, Erwin, fuck me until you feel I’m yours enough.”

And you knew he was about to do just that the moment he removed the flat palm he had been pressing against your back, and placed it on your hips instead, gripping the flesh with such force it made you think he was never going to let go. And you were completely fine with that.

His thrusts grew even more animalistic as time went on, and maybe it was the spice of the cedar desk against your nose or the vanilla of the white oak burning on the other end of the room, but it all made you think of an ax chopping wood in the middle of a forest clear, splitting it in half like a broken heart, yet oddly satisfying like gliding a hot knife through fresh butter, very early in the morning. In the kitchen of some cabin. Hidden in some faraway woods.

As he pounded into you, all you saw was the kettle and the teacup, forgotten on the opposite end of the desk, and all you heard was the rattling of the porcelain, as its contents threatened to jump out of the cup, taking excited leaps every time he thrusted into you.

“Yes, yes, just like that.” You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like a flower, starved of sunlight, after the sky finally cleared up. “Erwin, I’m yours mmmhh~” Every inch of your body belonged to him, and you wanted him to know. To know that he had complete control over every single muscle of your body, down to the smallest one. Hence why they all tensed up when his grip tightened and more desperate, filthy sounds started to leave your lips in appreciation of how deep he was. “Only yours. Do you understand?”

You asked, but didn’t really expect an answer to come out of his lips. He was so silent today, and that was fine. Because you were being vocal for the two of you. You were screaming so he didn’t have to speak, moaning so he could focus all his attention in fucking you, in sliding that fulfilling, indulgent cock of his in and out of you, over and over again.

In your office, and maybe outside too, nothing else could be heard that evening, nothing but your sweet little cries and the lewd, wet sound of his dick as it entered your tight hole, repeatedly and relentlessly. So relentlessly you soon felt it building up inside, like a cork popping out of a bottle, the foam menacingly filling the glass to the brim; like milk dangerously approaching its boiling point, threatening to spill everywhere and cause a mess.

A beautiful one.

“Yes! Please, I-I’m almost there, Erwin. Please make me c-come.” You clenched tighter against his cock, your body squirming so much his hand had to return to its former position flat against your back. “I want to come for you.” Bending you over. “All over you.” Holding you down so you wouldn’t escape. “Because of you.”

Perfection. No, even that word fell short. Artistic. No, you couldn’t arrange it prettily into words. Aromatic. Yes, you could smell it. The freshly brewed ginger, the zesty lemon, and the intoxicating sweetness of the honey. An infusion you would never be able to drink again without thinking about him. Fucking you like this. On his desk. His hand folding you over. The sky all those ambiguous colors. His heavy, velvety balls slapping against your drenched pussy, his swollen cock buried all the way down to the hilt. You. Completely vulnerable, entirely owned by him. And even though his swollen cock relentlessly pounding into you reminded you of a knife stabbing an open wound, ironically, you felt safe. Safe enough to let your eyes close and your smile widen, as you prepared to come for him.

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arteastica · 8 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (11)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 3.4k

“I’m not sure I should.” He pulled his hand away and if it were anyone else, you would have been surprised, a little offended even; but with him, this was expected and very much in character.

“What’s wrong?” You whispered softly, even though you had a pretty good idea of what this all meant. “Am I not desirable enough, commander?”

“That’s not-” The words froze on his lips the moment you started to unbutton your shirt, eyes boring into his, as your fingers worked on revealing skin and silk lace alike. His attention drifted between your face and the soft, plump skin of your breasts, somewhat visible through your lingerie. As you stepped out of your shoes, your fingers helped with your skirt. It was just one button this time, so you knew it would be very easy. And it was.

As your long skirt fell to your feet, you couldn’t help but think about your parents, and how disappointed they would be if they knew that their daughter, their darling daughter, was stripping in front of a man, a man who happened to be her boss and not her husband. And you knew that he was thinking something along those lines as well. You knew that was probably what was stopping him too.

For years, your parents had been scouting at elegant parties and fancy Sunday gatherings, scouting for a suitable gentleman you could be promised to. For most girls, it all starts the moment they turn 16, but your parents had been thoughtful enough to wait until you were 18. You remembered those times all too well, especially the itchy gowns and boring dinner conversations, where nobody had been as uninterested and impassive as you and the poor young man sitting in front of you. Over the years, you had become good friends with many of them, but a friendship wasn’t what your parents were after. They had been tirelessly looking for someone your father could proudly ‘give you away’ to, for someone who, on your wedding night, would finally claim you as ‘his property’, as tradition stipulated. And any deviation in this path would see you casting a shadow of disgrace over your family.

You stood there in silence, looking at him, waiting for an answer, a faint twitch, an indication, for something. The lingering cold of the winter, somehow sneaking through the walls, hit your bare skin, as your chest rose and fell heavily. Any other man would slide his hand into your underwear and give you what you desired, craved, and needed. They would already be touching and kissing every patch of exposed skin, which right now, was pretty much all your body. Any other man would. That’s right. But he wasn’t just ‘any other man’.

“Just say you don’t want me and I’ll get dressed.” You spoke firmly, your heart threatening to break your rib cage. “Just tell me to leave. Commander, just give the order and I’ll get dressed and leave immediately.”

“I do want you. You know that.” You did. And, in case you didn’t before, the tightly clenched fists falling to his sides were giving it away. They were trying to hold back from you. You knew it all too well, because that’s what you had been trying to do for the last few months, every time he was around you. “But like I said, I’m not sure I should. No, in fact, I know I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I touch you, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”

“But I don’t want you to stop.” You cupped his face with both hands.

“What about your fam-”

“It’s not my first time.” You looked straight into his eyes while you confessed to the worst imaginable crime any fine lady from Mitras could ever commit, and yet you couldn’t care less. “You don’t need to hold back. Commander, I’m not a little girl. I stopped being one a long time ago. I know what I want, and that just so happens to be you. So please touch me.” You begged again, not really caring about how shameless you might sound, and then waited in silence for a reaction. A reaction that came in the form of a faltering hand, slowly reaching towards you, but an invisible barrier seemed to stop it the closer he got to your skin. So you took his hand and placed it exactly where you needed him the most. And this time, he didn’t pull it away, instead you felt his fingers tentatively brushing the fabric of your underwear. And you weren’t surprised to discover that the slightest touch of his fingertips on your cotton covered clit was enough to make your mouth open in a silent moan.

As he caressed you over the fabric, you could feel your panties getting moist with every stroke, which were gentle, just as you had expected from him. He made your whole body feel like the night sky on a fireworks show, and you were torn between closing your eyes to enjoy the sensations or keeping them open to enjoy the view, the sight of those inviting lips slightly parted and those piercing blue eyes staring so intensely into yours as he felt you, as he got to know you in your most intimate form, in the most intimate of ways.

He looked so focused, sporting that same seductive look he had every time he sat down to plan a strategy or read one of those old history books he enjoyed flipping through on rainy afternoons. His eyes were scanning your features, studying your face to see what movement was correct. One could say he was like a musician tuning his instrument. And you came to the conclusion that everything he did was fucking perfect. Every circling motion of his fingertips against your clothed clit felt incredible, and just as delicious as you thought it would. You had been right in assuming your fingers could never provide you with the pleasure his could. Every single motion was deserving of a moan, that you gladly conceded. It was your way of complimenting him on his ability to make you delirious. To make you delirious when his fingers hadn’t even entered you, when they hadn’t even touched you directly. He was so talented that no direct contact was needed and you were already coming undone. And after making a mental note of asking him if this skill was natural or acquired through years of practice, you took his lips in a slow, and intentionally sloppy kiss.

The way his lips moved against yours contrasted the pace his fingers were beginning to pick up down there. He savored you in a way that stirred more than your imagination, so your fingers diligently worked on unbuttoning his shirt. And when you finally uncovered his chest and your palms felt the skin underneath, you had to pull back for a second. You were sure this was what gardeners feel when they find there is still lemonade left in the jar after hours of working under the sun, what kids feel when they find there are still presents left to unwrap the morning after their birthday. Because just like them, what you found was even better than what you had imagined.

His chest was broad, hard, well-defined, and most noticeably, lushly covered with light brown hair, except for some areas where tissue had scarred. He put any other man you had seen shirtless before to shame; maybe they had been too young, or looked too inexperienced in comparison. And you suddenly wondered how old the commander was. You realized you had never asked him. But before you could start guessing, he pulled you back in for another kiss, and as much as you wanted to admire his chest, you didn’t feel like complaining. And when his forefinger slipped under the soaked fabric of your panties and teased your entrance, your legs almost gave in. Luckily for you, in that moment, he turned you around and held you against his chest. Strong arm wrapped around your waist, while his hand kept busy between your legs.

From the position you were now in, the only thing you could see was the fireplace, the chessboard and the door to his room. That was before you felt his lips on your neck, the overwhelming pleasure forcing your eyes closed. And, as you tilted your head to grant him full access, you hoped he left marks, lots of them, so you could prove to the pages of your journal that it hadn’t been a dream. You would figure out how to hide them from your parents later.

“Commander.” You moaned when he added his middle finger and entered you gently. “That feels so good.” His lips on your neck were exceptionally pleasing, just as his thumb was on your clit. His hot breath hitting a sensitive spot on your ear, as well as the sudden realization that you finally had his thick, manly fingers inside you made you moan even louder. “Please do that again.” He obediently started licking your ear, as he fingered you at a deliciously addictive rhythm, making it increasingly harder to breathe. As his lips feasted on your skin, you lifted a hand and placed it on the nape of his neck, bringing him even closer to you.

As wet sounds and pleased hums filled the room, you pressed your thighs tightly against each other, effectively trapping his hand and, in response, he fingered you even deeper, your hips instinctively pressing harder against his body. And that’s when you felt him: swollen and eager. Both your mouth and your slit watered at the thought, and you realized that you had never wanted to open your legs so bad for anyone before.

He was rock-hard and you were soaking wet, and there was only one logical conclusion to draw from this: your bed would remain cold and untouched for the rest of the night. And you confirmed this when his fingers reached deeper into you and his free hand went to cup one of your breasts. You looked down and were happy you did, because not even your wildest dreams could compare to what you saw. Both skilled, manly hands working to pleasure you, one squeezing your breast and the other, lost between your thighs. And something about such sight made you feel as if you were his. His to touch, to play with, to entertain and satisfy himself with.

“Touch me all you want, commander.” Something about the way his hands were holding you in your most intimate places made you feel as if you were his property. “Anywhere you want. In any way you want.” And you didn’t care how dirty and impure you sounded. “I’m all yours, commander. So do everything you want to me.” You said between heavy breaths, before turning your head to look at him once again.

He answered by kissing you. And the awkward position your neck was trapped in felt far from comfortable, but you didn’t mind, not when the feeling of your mouth stuffed with his tongue and your slit, with his fingers was there to numb all the pain. You pressed your ass desperately against his bulge, which caused him to rub your clit even harder in response.

You knew it would be obscene to come from just that, to orgasm from only two of his fingers and the wet sounds they were making, but that’s exactly what your body was going to do. You arched your back and clenched around him even tighter. And he must have felt it building up too, because suddenly, he pulled his fingers out and turned you around to face him, succeeding at making every single cell of your body feel neglected in one single move.

“I want our first time together to be more than this.” He looked into your eyes as he spoke, and you were pretty sure he meant he wanted to take it to his private room, where he could make you orgasm from his cock first. But you obviously didn’t mind, so you nodded eagerly. And not long after that, he was pushing the door open, your legs wrapped around his waist, and your face buried in the crook of his neck, kissing and leaving marks everywhere you could.

His room wasn’t that much different from his office, except for the presence of a double bed, which was the only thing suggesting it was a bedroom and not an extension of his office. Bookshelves covered the walls, and nestled between them was a wooden desk, smaller than the one in his office, and also messier. Although you rarely complimented yourself, here you had too, for never letting his workspace get like that. The desk was facing a big window, where the bitter wind could be heard knocking on the glass violently. But that wasn’t a concern, because inside his room the air was warm and pleasant, thanks in part to the softwood burning slow and nice in the fireplace; but mostly because of the strong arms now placing you on the bed. His bed.

He took off his shoes and unbuckled his belt, but when his fingers went for the remaining buttons of his shirt, you called his attention by tapping on the empty space beside you.

“Let me do it.” A playful wonder built in your lower belly and found its way to the smile you now wore. Once he did as you asked, you sat on his lap, eagerly straddling him. When your weight fell on his strong thighs you couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself, because whatever you had been doing for the past few months, you had clearly been doing it right. It had gotten you exactly where you dreamed to be.

For a few moments you only stared at him, doing nothing but basking in the sensation of your asscheeks spreading out comfortably on his firm, muscular thighs, and your fingers tangled in golden strands of hair. His face was as close as you had always wanted it to be, and from this proximity, he was even more handsome, if that was even possible. The first thing you noticed was that his eyes weren’t completely blue, in fact, they had very small speckles of brown near the center. In addition, his eyebrows, which looked even fuller from up close, had fine lines of light, almost blonde, brown hair; and his skin was sprinkled with very subtle freckles.

Your heart gradually became full with warmth as you admired all the details, and then with privilege when you realized that only someone staring from such close proximity would be able to make out all those small things about him. And you felt incredibly lucky you were that person now.

You felt incredibly lucky that your hips were the ones his hands were now holding. They were comfortably resting at your sides, where his thumbs had found a cozy spot under the fabric of your panties. It was so intimate, that position. Strong hands pressed against your bare skin, and his thumbs tangled with your underwear, acting as a reminder that he could pull them down at any moment he wanted.

“Commander, I really want you to make love to me.” You confessed while your hands pushed his shirt down his shoulders. “I need to know what it’s like to feel nothing but you. Absolutely nothing else but you.” Your lips sprinkled kisses on his skin, kisses that were as light as the freckles covering his shoulders. “You inside me. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about it.” He had no idea that you had spent the last couple of months imagining his naked body hovering over yours, and his fingers glistening with your wetness, and his dick buried deep inside you, in so much detail and with so much dedication. And so, believing that you deserved to claim the final prize, your hands reached for his belt. But before you could move a finger, his hands reached for the back of your bra as he said:

“I’ve thought about it too.” His fingertips toyed with the clasp for a moment. “What it would be like to sleep next to you, your head on my chest and my arms around you.” He said before unclasping your bra, finally revealing your breasts to him. “What it would feel like to be inside of you.” He whispered against the newly exposed skin, his hot breath waking up your nipples and the hairs on your body, all at the same time. “Your welcoming warmth, your soft breasts bouncing up and down, and all the beautiful sounds you’d make for me.” As he took your breast in an open-mouthed kiss you let out one of those, one you had never heard yourself make before, and he used his tongue on your nipple to compliment you for it.

One of your hands worked on tousling his hair, and the fingernails on the other were buried deep in the skin of his back. Heavy breaths got mixed in with the wet sounds he was making against your nipples. You couldn’t get enough of his hands exploring your body, of him touching you, his hands slipping under your panties and kneading your asscheeks. And when you rolled your hips against the hard bulge inside his pants, he grunted and squeezed your ass even harder.

“Commander, please.” Fuck me now. “I need you now.” I’m so wet for you. “It hurts so much.”

He answered your pleas by pushing you down onto the bed and hovering over you. He then placed a kiss on your lips, a kiss that felt like an important announcement and tasted like a warning of some sort. And, as he made his way down your body, his lips left their mark everywhere they passed. When he slipped his thumbs under the sides of your underwear you lifted your hips and he easily slid your panties down the curve of your ass. When his eyes landed on the part of your body he had just unveiled, a part of you he had never seen before, they reminded you of someone trying to fight off the urge to bury their face into a rich, creamy dessert. But then, against all temptation, your underwear continued its journey down your thighs, and then past your feet, until it ended up discarded on the wooden floor of his room, exactly as you had fantasized about for so many nights. Then, he stood up and all while holding your gaze, unbuckled his belt, and pushed his tight jeans down his thighs, finally unveiling his briefs as well as the shape sculpted beneath. When you saw it, you couldn’t help but think it was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. And not far below, hairy thighs came into view, thick with both muscle and a masculinity that made your legs open on instinct.

As you lied there, wide open, on full display for him, you felt the cold air hitting your folds, signaling you were already dripping. It wouldn’t be hard to take him in, given your current state. You felt more than ready. Or so you thought.

Because when his underwear joined your panties on the floor and you finally saw it, you realized he was all you had imagined and more. So much more. Imposing, curved, veiny down to the pink tip, which was already glistening with anticipation. He was all that, and most notably, he was thick. Very thick.

“I have low pain tolerance.” You found yourself joking, looking straight into his handsome naked form. He just chuckled as he joined you on the bed.

“I won’t hurt you.” He said with a sweet tone that contrasted his deep, husky voice. “No harm will ever come to you. Not as long as I’m here.” Was his promise as he hovered over you. “Not from me. Not from anyone else.” You nodded, something about him, probably the sincerity in his eyes or the gentleness in his voice, taking you back to that day out in the field, beyond the walls. A place and a time that now seemed so far, where despite the columns of black smoke ominously rising above the horizon, you knew you would be okay somehow. As long as you didn’t lose sight of the wings of freedom on his back.

Without looking away from your eyes, he ran his fingers through your wet slit, making you quiver. But he didn’t need to double check, you knew this was as wet, slick and ready as you would get. When he positioned himself to finally give you what you desired, you felt the need to confess something, not knowing exactly why.

“Commander, it’s been a while.” He stopped right at the moment the tip met your folds, looking at you with a hint of confusion. “I haven’t been with anyone in a while.” Virgin or not, it would mean little against someone like him, because with that size, you were sure he would feel like a first time for anyone.

He placed a soft, reassuring kiss on your lips. “I’ll be gentle, okay?” You nodded, feeling both nervous and impatient. “Do you trust me?” He waited for you to nod again before finally pushing inside you.

next chapter

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108 notes · View notes

arteastica · 5 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (17)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 4.1k

“Let me see.” You took the notebook from him, your head resting on his shoulder as your eyes scanned the paper. “Oh! Very impressive. I can understand almost everything.”

“Well, if you want to get better at something all you have to do is practice.” He held the paper away from his face and tilted it slightly, as if trying to get a new perspective. “Practice and practice every time you get the chance to. And, sitting on this bed all day, I can confidently say that I have had way too many of those.”

You stared at him as he rolled his wrist and went back to writing. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for being so strict about the things he was or wasn’t allowed to do. However, this thought process was already all too familiar to your brain, and you had learned how to deal with it over course of the last few weeks: All you had to do was remind yourself that everything was for his own good, and the guilt would automatically start to fade.

You were taking care of him exactly like the doctor had advised, and if the satisfied nods he gave to himself whenever he came to check up on the Commander were anything to go by, you were happy to report it all seemed to be working. The horrible fevers were finally gone, and so was the discharge from his wound. And, not only that, but every time he held your hand, you could tell his grip was getting firmer and stronger.

Life seemed to be slowly going back to normal, not just for him, but for everyone at the headquarters. Well, at least as normal as things could get after everything that had happened. The incident with Reiner and Bertolt had taken a toll on every member of the 104th Training Corps, especially on Eren and Connie, who were the closest to them, even though they wouldn’t admit to it. And, although you hadn’t seen Krista since the Summer, when she had been sent to Squad Leader Miche’s base, you could only imagine how affected she had to be by Ymir’s absence.

And, speaking of Squad Leader Miche, you couldn’t believe he was gone. And not only that, but the circumstances of his passing were downright traumatizing. You had struggled to fall asleep for several nights after filing his death report. The testimonies of those who witnessed th-

“What do you think of this one?” The Commander’s voice pulled you out of the disturbing headspace you had slowly started to sink into.

“I think it’s not fair that your handwriting is prettier than mine when that isn’t even your dominant hand.”

He had been practicing how to write with his left hand for weeks now. That, along with daily walks along the forest path, which by the way had started as a way for him to get some fresh air, but that now had turned into his excuse to wander around the castle supervising everything and everyone, were the only things he was allowed to do under your strict care. But now that the risk of his wound reopening was minimal, you couldn’t wait for him to go back to his routine. You knew that would help him recover faster.

He also received regular visits from Captain Levi and Captain Hange, and they would plot things for hours behind closed doors. Fortunately, you didn’t have to worry about the Commander overexerting himself, because Captain Levi was as much, if not much more, inflexible than you were about what the Commander was or wasn’t allowed to do. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate cutting the meetings short if needed.

As for you and what your days looked like lately, well, you had practically moved to the office. If your mother knew, she would probably say you were married to your job. In fact, there were only two places someone looking for you would need to go in order to find you: your desk or his bed.

During the day, your hand never stopped gliding over papers and seemingly endless reports, and you only got up from your chair if you needed his signature or something from another department. And, during the night, well, you spent most of them with him.

You had stopped sleeping in your room; choosing to stay and keep him company instead. Although his body was recovering well, you were still concerned about his mental health. He was strong and resilient. You knew that. In his time as the 13th Commander, and throughout his whole life really, he had probably overcome numerous tragic situations like these, but the thing is…never without a limb. This was a first. And his dominant hand at that, the one that he needed for virtually everything. So, all things considered, you had decided to accompany him, to stand by him, as he learned to go about his day using his left hand instead.

But, as inappropriate as these thoughts were in nature, and as ashamed as you felt for having them in these moments when everyone, on a personal level and the Scouts as a whole, was going through tough times, you had to admit it was hard to spend most nights in his room, on his bed, breathing his scent, all while not being able to climb on top and have him make love to you.

There were nights when you felt as if you were fighting some sort of addiction, and, at the risk of sounding dramatic, you were pretty confident this was some type of withdrawal experience you were having. The half of the winter holidays you hadn’t spent tormenting yourself over his ex-lover, you had spent fingering yourself to the melodic sound of his voice whispering your name, rubbing your clit to the indecent wet noises he had made when sliding in and out of you that night.

Some nights, especially the coldest ones, when you would snug closer to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck, you had to confess it had taken everything in you not to kiss his inviting skin, not to trace that tempting vein with your tongue. And, needless to say, it had taken everything in you not to reach inside his pants and let your hand tell him how much you had missed him.

And, for some reason you couldn’t explain, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his thick, remarkable eyebrows locked in a frown of concentration, as his impossibly blue eyes stared at you from between your thighs, and his tongue told your clit all sorts of secrets.

Sadly, however, all you could do was imagine what that would feel like. Because the doctor had been very clear: Refrain from any violent movement or strenuous activity that could hurt his wound. And although, you didn’t ask, you were certain that sex, especially the type you craved and needed, fell under one or both of those categories.

“Well, like I said, practice can only make you better.” He said suddenly, and you honestly had forgotten what he was even replying to. He looked so innocent, eyes glued on his notebook, his inexperienced left hand trying its best to hold the pen, and the remnants of a smile still present on his lips. You knew you shouldn’t, but maybe you could get away with blaming his cotton shirt and the way it clung to the muscles of his broad, sculpted chest; or his tongue and that innocent lick it gave his lips every so often… It all reminded you of a question you wanted to ask that night, when he first made love to you.

“Is that why you are so good in bed?” The moment those words left your mouth, and even before that really, you scolded yourself. You knew you shouldn’t, but you also didn’t know better. Both, your pussy and you, were practically starving, and in such critical condition, decisions are not necessarily rational.

You looked up at him, chin resting on his shoulder, your eyes widening out of hunger more than curiosity. “Did you get a lot of practice over the years?”

He turned to look at you, the way his eyes started devouring your lips instantly getting things tingling in all the right places, especially the very specific bundle of nerves between your legs. It was honestly ridiculous how ready you were for him all the time.

“I hope you’re aware of how unfair that is.” He said, his lips looking more inviting than ever. “Saying that when we both know you are not going to let me touch you.”

You had to admit it was unfair. You were not clueless, you had indeed noticed the way his longing fingers would invite themselves under your nightgown in the late hours, or the way they would linger on your thigh for dangerous periods of time when you were cuddling. And you were also aware of how much self-restraint had been required in order to decline the invitation he was so readily extending. It would have been so easy for you to act on it, you knew he would have welcomed your tongue or your hand gladly.

You sighed and climbed on top of him, choosing to take responsibility for your actions. “I know, and I’m sorry. This one is totally on me.” You couldn’t hide the smile that took over your lips, and in all honesty, you didn’t even try. You locked your hands behind his neck, and lost your gaze into those eyes you would never get tired of seeing. Those deep blue eyes that were to your skin what raindrops to the cobblestones on the hottest day of the summer. And you wondered what harm could a short, sweet kiss do?

“Just a kiss. Okay?” You warned, not even waiting for him to nod before closing the distance between you.

It was not like your lips hadn’t touched at all in the last few weeks. Since you had been staying in his room, of course you wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to kiss him good morning and good night. But it wasn’t the same. Because there was something about finally getting to sit on his lap again, something about the firm grip of his hand on the back of your neck, something about the way he was able to change and control your breathing with a single movement of his tongue. It was like going home after spending an entire life away.

And for a moment, somewhere between his hand pushing your face even closer to his, your mouth opening wider and his tongue reaching deeper, just as the first moan escaped your lips, you felt like you were in your little bubble again. Closed off from the rest of the world, from the loss, the tragedy, the mourning, your insecurities, and the weight of his responsibilities as commander.

And you wondered if it would be possible for the bubble to burst from the inside out. Because your chest was now so full. So full that nothing, not even air, could fit anymore. And maybe that was the reason behind your erratic, shallow breathing; and why you felt as if you were drowning in air.

In his lips.

Your brain was desperately asking you to breathe, but any plea would be effectively hushed by the obscene sounds now leaving your mouth. The rest of your body couldn’t hear the orders, and that would explain why you were completely unable to stop kissing him. And, judging by the way his kiss had turned messy, his lips now devouring the corners of your mouth and your jaw indiscriminately, you could tell he was also finding it hard to stop himself.

His fingers, now completely entangled with your hair, made you think of how different this all felt. So different from the gentle, sweet lovemaking he had showed you the first night you were together. This time, there was something in the air, a raw intensity in the moment, something that was now making his lips abuse a particular spot on your neck, and your fingers, grasp his soft, golden strands.

“Goodness, I miss you so much.” You said, a whisper, the only thing that was able to come out of your breathless lungs. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, as you desperately gasped for air.

And maybe it was the way he started undoing the top buttons of your shirt, or the fact that his face was now buried in the space between your breasts, but you started to feel possessive very quickly. And a very specific person came to mind. She didn’t have a face, because you had never met her. But your insecurities knew her personally.

You looked down and contemplated the way his mouth ravaged your cleavage, his eyes closed and brow furrowed as his lips sucked on the soft, plump skin of your breasts. There was something about seeing his face next to the laces of your bra, and your fingers laced into the base of his soft, blond hair. It hit you: It was your chest his face was buried into. It was the lacework of your underwear the one providing the frame to his gorgeous face. It was your breasts the ones making his brow furrow like that. It was your scent the one making him press his nose so desperately against your skin. It was your body the one he was going feral over.

This was your man. Yours only.

“Commander, I hate the thought of you thinking about a-anyone else.” You said in between moans, moans that his tongue needed to take full responsibility for. “I- I hate to think about your hand sliding under- ah” Speaking of his hand, the way it suddenly squeezed your breast made it increasingly impossible for you to speak. “Under her skirt, or your lips giving her anything other than a quick, a-and very uninterested smile.” You managed to confess, and you wouldn’t blame him if he started to wonder where the fuck had all this come from. After all, he had no way of knowing about the mental breakdowns you had over the possibility of him still loving someone else. “I want your eyes on me. And me only.”

“Well, those are not thoughts you need to concern yourself with.” He stopped ravaging your breasts, and you found yourself hoping it was only momentarily, choosing to lock eyes with you instead. Goodness, you swore there were times that blue could burn so hot. “Because, as far as skirts go…” His fingers trailed along the curve of your ass, until they reached your thigh. “There’s only one my fingers want to slide under.” You took a sudden, violent breath. “It was light blue, silky, tight and so sinfully tempting…”

“I wore it just for you.” You reminded him, hands letting go of his hair and resting on his chest for support as you leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “And I can wear it for you again, anytime you want.” Or I can wear nothing at all, you were tempted to add.

“You know, when I saw you in that little dress,” his lips curved into a subtle smirk, while his hand drew dangerous patterns on your leg, “I had so many thoughts. And each one was more indecent than the other.”

“Like what?” Your eyes bored into his, eagerly waiting for an answer they already had a pretty good guess about.

“I wondered if you would mind my fingers sneaking in through that slit.” You gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, as if you were about to fall and it was the only thing available to hold on to. “The one in your dress.” He said as his fingertips caressed the tight fabric of your jeans. “And despite how perfect it looked on you, I couldn’t stop thinking that it would look even better on the floor, discarded and forgotten,” he leaned in to whisper, soft and slow against your lips, “along with your panties, in case you were wearing any.”

An obscene whimper escaped your lips as soon as those words left his, and vivid images of him pulling your soaked underwear down and immediately burying his face in between your legs made you clench around nothing. He had talent. You had to admit. So much talent to get into the deepest, most intimate and sensitive parts of yourself with such immaculate smoothness.

“I was, but very little.” You confessed, holding his gaze, as his hand squeezed your thigh tightly. You knew it was just waiting for you to grant him entrance.

So you did.

“Just like the one I’m wearing now.”

Immediately after those words, you felt his hand on you, cupping your pussy; the sudden contact making you groan loudly. His lips, now grazing against your ear, barely touching as they whispered:

“You don’t know how much I want to make love to you right now.” But you knew, the yearning touch of his hand between your legs, fondling you, gave it away. His hot breath in your ear was disarming, and you had no choice but to lean in, to melt into the sweet nothings he had begun to whisper with that smoky voice of his. “I wish you’d let me…” He took your earlobe in between his teeth, pulling it softly. “Because I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel…” You writhed and squirmed against his hand “…And about all the things I would do to you.”

His voice was deeper than the forest, and his words felt like velvet in your ears.

“What things?” You took shallow, loud breaths; eyes closed, basking in all the sensations offered by his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your ear. “What things would you do to me, Commander?” You asked, and you could hear a very faint voice inside your head scolding you for feeding into this. And you tried to remind yourself of the doctor instructions, you really did, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating. It chose to let out another desperate sound instead, one that came directly from between your legs, where your soaked panties were proof of how much you anticipated his answer. You never knew you could need someone’s cock this badly.

“Anything to make you feel good, like you deserve.” His hand, still between your legs all this time, gave you a not-so-gentle squeeze. “Princess.”

You moaned loudly, unable to stop your hips from rolling on his lap. You had to admit that last word sounded exceptionally melodic on his lips.

“Just tell me what you want me to do to you and I will.”

And the honest answer left your mouth before you could stop it.

“I want you to taste me, Commander.” You said, and not in a shy way, as you opened your eyes to look straight into his. You took notice of his pretty lips, now slightly parted, and couldn’t help but imagine how soft they would feel between your legs instead. “I want you to make me come.” You slid your hand down his strong, solid chest, as you leaned forward to confess your fantasy. “With your tongue only.” You could feel him harden under your words, his excitement deliciously poking at your inner thigh, making you repeat your wish. “Please make me come, Commander.”

He studied your face, as your heart restlessly awaited for his response. And, although you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you could tell, thanks to the desperate squirming of your hips against his erection, that you needed him between your legs immediately, and that any part of his body would be welcomed.

“Is that so? And where would that be?” He asked after a while, his velvety voice sliding into your ear, and reaching every inch of your body. And although, you were certain he had perfectly understood what you meant, who were you to deny him the explicit answer to that question?

“Against your lips, Commander.” You confessed, stealing a glance at those very lips you wished to be devoured by. “In your tongue. All over your face.”

“So sweet.” His hand finally slipped inside your pants, not even bothering to unbutton your jeans. “I bet you taste so sweet.”

You shivered under the icy blue of his eyes, or maybe it was because of the cold fingertips now touching the wet fabric of your panties, delicately playing with your clit.

“So warm.” He complimented you.

“So pretty.” His fingers traced your slit gently, from bottom to top. “Just as those sounds you make.”

You smiled, closing your eyes, before throwing your head back, granting his lips full access to your neck. And just as they went back to sucking on that same spot from earlier, his fingers pushed your panties to the side and boldly slid inside your wet folds.

You jerked your hips on instinct, moaning at the exquisite intrusion. You wanted his tongue to make you come, but goodness, you loved being fingered by him. You loved to have his middle and ring finger inside, sliding in and out with such dexterity, controlling your breath as well as the sounds that came out of you.

“Fuck, I love to have your fingers inside me.” You lowered your head and moaned against his shoulder, trying not to be too loud in the middle of the day, when there were people walking the corridors just some feet away. But it was hard, the sitting position you were in allowed you to move in a way you could get his fingers as deep and fast as you needed. “Deeper, Commander. Please.”

As his fingers pushed further inside your hole, you realized you could be here all day. “You feel so good right there, Commander. Yes, just like that ah-” Or maybe not. Because the pleasant warmth that started to build up in your lower belly when he curled a finger inside, and his thumb started circling your clit, told you that you wouldn’t last long.

“Fuck, Commander, you’re going to make me come. I-I’m so close.” Your forehead was resting against his shoulder, and all you could hear was the wet sounds escaping from between your legs.

Until, all of a sudden, his fingers stopped moving. And, before you could react, you felt his lips against your ear.

“Lie down and spread your legs for me, princess.”

You would have been frustrated by the disrespectful way in which he pulled his fingers out of you, just mere seconds before your orgasm. You would have, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t be mad when his tongue was about to make all your dreams come true. So you leaned back, propping yourself up on your elbows. And, doing as you were told, you spread your legs wide open for him, as your fingers impatiently reached for the button of your pants. But, just as you were about to undo them, he placed his hand over yours.

You looked up to find out what was wrong, and when you locked eyes and he silently, and rather commandingly, shook his head, you understood. He would take care of it all, and everything left for you to do was sit back and enjoy.

As you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, a mix of pleasure and anticipation made your lips curve delightedly.

“Erwin.” You shut your eyes wide open, completely freezing on the spot when you heard something you weren’t expecting.

Captain Levi’s unmistakable voice.

The knock on the door seemed to be the sign your muscles needed in order to start functioning again, because then, you jumped off the bed. Your hands, completely at a loss, didn’t know if they should button up your shirt or fix your hair first.

“Come in.” The Commander said seconds before Captain Levi’s face appeared at the door.

He eyed you suspiciously before turning to the Commander and doing the same. You then saw his lips separate and his tongue move around his mouth as if trying to choose which words to say.

“Who’s in charge of running this place if you both are busy doing whatever it is that you were doing?”

“Sir, I apologize, sir. I- I was on lunch break, sir. I will go back to the office right now.” You nodded to both the Commander and Captain Levi before retreating back to your desk, actually surprised you could walk, given the throbbing dissatisfaction you were now carrying between your legs.

next chapter

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arteastica · 4 months

Text

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (21)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (22) | (23) | (22) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 2.4k

“Are you going to him?”

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?”

Authoritative. Overbearing. Rude. Those were not words you would’ve used to describe his tone. How could you, when there was nothing to describe? His voice was just empty, dry and cold. Much like the winter you could see inside his eyes.

“Who?” You asked, unable to think of anything other than how this was the first time you had locked eyes with him in what felt like a lifetime. And things had surely changed in there. Traces of that dependable kindness you remembered, or that ever-present warmth you always found in him, were nowhere to be seen, but there was something new in their place. And, although you weren’t exactly sure what it was, one thing was for certain: you didn’t like it. “If you could explain, maybe I-”

“I asked you a question.” He spoke calmly and clearly, in a quiet and monotone voice. The type that is typically used when kindly disagreeing with strangers, because it is hard to imagine someone could get offended by it.

Yet you did.

You did, because never before, not even back then when you were perfect strangers who had never shared a bed, had his voice sounded so impersonal, flat, and devoid.

And it hurt.

So very much.

His voice, like the gentle tapping of raindrops on the roof an early Sunday morning, like the gleeful ring of the school bell right before the summer begins, that caramel voice he had always used with you, a voice that was just as easy to fall in love with as it was on the ears… had never sounded so dull and toneless before. Almost as if it belonged to somebody else, to someone else’s boss maybe, one who was very tired, and very dissatisfied with his assistant’s performance.

Could it be that in the end, hundreds of nights after you started working for him, just when you thought you had it all figured out… Could if be that finally the inevitable had happened? Did you end up disappointing him after all? Regardless of how hard you had tried to avoid such an outcome?

No.

You refused.

You had worked so hard to prove yourself wrong. To show yourself that, even though you didn’t have Mikasa’s skill, Reiner’s strength, Eren’s determination, Jean’s leadership, Sasha’s charisma, or Armin’s wits, you had whatever was left, and for eight months at least, that had seemed to be good enough.

It was here, at the Survey Corps, as his assistant, where you had finally been given a taste of confidence, and for the first time in a lifetime of self doubt, felt like you belonged, like you were enough. So no, you refused to let today become the day that was going to change.

And like so, you tried to search for an answer through the confusing haze that was your head, you tried to search for clues despite the invisible chord tightly wrapped around your neck. And, in such state of distress, there was only one you could think of.

“Leon?” When the name left your lips, you swore you saw something flicker in his eyes, maybe an indication that your guess was correct. And you didn’t know if he found your answer helpful, because in your case, it only left you with even more questions. “I- Commander I don’t understand. Why does it matter?”

“That’s an answer I was hoping I could get from you.” He replied, very matter-of-factly, and you wished he would show some sort of emotion, raise his voice, frown, click his tongue, shake his head, anything, so you could at least get a clue of where this conversation was heading to. Because right now you had no idea where Leon fit into this.

And no, by the way, you weren’t going to meet him. Turns out you and him didn’t have a lot to talk about after all, unlike what Lord Koch had suggested. You enjoyed his fascinating tales and refreshing perspectives for about an hour or so. Then, you drank some tea in the dining hall, where he asked for your opinion on some poem he had written on his way here, and after that, you took him to see Jean, with whom apparently he did have a lot to talk about. And although they were both too polite to explicitly ask you to leave, you read the room, and it told you in capital letters that they needed space to catch up. And like so, you had decided to retreat to your office, where for some reason only the Commander seemed to know, you were currently being interrogated about whether you had plans to meet your friend that night.

“I’m not going t-” Wait. You stopped in your tracks, letting the sudden idea cross your mind first so it wouldn’t run you over. “Do you think that-? Oh. Commander- I- there’s nothing between us. He’s just a friend.”

“Is that so?” He replied, and it only took one peek into his midnight eyes to know that he didn’t believe you. “If that’s the case, then why did he-”

He seemed to reconsider his options just seconds before completing his sentence, choosing instead a long sigh as replacement for whatever words were supposed to come out of his lips. And you swore he had never looked and sounded so exhausted before.

“Forgive me. It was never my place to ask questions I probably made you very uncomfortable with.” Being the artful, calculating leader of the Survey Corps, he knew very well how to compose himself swiftly and without leaving any emotional traces. “You may go.” He sure knew how to choose his battles and when to retreat.

But that was him. Not you.

“No.” You said, surprising even yourself. “Then why what? What is it that you wanted to ask?” You tried to watch the tone of your words. He was your boss, after all. But it was not easy, and you wondered if this was the same kind of frustration the sun feels when it tries to shine but clouds just keep getting on its way. “What makes you think that there’s something between Leon and I?”

He didn’t answer, choosing to stare at you instead. And if he was trying to read you, then it was certainly a fair game, because you were doing just the same. Only that, it wasn’t easy to see anything beyond the darkness in his eyes.

It would be so simple, to fix things. He just needed to tell you why he thought there was something between you and Leon, and then you could sort it out. Then, you could explain to him why he was wrong. Whatever the misunderstanding, you were sure that if given the chance to explain, he would understand. He would understand that Leon was just a friend, that you weren’t even that close, and that a small present didn-

“A box of figs?” You suddenly asked, praying that this wasn’t the answer, because the idea made you feel like it was lava flowing through your veins. “Is this about the figs? Because if it is-” You snorted and looked at the ceiling, in part because you wished you could find another, more logical answer there, but more so because you needed to contain whatever emotions were threatening to spill out of your eyes. “Do you think I’m going to fall in love with him because he gave some candies?” You still weren’t ready to look at him, but you needed his eyes to answer the question you were about to ask. You knew they wouldn’t lie. So, against any type of survival instinct and without any kind of protection, you ventured into the snow storm that were his eyes. “Do you think I fell for you because you bought me a damn box of figs? Didn’t know I looked that easy.”

“You know that’s not-”

“Then what?!”

“Of course it’s not about the figs.” He stood up abruptly, and the change in his voice told you that there was something else. Maybe a lot more, judging by the closed fist now hanging to his side.

You wanted to be patient. To stay calm, and polite, and collected, and all those pretty adjectives they say you need in order for communication to flourish. But, as you looked into his eyes, you only felt more and more hurt.

To think you had spent the last few nights wide awake, asking the ceiling why he didn’t love you back, not daring to close your eyes because every time you did, you only saw him, smiling in sepia flashbacks of what once was, but wasn’t anymore. And yet, here he was, questioning your loyalty and whether you were seeing another man behind his back.

It was suffocating. Staying in this room, where even the air screamed his name. But if that was the issue, then you weren’t sure there was a place you could escape to. Because, even when it came to your own body, you struggled to think of a single patch of skin he hadn’t kissed, a single part of yourself where his touch didn’t linger.

“You know what. I wasn’t going to meet him, but now I might.” You heard a wry snort escape your lips, just in time for your vision to get blurry. “Because being with a friend is better anyway than going to my room to spend another night crying about you.” You took a step towards the door, but turned around when you heard him push his chair back. “It’s so unfair, you know. So unbelievably unfair.” The cracks in your voice warned you that if you kept talking you were going to break, but if you didn’t tell him now then when? “All I do is think about you, day and night, and you think I can’t wait to finish my shift so I can spend time with another man? You know how unbelievably un-”

“And you think it’s easy for me?” He took a step closer. And now that the desk wasn’t in between, you felt even more vulnerable. “One moment I’m holding you and you’re calling me by my name, and the next, you’re not even looking my way. And then-” He shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the urge to say more. And you were honestly done begging him to tell you what it was. “I agree. It’s so unfair.”

“And do you think I just woke up one day and said ‘you know what, I’m going to ignore him’?” You hated it. How even in this situation, your body craved his touch, his scent, his lips. “Do you think I wanted this to stop?” And how bad you needed him to hold you right now. “What we had.” Like the first time, so many nights ago, in the Forest of Giant Trees. “Whatever it was.” You hated how tempted you were to throw yourself into his arms, bury your face in his chest and cry. “Do you think I would purposely ruin it all up?” Cry until his white shirt was all wet, and disgusting, and messed up. “The early mornings, the rainy afternoons, even the late night shifts…” You hated that you wanted him to run a soothing hand across your back and tell you that it was going to be okay. That this wasn’t the end. “…The good nights.” Oh, the good nights… you hated how bad you missed the sight of his bare back under the moonlight, left cheek squished against the pillow, freckles on his shoulders like stars on the midnight sky. “The sex.”

And most of all, you hated how little sense it all made. Why did it have to end when there was still so much left? Why did you have to close the book when there were still entire chapters you wanted to write? And why were your lungs acting as if you had just outrun a horde of titans, when your feet had been planted there the whole time?

In front of him.

Close to his warm body.

So close it took him less than a second to pull you by the waist, and make you lean against the desk, your chest rising and falling against his, in clumsy attempts to manage whatever little oxygen was available in the room. And it was either the lack of air, or the hard wood uncomfortably poking the back of your thighs, but your legs felt as firm as a house of cards. And, anticipating they would give in anytime now, your hands promptly reached for the firm, solid muscles of his chest.

And there in his hold, with his heart beating under your palm, and your insides feeling as fizzy as the contents of the glasses some merrier souls were clinking at the dining hall just a few rooms away, you realized his eyes were mirroring back the same questions you had been asking just moments ago.

There in his hold, with his strong arm possessively wrapped around your waist, and his left thigh finding its way between your legs, you felt reclaimed, like a crumpled up piece of paper that had been picked up again after spending countless nights discarded on the cold floor.

His glacial eyes were to your skin what raindrops to the cobblestones on the hottest day of the summer, and as you stared into them, realized it had been ages since you had seen the color blue. And now that you looked closer, close enough to see the speckles of brown in his irises, you weren’t actually sure if there was something new in there, or if something was missing instead. What had he seen today in the field? What had he learned out there? Or perhaps, what had he lost?

“What happened?” Determined to find out, you placed the question against his lips. Softly, like the kisses he would cover you in not too many nights ago.

“Erwin.” His name left your lips like a plea, almost as if it held the key to all the answers you were looking for.

But the only thing you got for a reply, was his hand on the back of your neck, so warm it burned, his thumb pushing your jaw and tilting your head back, leaving your neck completely exposed to him.

“You.” His lips whispered against the tender skin of your neck, making it impossible for you to resist the need to lean against the thick, well-muscled thigh that he, being the gentleman he is, had so readily provided between your legs. “That’s what happened.”

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

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arteastica · 5 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (18)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 3.1k

You opened your eyes slowly, the gentle glow of the nearby fireplace making your eyelids feel significantly heavier, and leading you to wonder if you had woken up too early. You tried to find the answer in a nearby window, but it didn’t tell you much, as the sky was an ambiguous, dark shade of blue.

“Morning.” Never mind. The answer came to you in the form of a pleasant, raspy voice that also explained why the window you had been staring at didn’t look like the one you were used to wake up to.

“Morning.” You replied, the hoarseness present in your voice contrasting the soft smile you were sending his way, as well as the gentle peck you planted on his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was three weeks ago.”

“Good.” You cupped his face with both hands, unable to erase the smile from your face as your thumb lovingly stroke his bottom lip. It had been a tough month, but his arm had finally healed. Almost. “The doctor said you can go back to work next week.” You meant officially, because he had been sneaking into his office late at night. You knew because things on his desk had mysteriously started to shift positions during the night. And you suddenly wondered if this had been one of those times as well. Had he even gotten any sleep at all?

“Since when are you awake? It’s still so early.” You glanced at the window. There wasn’t even the slightest tinge of orange, or pink, or even light blue in the sky.

“Not long ago.” He replied, and you found yourself wondering if you could actually believe his words. But you didn’t entertain that thought for long, his tousled bed hair was way too distracting. It was artfully messy; chaotic in the most endearing of ways. And it made you think of how rare this sight was. Almost as if the well-groomed 13th Commander of the Survey Corps was a completely different person from the one you had beside you right now. And those long, golden strands that were falling on his face, as well as the way they framed those hypnotizing blue eyes you were staring into… it all made you think about how much you wanted to see him like this more often, about how much you would like to wake up next to him more often. Would the rest of your life be too much to ask?

“Did you know sometimes you talk in your sleep?” He suddenly asked.

“I didn’t. Do I? I hope I didn’t say anything inappropriate.” You wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But in all honesty, who could blame you for that? Because even right now, in full possession of your faculties, you were finding it significantly difficult not to react in a very unladylike way at the sight of that broad, well-muscled, and most noticeably, very shirtless chest you had woken up to.

You studied the way the fireplace flames delineated his features, and decided to follow them as they traced his defined jawline, before gliding down his bare chest, lushly covered with light-brown hair. You then contemplated the intricate shapes they drew on his tight abdominal muscles, before parting ways a little below his navel, where you found yourself wanting to follow that trail of thick hair that continued way beyond the waist band of his pants. And you saw nothing stopping you, so why would you get in your own way?

Feeling your heart wake up inside your chest, and anticipation, between your legs, you climbed on his lap, straddling him before even explaining yourself.

“You can’t just sit there, look like that and pretend I won’t ask for morning sex.” You said, and without wasting a second, sneaked a hand into his lose pants, holding him firmly. The doctor hadn’t mentioned anything about abstaining from strenuous activities during his last visit.

“I never pretended such a thing.” A complicit smile decorated his lips, as they released a pleased hum at your touch. And you smiled too, feeling him harden against your fingers.

“So what? You were just sitting there waiting for me to wake up?” He nodded, and his eyelids, heavy with pleasure, were threatening to fall shut. “What a gentleman.” You leaned forward, taking his lips in a slow, decadent kiss, the type that you had learned you both enjoyed.

It was as if your tongues were dancing a waltz they were already very familiar with. And, if the hums he was chanting against your lips were anything to go by, it would be safe to assume your hand wasn’t performing so bad for its first time pleasuring him. Your fingers were diligently learning about his personal preferences, about the way he liked to be touched.

“However.” You interrupted a couple of strokes later, satisfied with the way he was now standing proudly, menacingly poking the fabric of his cotton pants. “I’m not going to pretend I can take something that size without some sort of preparation first.” You smirked before climbing back down and sitting on an empty space in front of him. Then, spreading your legs wide, you invited his eyes under the skirt of your nightdress.

He watched you attentively, lips slightly parted and eyes having a hard time choosing between your face and your panties. But, determined to help him decide, you slipped off your underwear, clearing any doubts about where his attention should be going towards.

Then, scanning his face as if reading an instruction manual, you brought your hand between your legs, where you started to stroke your folds gently, running your fingertips up and down your drenched slit.

“I’m so wet for you, Commander.” You could tell by the look on his face that, in his mind, he was already doing all sorts of things to you. And you had to admit that even if he wasn’t touching any part of your body, his eyes on you, completely devouring your pussy, were enough stimuli. “Look how wet you got me already.” You said, taking your glistening fingers to your lips and completely stuffing your mouth, just like your dripping hole dreamed to be in that very moment. “Commander, I can’t wait to feel you inside me again.” You licked your forefinger slowly, eyes closed and brow furrowed as you imagined it was him instead. Meanwhile, your other hand delicately caressed your slick folds, soaked with both arousal and anticipation. “Commander, please. I need you inside me.”

“I think you need to stretch it more first.” He said, mouth hanging slightly open, and eyes held captive between your legs.

“Like this, Commander?” To your own ears, you suddenly started sounding compliant and even submissive. Maybe it was your words or the tone of your voice. You didn’t know. But, at this point, you actually didn’t know anything. Just that it all felt so good. It was delicious, to touch yourself in front of him, with your legs wide apart, your head thrown all the way back, and your eyes closed, as if asking him to guide you.

“Just like that. Good girl.” His husky, deep voice was already a compliment in and on itself, and inspired your hand to start working harder, causing your movements to grow more and more violent, and your moans, louder with each desperate rub of your fingers on your clit.

“You don’t know how much I wish you were the one touching me, Commander.” You confessed, pushing your middle finger inside; and even though he seemed to be nothing but a mere spectator, you had no doubt that he was the one controlling you, because there was no way your own brain could. It was totally out of it, too overwhelmed by the sensations that your fingertips were so assiduously creating inside, and as a result, you were barely able to speak or think beyond the lewd sounds escaping from between both your lips and your legs.

And, truth be told, your own touch didn’t even feel that good. It was the thought of him watching you the one arousing you. It was the fact that you were touching yourself in front of him, on his bed, your juices dripping down your slit and soaking his bedsheets.

“So tight.” He said, his voice almost a growl. “You have the tightest little hole.” You couldn’t help but moan loudly at his words, his compliment reaching your ears and caressing them like the softest of velvets.

“Can I take you now, Commander?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I don’t want to hurt you, princess.” You had in fact heard him, but it’s just that, it was such a lonely place without his dick. “You’re still so tight. Take your sweet time.”

You listened and obeyed, adding a second finger to join your lonely digit, as it slid in and out of you. You knew this was as ready as you would get, and you suspected he did too. He most probably knew, and just wanted to watch you pleasure yourself. But, who were you to refuse your Commander’s orders?

“Just like that.” You felt like he was whispering straight into your ear. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

“You don’t have to wait.” You reminded him, in case the ungodly wet sounds filling the room, as your fingers desperately slid in and out of you, weren’t enough indication. “Do you want me to come for you now, Commander? Because I’m so close right now.” You released a louder and even needier moan. “I- I’m so c-close.”

You felt your muscles tensing, gearing up for the delicious orgasm you had created together. But that was before he yanked your hand away, abruptly pulling your fingers out of your clenching hole.

“I guess that means I’m ready for you.” You concluded, eyes smirking mischievously as you let him guide you to his lap, where you pulled down his pants in one swift, desperate motion; just enough so his massive cock could spring out free.

“Goodness.” You groaned, unable to keep your brow from furrowing in desperation, admiring that perfect curve, as well as that thick, glistening tip, and especially that deliciously prominent vein that you suddenly felt like tracing with your tongue. “Can I take it now? Please.” You had never heard yourself sound so whiny and needy, and you would have felt embarrassed, you really would have. If you cared, if you weren’t that wet, and if his dick wasn’t that beautiful. “Please fill me up now, Commander.”

Please fuck me now.

“Anything for my princess.” You couldn’t stop the sudden urge to kiss him. He was so sweet, so gentle. Always so kind… generous… and giving. Even letting you sink into his perfect dick.

As your lips tasted his, you positioned yourself, one hand grabbing his hard erection and aligning it with your entrance. Then, you pulled away so you could stare directly into each other’s eyes as you became one for the second time.

And then, you let it happen.

You let yourself fall onto his generous cock slowly, your mouth opening wider the lower you sank. And so did his. The way his brow furrowed harder the deeper he got, told you that he too had forgotten how good it felt.

“You’re so damn handsome. I think I can come just from that look on your face alone.” You said, almost out of breath.

He chuckled, eyebrows still locked in a frown, as he helped you out of your silky nightdress. And after that, when you were completely bare in front of him, and him fully buried inside you, it didn’t take long for your breasts to start bouncing up and down, and your moans to grow louder and louder, as you started to fall into an addictive rhythm. And, as the smell of sex infused the cold morning air, you found yourself wishing this would never stop.

“Goodness, I could spend all day inside you.” He grunted, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Good, because you could spend all day riding him.

“Fuck, Commander I’m-”

“Just call me Erwin.”

“Erwin. You feel so good. You’re already making me come.” His name on your tongue felt just as good as he did inside you. It felt so right that for a second you thought you were going to cry, but maybe it was just due to the big intrusion now present between your legs. “Oh fuck!” You didn’t remember your first time together feeling like this. “Yes, just like that. You’re so-” There was a new element to this. “Big.” And maybe it was the euphoria, or the fact that your thoughts were all over the place, jumping around your head the same way your breasts were in front of him. “Erwin, you’re going to make me come.” Or maybe it was his name on your lips, and the fact that you were now allowed to use it at will. But something about the moment reminded you of the conversation you had with Hitch not so long ago; more specifically, about a certain question you had failed to provide an answer for. And, while you still didn’t know how to respond, you knew a few other things.

You knew that you really wanted to move to a secluded cabin in the woods with him, somewhere quiet, where you had nothing but the trees for company, where you heard nothing but the occasional birdsong sailing in the breeze, where your day changed directions according to the weather… somewhere you could fuck like this all day, every day.

“Fuck! I think I’m in love with your dick. I love it so much.”

“That’s it?” He asked, nails buried in the flesh of your ass, the same way yours were in the tight muscles of his shoulders. And his lips, now sucking at the tender skin of your breast, were making you delirious.

“No, you too! I’m in love with you too.” The moment those words left your mouth, his lips left your skin. And you noticed, of course you did. Of course you would notice the absence of his tongue on your nipple. You threw a quick glance his way to see what was wrong, but all you saw was his deep blue eyes staring back at yours.

At any other moment, you would have tried to read him, you would have tried to guess what was going on inside his head, but now, you were too busy riding his cock to pay any mind. Him inside you, hitting that one spot over and over, was way too distracting. So you just closed your eyes, head thrown back, your breasts bouncing violently now that his lips weren’t there to support them. “I love you, Commander.” You repeated, completely forgetting you were supposed to use his name now. “So fucking much it hurts.”

You were aware of what you said. At any other point in time, you would have been crushed by the weight of those words, but he was so big and so was the pleasure, and there was no space to entertain any other thoughts. So, with the help of his strong hand on your ass, you just kept riding him.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, enjoying the sensations he was so generously providing, or rather filling you up with. The scent of his skin reminded you of a fresh, aromatic bubble bath, after a long day. It was hard to put into words. He smelled so sweet. So sweet it was almost tangible, like the spun sugar your parents used to buy for you in the town fair all those years ago.

“I’m so close.” You nodded eagerly at his announcement, and although sudden, the words spoken in that deep, smoky voice of his didn’t interrupt the stream of sensations you were currently drowning in. If anything, they contributed to the fireworks exploding all over your skin, because you were already salivating at the thought of his warm, sweet cream filling you up. You would take it all. Gladly. It was like the dessert you had eaten the whole meal for. That one piece of cake you would enjoy even if you were already impossibly stuffed. Because it would be the only thing that could make this moment even more perfect, and this pleasure even more intense.

“Did you hear what I said, princess?” He repeated.

“Yes, yes, come inside me.” You said without hesitation. “Please. I need you to finish inside me. Comman- Erwin, please.” You kept moving your hips, slowly closing the distance between the present moment and his release.

“We can’t. You know that.”

“I don’t care. Just come inside me, Erwin. I want it. Please.”

I need it.

You felt his hand trying to fight against the rest of his body, against his desires, as it tried to lift you up so he could pull himself out. But you refused to cooperate, deciding to maintain the rhythm of your hips instead.

But then in one firm, desperate movement he pulled himself out, just seconds before his seed spilled all over your belly. You looked at him as he gave himself some final strokes, with your mouth slightly open, both in hunger and in disbelief. All your hard work, the release you had so diligently created for him, going to waste like that, and his hand being the one getting to finish the job you had seen through with such perseverance. You couldn’t help but feel it was unfair, like accidentally dropping the cake you had spent all afternoon baking.

You stared in silent, and you were sure he could see the disappointment in your eyes.

“I won’t apologize. You know it’s too dangerous.” He said, and you reluctantly let him pull you to his chest.

You did know. You were very logical, in fact. So you understood. What you didn’t understand, however, was why you were struggling to explain such a simple biological fact to yourself.

The rhythmic beating of his heart against your ear was persuading you into falling asleep again. And so was the warmth of his chest. And maybe you would have, if your mind hadn’t decided to wake up in that exact moment, actively creating thoughts you weren’t particularly excited about entertaining. But now that the high was gone and all was said and done, your busy head was the only one left to keep you company for the rest of the day; which by the way, would be starting soon, because somewhere between you saying some big words and him giving you an unclear response, the bubble had bursted, and the sky had turned a mellow shade of yellow.

next chapter

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arteastica · 4 months

Text

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 2.1k

If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.

For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.

You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.

Not without seeing him first.

Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.

Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.

You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.

That was the best feeling.

And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.

The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.

‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’

Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.

And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.

If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.

If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.

You wished you could. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.

Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.

He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.

They avoid love.

They don’t marry.

But, who was even talking about marriage?

Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.

And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.

You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.

And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.

But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.

Why would he say anything?

You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.

Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?

If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.

However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.

That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.

But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.

You rose up from your chair.

It may take her a while, but she always learned.

You walked towards the fireplace.

And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.

And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.

It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.

You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.

But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.

You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.

It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.

You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.

Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.

If you could.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.

He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.

So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.

You forced your eyes to look away.

Of course anyone would fall for him.

You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.

Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.

You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.

It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.

“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.

He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.

And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.

If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.

But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.

Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.

Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.

“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”

“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.

You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.

And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.

You really would have.

If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.

But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.

next chapter

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arteastica · 5 months

Text

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (19)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 2.7k

It was the kind of morning that encouraged the wearing of many layers. The thicker the better. And Sasha, who looked busy feeding soaked hay to the horses of a nearby stable, seemed to have reached that same conclusion before leaving her room that morning. You observed her as she struggled to drain the wet grass without dipping her fingers into the water, and realized you didn’t remember what she looked like under her scarf and wool hat.

Was this winter ever going to end?

The calendar gave a rather optimistic answer, but the weather seemed to be so very in love with the snow, and it didn’t look like it was letting go of its lover anytime soon.

You rubbed your gloved hands against each other and noticed how this was the first time you actually felt cold this season, even though the harshest days were already long behind. But back then, when low temperatures would make everyone complain, and the biting wind would paint their ears and fingers all shades of red, you could rely on your memories and the pleasant fire they lit within. And back then, you also had his body heat to keep you warm.

You glanced at the man standing beside you, his attention completely lost somewhere in the woods before him, and his hand, idly hanging to his side, looked especially inviting under this weather. And you wished you could reach out and take it, but you weren’t sure he would let you hold it.

His breath, turning into white mist as soon as it left his body, was clearly visible against the somber, almost starless twilight sky. His eyes were also a dark shade of blue this morning, and they seemed just as gelid as the sudden gust of wind that caused you to wrap your arms around yourself, rubbing your shoulders as you tried to shrink your body to a size that would be too tiny for the cold to spot.

“You can wait inside if you-”

“I’m fine.” You rushed to say, before realizing the hastiness in your voice risked coming across a little discourteous, and he was your boss after all. “It will start warming up once the sun rises a little more.” You explained, this time trying to soften your voice with a smile, a smile that you hoped didn’t look as unnatural and stiff as it felt on your own lips.

Yes, you had no doubt that the weather would warm up soon, because like a promise kept, the sun would always rise in the morning. And, as you thought about such kind of tacit, unspoken promises, you glanced up: The sky didn’t promise snow today. Maybe it would warm up a little after all.

But, was it really a promise or just your own foolish assumptions? In your case, there was always a bigger chance that it was the latter, and, therefore, throughout the years you had learned to not let yourself get too hopeful about things. That way, when it did snow later and you found your feet stuck under six inches of snow, buried so deep that you couldn’t move backwards and neither forwards, the disappointment wouldn’t hurt as much.

You could tell his eyes were on you, but you didn’t feel like looking back. Instead, you tried to find if there was even a single star still visible in the sky.

It had been almost a full week since he went back to work, and make no mistake, you were happy he did. You were glad to see him instead of the sad empty chair your eyes had been constantly met with for the past six weeks or so. However, it had also been a week since you moved back to your room. A full week since you last heard the raspy good mornings and lulling good nights he would whisper against your ear. A full week since you last engaged in any form of conversation that didn’t have the words ‘maintenance budget cuts’ or ‘decreasing staffing levels’ in them. A full week since you last saw him smile. At least at your way.

And most importantly, it had been a full week since you last felt the reassuring warmth of his lips against yours, and the sweet comfort of his arm around your body. A full week since you told him some very big words. And a full week since he didn’t say them back.

But, could you blame him for that? Not really, and you weren’t mad at him. Because, now that you had a lot of time to spend in the loneliness of your dark room, you started to consider the possibility that maybe he had his boundaries; and that maybe, just maybe, you had been overstepping them lately. Or who knows since when, to be honest.

There was something, however, that you knew very well.

You knew that the life of the Survey Corps’ Commander was already difficult enough as it was, and that he didn’t need any of his subordinates to make things more uncomfortable for him, whether that was with their irrational requests or the unsolicited confessions that left their mouth when they were in bed together. And, all things considered, you figured he could go back to sleeping alone. Not to mention he must be craving some personal space as well. After all, you had practically glued yourself to his side for a month.

As you let your mind travel to warmer moments lived during that month, you realized the silence was making you a little bit too nostalgic, so you welcomed the sound the leaves made as they drifted wherever the wind blew. As well as the distant clatter of hooves.

“They’re here.” He said, and you looked up to find the convoy in the distance. Within a few moments, the shapes grew in size, until they reached the entrance of the castle.

The enclosed carriage that was leading the caravan waited in front as two soldiers opened the gates. It was big and rather opulent, and the glossy finish on the wood told you that it had been polished very recently, and with such dedication that now it resembled a mirror. A mirror that, with its gilded features and painted panels, successfully reflected the personal taste of the owner, whose face remained anonymous thanks to the satin curtains covering the windows.

But the carriage wasn’t the only notable thing in the caravan. The four horses pulling it, as well as the two dozens waiting behind, were splendid enough to overshadow the sumptuous vehicle.

The commander walked to the entrance of the stables, and you followed behind, your eyes still captured by the mesmerizing creatures. When the carriage parked nearby and its doors opened, the identity of the owner was finally revealed: a middle-aged man of imposing height and cinnamon hair who looked surprisingly familiar, and that, judging by his elegant demeanor and conspicuous wardrobe choices, could be nothing other than the lord of some faraway estate.

He hugged the Commander as if they were the oldest of friends, and, as they laughed about some inside joke you were certain you wouldn’t get, you found yourself wishing things were as merry and jolly between you and him as it was between the two of them. But then again, you were pretty sure this old man had never said he was in love with him.

Although, to be fair, it was not like he was avoiding you. In fact, to an outsider it may even look like you were the one doing it. After all, you were the one who decided to move back to your room, and you were the one who was actively trying to keep your eyes glued to your desk instead of looking his way. You were also the one who decided to start leaving immediately after your shift ended.

A stranger reading your latest journal entries would be forgiven for thinking you were the one putting distance between you two, but you were convinced that anyone in your position would understand that it was not something you had chosen deliberately. You were merely reacting.

Reacting to what you felt and perceived: a switch in the atmosphere, a change in his eyes, the feeling of not being welcome anymore. You could see it there, in the icy blue of his irises, and that’s why you tried not to look at them. It made your throat tight and your vision blurry. So you decided it was best to look at the horses instead.

They were truly some of the most magnificent stallions you had ever seen. So bright and alert. The glow in their coat told you that all their nutritional requirements were met, and the bounce of their mane, that they were frequently groomed. You had once heard that even just one of these horses was worth an average person’s lifetime income. And you could see why.

But after some minutes of contemplation, wonder turned into gloom, as you found yourself feeling sorry for them. There was no way these innocent creatures knew about the dangers that awaited them. It was truly such a shame that such gorgeous animals had been born in a world like yours. They deserved to enjoy their days eating fresh grass and running up and down a green hill, somewhere in the middle of a picturesque countryside, and not to spend their lives outrunning titans.

But you tried to cheer yourself up by thinking that they would get to live good lives for as long as they could cling to them. After all, the scouts treated their animals with the utmost care and respect, almost as if they considered their horses to be comrades too.

To your right, you heard the Commander animatedly talking with the wealthy stranger. But your eyes were still lost among the horses, absentmindedly watching their mane dance in the wind. The sound it made when blowing through the trees, delicately rustling their leaves as if telling them it was time to wake up, was something you had always found relaxing. And you realized that, despite the uncomfortable cold, it was such a beautiful day in the forest. If only you could enjoy it.

You wished you owned the carefree disposition of that tall man who had just dismounted his horse and now seemed to be thanking it for the ride. He looked so content and joyful, utterly delighted with the simple act of ruffling its mane, and so did the animal. It looked as if the man was fluent in whatever language it is that horses speak. He looked a lot like a horse whisperer. He looked a lot like-

“Leon?” You heard your own voice calling seconds before the man turned around and smiled, confirming that was indeed his name.

“My lady.” As he made his way to you, his hazel locks danced to the exact same tune his horse’s mane did behind him. His hair had gotten longer, but his smile was as warm and welcoming as you remembered it.

“How come you’re here?” You asked, surprised to find this was the first time in days your smile felt like it belonged on your face.

“I’m accompanying my lord uncle.” He paused as he kissed the back of your hand. “This gentleman right here.” You looked at the man he was pointing at, the one standing next to him, and also the same tall stranger the Commander had been animatedly conversing with.

So this was Lord Koch. His face did look a little familiar after all.

“Commander Smith.” Leon gently let go of your hand before sending an acknowledging nod to the Commander, and extending his hand.

“Lord Angert.” The Commander shook the hand Leon was offering and smiled politely. “Thank you for traveling so far, my Lord. I hope the winter woods weren’t too rough.”

“As someone who was raised out in the cold, my esteemed Commander, I found the weather rather nostalgic.” As the two men shared a chuckle, you couldn’t help but join in, amused by Leon’s interesting way of speaking.

“We had to make a couple of small detours, as we weren’t sure if it was safe to travel anywhere near Ragako or Dauper.” Lord Koch explained. “That added at least half a day to our schedule. We should have been here by yesterday night, so I apologize, Erwin. I think Leon here was the only one who appreciated the change of plans.” He grinned at his nephew, and you noticed that Lord Koch’s eyes also had the tendency to turn into crescent moons when he smiled. “He really wanted to get a present for the beautiful lady here.” You blinked a few times to shake the confusion away when you suddenly felt all three men’s eyes on you.

Leon slipped a hand inside his jacket before handing you a tin box that was all too familiar to you. It did look like you were starting a collection after all, you had three of these now.

And for the first time in this bitter morning, you felt warm, the pleasant feeling immediately taking over your lips. You could really use the sugar today. The sugar, as well as the comfort only your favorite childhood treat could provide.

“Leon, you didn’t have to.” Your fingers reached for the present, unable to keep your lips from curving when you had the small box in your hands. You expected the metal to be cold, but it was actually comfortable to the touch, and rather warm from the cozy pocket he had kept it in all this time.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I figured since I was coming here anyway, I could at least bring you a piece of home.” He explained, using his hand to brush aside the importance of his kind gesture. “Although, I must admit the idea only found me after we were more than halfway through our journey here. But Luckily they had these in one of the villages we stopped by.”

You stared into the forest he had for eyes and wondered if you could find a friend there. Because you felt like you could really use one right now.

“Erwin, these were selectively bred to be approximately five feet tall and nine hundred pounds give or take.” You turned your attention to Lord Koch, who was pointing at the group of horses that was now being taken into the stables. “They may seem heavy but you don’t need to worry about maintenance out there in the field, they can get by perfectly fine on a simple diet, and travel many hours without complaining.” You eyed the horses, they certainly looked way more muscular than your average horse. “And their weight doesn’t affect their performance either. Their top speed is between forty to fifty miles per hour. Pretty impressive, right? We trained them to maintain a swift twenty two miles gallop, even when pulling a carriage. Like I said, a fine speed all the way through. But I don’t pretend you believe just my words. I actually would like to show you right now if you’re up for it. What do you say?”

The sound of the wind waking the leaves from their slumber was the only thing Lord Koch got for a reply. You turned to look at the Commander at the same time Leon did, and were surprised to find him staring back at you. An unreadable look in his icy blue eyes.

“Erwin?” Lord Koch called again and this time he seemed to have more luck in getting a reply.

“Yes, yes, we should.” The Commander said, eyes still fixed on you.

“I’ll get them ready, Uncle.”

“No, son, you can stay. Erwin and I are only going for a quick ride.” Lord Koch smiled to his nephew before turning to the Commander. “Let’s go, Erwin. Let’s leave these two to each other. I bet they have a lot to talk about.”

The Commander threw one last glance your way, a closed-mouth smile on his face, before turning around and following Lord Koch.

next chapter

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arteastica · 8 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (10)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 2.3k

The holidays had always been your favorite time of the year. You never waited for the first snowfall in order to start daydreaming about generously spiced cookies and thick, melted chocolate. When it came to fantasizing about buttery batters rich in raisins, and biscuits dusted with brown sugar and cinnamon, you were always months ahead everyone you knew.

But the holidays weren’t just about desserts. You also craved the savory dishes your mother laid out on the dinner table, and the equally warm conversations that always came along with them. You craved the familiar sight of your parents sitting by the fire, your father, indulging in his favorite book, and your mother, in a steaming cup of chocolate. You always kept them company, from your favorite spot by the window, where the sight was just as comforting and homey. You enjoyed looking at the white, thick blanket that covered the narrow streets, and the yellow lights that glowed through the neighboring windows. You liked to think that inside those houses people were also enjoying good food and a good laugh in good company.

Everything about the winter holidays was warm and homemade, and that’s exactly why you had never spent a single one away from home. Even during the three years you lived at the training camp, you always made sure to be back home with your family by the time the holidays rolled around. And this year would be no different.

And so, for weeks now, you had been counting the days, as it was tradition. Only that this year, it had felt more like a back-to-school countdown than anything else. ‘Anxiety’ and ‘reluctance’ had replaced ‘anticipation’, in both the sentences you wrote in your journal every night, as well as in your mind. However, you weren’t surprised. Not when the obvious reason was on the other side of the door you were about to knock on.

You lifted a hand and gave the hardwood a couple of tentative taps. He told you there was no need to announce yourself before coming in, but it was already way past working hours, and you weren’t sure he would still be awake.

When you heard his familiar voice, your heart lightened a little. Leaving without seeing him, at least one more time, would be as ridiculous as going to the doctor and leaving before receiving treatment.

You pushed the door open and, as soon as he saw you, he rose from the couch he had been lounging on. If the swiftness of his movement and the tentative smile now present on his lips were anything to go by, he was just as surprised to see you as you were to find him wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a white shirt, partially unbuttoned.

Your nails dug deep into your own skin, all while wishing it was his instead. His bolo tie was discarded on a nearby table, and so were the straps of his gear. The flames dancing in the fireplace behind him, and the steam coming from the mug placed beside the chess board, made it feel as if you were stepping into something intimate and personal. What you had before you, was a sight deserving of a dozen diary entries, and you knew you would write them once you were back home. For now, and for the sake of your own sanity you decided to focus your attention strictly on his eyes instead.

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt you, commander, but I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning and…” Your nails buried deeper into your flesh, as if testing to see if you had the courage to say it. “I wanted to see you before that.”

You stared directly into his eyes. There was a certain boldness that only became available to you once darkness descended, a certain notion that whatever impulsive actions were committed under the moon didn’t really matter, because their consequences would reset come morning anyway. That’s why ghosts waited for the sun to leave in order to haunt forests, and so did the howling of wolves. And maybe that was also the reason why your honesty didn’t exactly bother you. Your feet had brought you there to see him. There were no papers he needed to sign, no questions you needed to ask, no tea or cookies you wanted to bring him. No tricks or excuses up your sleeve. He was the only purpose of your visit.

“I’ll confess your absence has me worried already.” He started making his way to you as a playful smile graced his lips. “I don’t know what I’ll do without those butter biscuits and hot tea in the afternoon, but,” you couldn’t help but notice that the innocent crinkle in his eyes didn’t match the picture his exposed collarbones and prominent Adam’s apple were painting, “I’ll try to survive without you.”

Me too. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be just fine without me, commander.” Now that he was close enough, you noticed he smelled like all your favorite spices, and the tinge of cherry on his lips told you it was probably mulled wine in his mug.

“That’s debatable.” His voice sounded several octaves lower than usual, and you didn’t need to time travel to know that you would be missing it for the upcoming weeks. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Go ahead.” You replied, happy to cling on to anything that would help you put off your departure.

“That night, at your doorstep. What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

His eyes were so different in moments like these, when it was just the two of you. It was as if the 13th commander of the Survey Corps was gone, and the only one left in his place was Erwin Smith, the blond man who loved chess, boring history books, and sweet afternoon treats. The owner of those distinctive eyebrows and those sapphire eyes that, right now, were drilling into you, all your emotional walls and reservations, with such piercing vulnerability. If it were anyone else you would drop your gaze, but with him, you were drawn closer instead.

“So much.” You took a deep breath, the type that usually precedes a long speech or a lengthy confession. “For one, I don’t understand why everyone here likes ale so much, and I have no idea how ODM gear works either.” As the words left your mouth, your feet diligently worked on closing the distance between your bodies. “I think I cheated on a test once, and performed so poorly on my physical examinations I almost failed all of them.” His lips twitched slightly, as if wanting to form a smile but stopping halfway in fear of interrupting the flow of your ideas. “I cry at least once a month, especially when I’m bored.” And in that moment, boredom seemed such a foreign and absurd concept, because how was it possible for anyone to be bored when the world had such wonderful views to offer, like his shirt and the way it clung to his body, for example. The fabric was close enough to show the shape of his chest, and unbuttoned enough to unveil skin generously sprinkled with light brown hair. “I’m completely clueless when it comes to chess and I hate to think that I will never be able to impress you in a game.” In such intimate space, the air was even more infused with his cologne, making it all the more difficult to breathe. “I spend too much time in my head, overthinking everything. But oddly enough, the only thing I can never think too much about is you. It is never enough.” Your fingers found his hand at the same moment his eyes found your lips. “Commander, nobody thinks about you as much as I do.” You interlaced your fingers with his. “Not while doing the things I do.”

For a while, the snapping of firewood was the only thing breaking the silence of the night, as he stared into your eyes, and his hand held yours firmly. But then his lips parted slightly.

“Well, for one, you don’t need chess to impress me.” With his other hand, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek. “I can’t guarantee I can make boredom disappear, but I’d be delighted to give it a try whenever you need me to.” His thumb stroked your skin lovingly, and his gaze, his touch, as well as his words, all felt like the warmest of cardigans. “There are many young men here thinking about my assistant the way I do. I’ve seen how their eyes follow her, how they linger on her. And I know that look all too well myself.” You could almost feel the rising and falling of his chest against you, and you wondered where had all the oxygen in the room gone. “But I must admit it satisfies me to know they don’t get to have her as close as I do everyday, and especially not as close as I do right now.” His thumb caressed your bottom lip softly, the same kind of gentle squeeze farmers give peaches when trying to tell if they are ripe enough. “Sweet, we like ale because it’s sweet, and also quite nutritious. And on that note, I would explain more about that, as well as how the ODM gear works, but that would take too long, and I really want to kiss you right now.”

You knew that sensation. You had felt it before. It used to happen quite often when you were a child, around this same time of the year. When you woke up, and ran downstairs to find all the presents you had been waiting a whole year for, all of them beautifully wrapped. Excitement filling you up completely and seeping through your lips as you smiled. As you smiled in anticipation of the wonderful time you had ahead.

“But, commander, I thought chess helped you stay away from impulsive decisions.” You used a playful tone to match the beaming grin you were now wearing, as you signaled to the chess board he had been giving all his attention to before you stepped into the room.

“This is anything but impulsive.” He assured you before finally closing the distance between your lips. And you were glad his arms were around you, holding you tightly, because there was no way your legs could, not anymore. Not when his lips were finally moving against yours.

It was mulled wine in his mug, for sure. He tasted like cinnamon and anise, like oranges and honey, spiced with a little bit of brandy. It felt like a summer, a wonderful one, spent under lemon trees; like a rogue spring night in late July. His kiss was smoky, mixing in with the smell of burnt wood and the sweetness of his cologne. His lips were soft, and so was his bristly chin, rubbing against your skin. And you decided this was your new favorite sensation.

His lips moved slowly and gently against yours. He kissed you like this was the only chance he had, like he would never get to do it again, almost as if you were a character in some dream he would soon wake up from. His lips and his hands confirmed in their soft, silent way that this hadn’t been impulsive at all.

His tongue, or rather the sudden appearance of it, elicited a moan, that made you feel as if you were whispering in a library. There were rooms nearby, and in the quiet of the night you knew any sound you made would be magnified, but you couldn’t help yourself, not when his tongue was drawing such delicious patterns inside your mouth. Oh his tongue, turns out it was just as skilled at kissing as it was at forming words.

You didn’t know how long you had been kissing him. It could be a minute or ten or even a century. You didn’t really care. And even though your lips were starting to feel sore, you had no intentions of stopping. Your palms were resting on the toned muscles of his chest, as the slow movements of his tongue patiently unraveled what little remained of your self-control. And whatever little remained was finally lost when his big, curious hands ventured a little beyond the small of your back, making you moan again. Loudly, this time. The same kind of sound you would make when biting into a juicy peach on a scorching summer day. And it all made you aware of the painful discomfort present between your legs. It was hurting like never before. It hurt from thinking about him, naked, hovering over you, strands of gold sticking to his forehead. And most importantly, it hurt from craving to be filled up by him.

And so, despite feeling like you could kiss him forever, you pulled away slowly. He was looking at you through heavy eyelids, his lips were red, a little swollen, and glistening with your saliva. You smiled at your work, the same type of smile artists give their sculptures once they’re finished. And you couldn’t help but think about how wrong you had been on that day in the forest: you didn’t want to fuck him, you wanted to make love with him.

“Commander, touch me.” Your words didn’t seem to register with him, because all he did was staring at your eyes. So you decided to guide his hand under your skirt, and between your legs, where you needed him the most. “I want you to touch me right here.”

“I’m not sure I should.” He said before pulling his hand away.

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis

134 notes · View notes

arteastica · 7 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (12)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 3.4k

When it happened, your head went blank, completely devoid of any thought. You were so used to your loud, busy thoughts taking up all the space, but now it was all so empty, filled with a stillness that you had never experienced before. And such silence was as foreign and welcome as he was between your legs.

As he stretched you gently, his mouth hung slightly open, letting out low grunts, clearly satisfied with the way you were squeezing him. It looked as if he was fighting through the pleasure, through the overwhelming sensations in order to keep his eyes open. And you knew why: he seemed to be studying your face as he pushed further inside.

“You okay?” He asked between heavy breaths and you nodded reassuringly. It hurt and throbbed inside, but, despite all discomfort, you were taking him like a compliment. As he looked deep into your eyes, you realized you would endure anything for him. Anything if it meant his brow would furrow in pleasure like that, and his mouth would open in delight like it was right now. Plus, you were sure that’s how it was supposed to feel, when the thing you were trying to fit in was significantly bigger than the space available.

“Good girl.” He ran his fingers through your hair. “You’re lovely. The loveliest.” He leaned down and kissed you slowly at the same time you forced your legs to open wider in appreciation of his compliment.

The moment he slid inside you, time and thinking alike had stopped completely. And it was right there and then, in his room, in his bed, in his arms, with him buried almost all the way inside you, when his naked, sweaty form was on top of you, and his lips were on yours, that you realized the reason you had been born into this world.

That night, you became convinced that been born in a world full of man-eating creatures was a small price to pay if it meant you would get to experience being fucked by Erwin Smith. Because, as soon as you welcomed him inside you, you realized life had never felt so meaningful. Because, there in his arms, you became someone else. Someone more like yourself.

There in his arms, it was hard to believe there was ever a time in your life when you felt inadequate and scant. It seemed so foreign and ridiculous. This is exactly where you belonged, not in the Survey Corps, but in his bed.

And it was also there in his arms, where you realized that, in the event you happened to die there and then, you wouldn’t really mind. It would be like ending it all in the highest of notes. Because you were sure life had no bigger fulfillment to offer than this. Nothing bigger than being completely filled up by him, completely stuffed with him. Completed by him.

And now that he was fully settled inside, you realized he was actually the right fit for you. He fit perfectly between your legs, the same way custom rings do on brides’ fingers, and the same way keys do on treasure chests. It was almost as if you had been designed so he could fit one day.

For a while, his lips against yours were the only muscles of his body moving. Maybe he was giving you time to adjust to him, to his sensation. Or maybe he was just comfortable there. Because something about the short, loving pecks he was now planting on your lips and the way he stopped to look into your eyes before kissing you again and again, told you that maybe he found the same kind of fulfillment you did.

He shifted a little and the sensation of perfect fullness, of quintessential satisfaction made you whimper.

“Does it hurt? Just tell me if it does, okay?”

“It does, but you feel so good, commander. So good inside me. Filling me up like that.” You whispered against his lips before rolling your hips tentatively. “I have never been with someone like you. I want to feel you completely. Every inch of you. Please, commander.”

He obeyed and started moving slowly, at a pace that reminded you of decadent chocolate. His eyes were fixed on yours and his usually obedient hair was now falling in front of his eyes. It was longer than you imagined, and as his pace quickened, it started to stick to his forehead.

His hips started to fall into a deliciously addictive rhythm and you weren’t sure what the tip of his cock was doing inside you, but it could only be described as magic. The more he moved, the more your vision got blurry and the more you felt like you were going to pass out. You knew it wouldn’t take long before you started spitting out nonsense. Because it felt like he was pushing the absolute sanity out of you with each thrust of his hips.

At some point, a sinking sensation started to take over your stomach, you felt like you were free-falling into an abyss, descending into something, probably madness. So you held on to him tightly, nails buried into his back.

“You’re trembling.” He noted between heavy breaths, hand on the back of your thigh, burying himself deeper into you.

You opened your mouth wide and heard yourself saying something, but you didn’t know what it was, or what language it was. Then, your head fell to the side, and all you could see was the window and the dark winter sky before it all went completely black. Shortly after, you saw something that looked a lot like the starry night sky, but your tightly closed eyelids told you that it wasn’t.

As he pounded into you, you fisted the bedsheets with one of your hands, while the other was interlaced with his, at the other side of your head. His bedsheets were infused with his perfume, and you, intoxicated with his scent. Unlike your mind, which had gone completely empty, your body had become saturated with all the sensations. It was almost as if all your thoughts had become sensations. As if your brain had chosen feeling over thinking, because it was too overwhelmed to do both.

“Commander, I- I” Your voice quavered, almost as if you were going to cry, and it was so feeble you weren’t sure he could hear you over your own moans, his deep grunts and the wet sounds filling the room. “I think I’m almost there.”

“I know. I can feel you.” You heard him say, in arguably the sexiest of whispers, right before a warm, overwhelming throbbing started spreading from your core all throughout the rest of your body. Every single muscle tensed up before fireworks started exploding all over, especially where your bodies were connected. And then, just as sudden as it had come, your whole body loosened, his frame and the room around you slowly coming into view, accompanied by a feeling that reminded you of the sky after the rain, when the sun stops hiding behind the clouds.

You smiled through heavy eyelids and he answered by giving you a single-lip kiss, and you thought you had never tasted something as sweet. He was still inside you, however, so your hands slid down his back to grab his ass, your way of letting him know that he could keep going as hard and unforgiving as he needed in order to find his own release. As he thrusted into you, you squeezed the plump flesh tighter, pushing him in even deeper. His perfectly round ass, thick with muscle, felt so perfect in your hands, and so did his lips on your neck, and the tip of his cock in your magic spot.

And then you saw his brow furrow and his mouth release a loud grunt before his thrusting grew unsteady and erratic. You knew he was close too. And your heart was threatening to break your rib cage, excitedly jumping at the thought of warm, sweet cream filling you up to the brim. Just at the last minute, however, he pulled out, leaving you empty, his creamy load spilling all over the white sheets and your inner thighs. Of course he would pull out. You snorted at your own foolishness. It was the rational, best thing to do. You had been too fucked out to think logically.

He then collapsed on top of you, head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him, running trembling fingers through his golden hair, which was now wet with sweat. Thank you for fucking me so well, commander. “You were so good to me, commander.” That was fucking delicious “That was so good.” You managed to say, completely exhausted. And, for a while, the knocking of violent flurries of snow desperately trying to get in through the window glass was the only thing breaking the silence of the night.

“Do they really look at me that way?”

“Who? The soldiers? They do. I rather they didn’t, but they do.” He said while his fingertips drew circles on your back. “Of course I can’t be too hard on my men, when I myself seem to be completely unable to stop doing the exact same.”

You had been lying there for a while, catching your breath, head resting on his chest, body nestled against him, one leg thrown over his, your hands drawing random patterns on his chest, soft wood hissing in the fireplace, and the snow falling heavily outside making you remember the conversation you had that day in the forest. You smiled to yourself, not only because nature had proven you right, but also because, if you focused enough, you could still feel him stretching you out.

You were loving the intimacy, your pussy shamelessly resting against his thigh, without a care in the world. You could get used to it, lying together in bed, completely naked, not even bothering to pull up the covers. You definitely could, because it was the textbook definition of perfect.

“Well, just for the record, commander, if I catch anyone looking at you that way, I will let them know in the spot, very politely don’t worry, that they can’t.” He chuckled. But you were serious, you didn’t want any of those ladies, especially not that one who wanted to marry him, looking at him like that.

“Come here.” He grabbed you by the chin and pulled you in for a slow, midnight kiss. Textbook definition of perfect, indeed. For some reason, it all made you think of a perfectly round bubble, prismatic and glistening, and also about how little it takes to pop one of those. You hoped yours would never burst, but in the event that it inevitably and imminently had to, you hoped it would be way later. Way into the future, after you had fucked a couple more times, maybe in some other places, in some other positions, in other seasons. Sadly, it came dangerously close to bursting when he pulled away and you remembered that you would be leaving in a few hours.

“How will you spend the winter holidays?” You asked, half in an attempt to start a conversation about how much you didn’t want to leave, and half to distract yourself from the uncomfortable weight you started to feel in your chest at the thought of spending time away from him. If only he ordered you to stay.

“Working.”

“You don’t get vacations?”

“I don’t. It comes with the job.”

“That’s impossible. Everyone needs a break. At least a short one.” You propped yourself on your elbows, staring back at him with incredulity.

“I’m telling you the truth. It’s literally written in the job description.”

“Well, what happens if, I don’t know, let’s say a lady wants you to take her on a date.”

His lips curved into a knowing smile before saying:

“Well, then you explain your situation to the lady and pray that she doesn’t get too upset.”

You snorted before letting your head fall back against his chest. “Well, it sucks for the lady, but it sucks more for you. Is it like this for everyone? Everyone with a high rank in the military?” You felt him nodding against your head . “How do they, I don’t know, make new friends, explore their interests, find a partner even? Start a family? Rest?”

“Well, that’s why you are expected to do all that before assuming the position. If you don’t, then it becomes more of a challenge.” He explained very matter-of-factly, and you couldn’t help but wonder… how come he hadn’t met someone yet. The commander didn’t look like someone who would struggle to find a partner. “And more so for the Survey Corps. You’ll notice most of us are not married. It kind of comes with the job too.” He interrupted your contemplations before you could come up with a hypothesis. “It’s sort of an unspoken rule.”

“What comes with the job? Mandatory celibacy?”

“Not exactly, but I mean, you wouldn’t want your family to go through all that grief if, let’s say, you never make it back from a mission. The stakes are too high for people in our field. And most of us think it would be unfair to leave someone waiting for us forever.”

You tilted your head back so you could look at him. His fingertips were still absentmindedly drawing patterns on your back, but his eyes seemed to have gotten lost somewhere far away. “Well, you forgot to mention all that at the entrance ceremony.” You said jokingly, trying to stir the conversation into a lighter direction because it was getting too heavy for your liking.

“What? You wanted me to give you more reasons not to join? You had plenty already. And speaking about that, what would compel a princess from Mitras to join the Scouts?” He asked in a playful tone and you chuckled, deciding you wouldn’t actually mind if he called you just that from now on.

“Princess?” You let the word linger on your tongue, it definitely tasted sweeter after he had used it with you. “I don’t really know. I think the princess actually wanted to join the MP. It looked boring. Just the type of boring she was looking for. But boring is good in a world like ours, isn’t it?”

“Boring is good indeed.” He said, his stare threatening to stray somewhere far again. But then he seemed to notice you were looking up at him so he promptly asked you: “Whatever happened to your goal of joining the Military Police?”

“Well, my physical skills got in the way. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I failed almost all my physical examinations. Didn’t make the cut and ended up here.” You scanned his face, still in disbelief of the events that had taken place earlier that night, unable to stop a smile from taking over your features. “But I’m glad I did.”

“So am I.” He looked back at you and interlaced your fingers together over his chest. “I wasn’t lying either when I said I don’t know what I’ll do without those butter biscuits.”

“Just the biscuits?”

“And the tea, of course.”

You propped yourself on your elbows so you could look at him, to which he responded:

“And obviously the sex.”

“Commander?” You quirked an eyebrow and he just laughed before pulling you back to his side.

“But maybe it’s a good thing you’re leaving. I can’t promise I’d be able keep my hands to myself if you stayed.” You failed to understand how was that a problem. “And I can’t promise that would bode well for you or your body either, especially right here.” He cupped your pussy from behind, and the way you didn’t flinch at his touch told you that you were already getting used to it. Good. You liked that. You had no problem with that at all. It made you feel his.

“Well, now I really don’t want to go.” You buried your head in the crook of his neck and hugged him tightly, breathing in his scent as if trying to take some with you for the long journey back home, all while feeling sorry for yourself and all the sex you were going to miss. But he just chuckled.

“It’ll be okay. It’s just a couple of weeks. And, think about your parents. They must be missing you a lot.”

“My parents are just fine without me. They are always in the shop anyways.”

“What do they do?”

“We have a trade shop. My parents started it together not long after they got married, moved to the capital, started selling fresh produce to the wealthy folks in Mitras, it went better than expected, and now Father thinks he’s one of them.”

“Isn’t he? That is one really nice house you have.”

“Thank you. I like it too. But Father says it feels like an apartment instead of a house. He doesn’t appreciate having to share a wall with the neighbors.” You cleared your throat before proceeding in a pompous voice. “They are too close and so is the front door to the street, or so he says.” The commander chuckled lightly. “He doesn’t like the idea of stepping into the street as soon as you open the door. Oh, and he is very adamant he needs a garden. And I don’t know why or for what, because I have never seen him watering a plant. Mother says he won’t stop complaining until he moves to one of those houses up the hill. You know, those where the main gate is three towns away from the house.” He let out a hearty laugh whose sound instantly created a warmth in your chest. He was already so beautiful, but when he laughed… Oh when he laughed. It was hard to put into words really. The crinkle in his eyes was reason enough but the sound was what did it for you. You were convinced it was one of the best things the human ear was able to perceive.

As his laughter quieted down and turned into a soft smile, his eyes scanned your face from forehead to chin, like he was reading a page from a book he liked.

“What?” You asked suddenly, wondering if you had a booger or something, judging by how much time his eyes spent in your nose.

“Nothing.” He replied, still a little too interested in your features. “I was just thinking about the day we met. And how quiet you were all the time. Almost as if you were counting the words you said to me. And now-”

“Now I won’t shut up?”

“Well, I always had the feeling you were quite fond of talking.”

“You were right, and I’m not done narrating my backstory yet.”

“Please don’t let me stop you.” He said with the expression of someone pretending to feel sorry.

“I didn’t always live in the capital. We moved there when I turned ten.”

“Where did you live before?”

“In the suburbs. Back then, the shop was so small it fit inside the house, so I helped my parents run it. It was a lot of fun, and I got to travel around with Father a lot. I remember we even went to wall Maria a few times before it fell. The vegetable patches were massive there. The onions they grew were always so flavorful, I don’t know what they put in their soil. Oh and the juiciest oranges, you could only find them there. Plus the farmers were always so kind. Wherever we went, we learned a lot of interesting stuff from them.”

“Oh, so that’s when strawberries started talking to you, and telling you when it would snow, and how heavy it would.”

“I told you I didn’t make it all up. My father did.” There it was again. Your favorite sound in the whole world. You looked up at him until his features softened. Yes, you loved seeing him laugh. Actually, just seeing him in general, no matter what he was doing, was enough for you. “The farmers in Shiganshina, most of the stuff he knows, he learned from them.”

“He sounds like an interesting man. Your father.”

“You think? Tell me about yours.” You asked, immediately wishing you hadn’t, because as soon as the words left your mouth, his smile vanished, his eyes hardened, and his demeanor changed completely.

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean

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arteastica · 1 month

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (26)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 3k

Perfumed breeze tickled your bare shoulders and sweet wine swayed inside clinking glasses, soft music lured twosomes to the dance floor, and the golden midday sun shone brighter than ever, as if making some sort of grand entrance, stepping into the courtyard like a guest of honor, blinding your eyes until they could no longer see anything around. Only the shadows and the shapes, and the bluest sky painted behind him.

And speaking about the sky, it had evidently dressed to match him that morning, from the cobalt pocket square peeking out of his morning coat to the corresponding silk tie obediently waiting on his chest; without forgetting, of course, about the crystalline sapphires embedded in his face, because in all honesty, who could forget? How could anyone overlook that heavenly blue of his eyes, iridescent at times, dreamily reflecting back all your favorite colors whenever they stared into yours. Just like they were right now, opportunely reminding you of secret moments spent inside some mountain castle down south; and the pleasant warmth that radiated from your chest at the thought made your lips curve into the same kind of smile his were wearing: knowing and conspiratorial. And you wondered if he found it overpowering too, the need to melt into each other’s arms.

His fleshy lips, appetizing as ever, parted slightly at the sight before him, his eyes methodically exploring first your features and then the colorful flowers on your dress, as if counting them, as if you were a coveted treasure seized from an enemy beyond the walls; his chest expanding as he took the type of deep, steadying breath that usually precedes life-altering statements. And then, when a labored ‘wow’ was all that left his lips, an amused chuckle escaped yours. You found it funny, to think those were the same lips that always knew what to say, the authors of the compelling speeches he used to motivate his men out there on the field or secure funds from closefisted aristocrats. And now, those same lips that not too many seasons back, had convinced a bunch of frightened kids to dedicate their hearts to a suicidal cause, had stopped working with nothing but a smile frozen on them. But that wasn’t a problem, given how eloquently his eyes were, instead, delivering the biggest compliments a lady could ever receive.

“Commander Smith.” You smiled teasingly, sending a courteous nod his way as you extended a hand for him to take.

“My lady.” He greeted back, his unusual wording eliciting another chuckle from you, because suddenly, it felt as if you were meeting for the first time again, as if you were the center characters in one of those romance novels your mother kept hidden under her mattress, as if some sort of magical encounter was taking place in the middle of Lord Koch’s garden.

He took the hand you were offering and brought it to his lips, where it remained for what, some would say, way longer than tradition stipulated. And all the while, you could feel him smiling against your fingers, his soothing breath keeping them warm, and the gentle stroke of his thumb against your skin sending a playful shiver straight to your core.

Some would say, probably the same people whose eyes were currently glued to the two of you, that ten thirty in the morning was too early for one’s mind to drift to the kind of inappropriate places yours was; but the thing is, they didn’t know about the wonderful things those lips could do nor the incredible delight those thighs could provide: muscular, well-developed, gift-wrapped in grey silk…or was it wool? If you could touch them, you’d be able to tell. But then again, that would be highly inappropriate for a garden party, wouldn’t it?

When his lips reluctantly let go of your hand, his fingers decided not to, choosing to stay wrapped around yours instead, gentlemanly accompanying them as if to see their safe arrival to your lap.

“Forgive my lips.” He smiled dazedly, eyes still lost in yours. “But it’s in familiar tastes where they find the greatest pleasure.”

That kind of apology suggested that he’d also noticed the inquisitive stares emerging all around you, stares that, at the moment, you didn’t have the mental disposition to concern yourself with, not when his words, as well as the evocative tone used to deliver them, were making your insides bubble in a dangerous cocktail of excitement and pleasure; a pleasure that quickly began to drip from deep within, like champagne spilling from the glass, drowning any other thought until all you could think about was how bad you wanted to pull him to a secret corner, sit on his lap and glide your fingers through that perfectly smooth hair of his, slicked back and neatly combed, desperately asking to be messed up.

“My lady?” He smirked playfully, a gesture that suggested he was probably very aware of the mess he was causing between your legs, a mess you hoped he would be so kind as to take care of later.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Commander Smith.” You replied calmly, your lips curving up in mischief. “At the moment, I feel like overindulging in familiar tastes myself.” You held his gaze boldly, unashamed to acknowledge all the things he could do to your body with his words only.

“Is that so?” He asked enticingly, taking a step closer and then another, his eyes locked so intently on their target as his face came just mere inches away from yours. “My princess shall never have to wait.” His lips whispered softly, only for the two of you to hear. “To indulge in whatever pleasure she craves.” He concluded, his husky voice more animalistic than human, the tantalizing woods and musks of his cologne intoxicating your senses, numbing them, clouding your mind until you could no longer think about anything, at least not anything that wasn’t his lips or the forbidden nights you spent together with them in his office, under the covers of secrecy. Was he about to pull those covers down with a kiss?

The logical part of you was certain he wouldn’t, but logic and rationality were not enough to stop the rest of your body from wishing he would. Especially your lips, they didn’t care that your parents were around somewhere, they didn’t care if they fainted the moment they saw their darling daughter kissing a man she had not been promised to; they didn’t care if, for the following weeks, you became the topic of the conversations all those fine ladies, who were now attentively staring at the two of you, would be enjoying with their afternoon tea. You and your lips cared about none of that.

But you knew he did.

And you knew him too well.

That’s why you weren’t really surprised when his fingers ignored the blushing cheeks he liked to hold when he kissed you, and reached for the back of your head instead, gently hooking the butterfly pin like a crown on a princess’ head. What surprised you, however, was that he knew the exact same spot where your mother had placed it that morning. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you today. And you wondered if that could be the case.

But before your mind could start speculating, he took a step back, a disarming smile painted on his handsome features as he offered you his arm to hold.

“May I?”

You smiled with delight, not hesitating a second to wrap both hands around the hard, unyielding muscles of his arm, letting them guide you to the other end of the courtyard. As you made it past grey-haired gentlemen who nodded back at him and blue-blooded ladies who were trying to exchange discreet glances with each other, you stroked his biceps subtly, eager for everyone to know that you were with him today, and that no, he wasn’t available for discussing work-related matters at the moment, much less dancing with anybody else. The gentlemen would have to wait until he was back at the office on Monday; and the ladies, well…their business would have to wait even longer. Because today, you looked up and smiled back at the man beside you, today he was with you.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite contrarian!” Lord Koch’s exclaimed overjoyed once you reached the north pavilion, his tall frame approaching his friend with open arms. “Erwin! Glad you could make it.”

“Hansel.” The Commander patted his back congratulatory. “Wouldn’t miss an opportunity to celebrate a good friend.”

“My lady.” Lord Koch nodded politely at you once he was done greeting his friend.

“I came to greet you earlier, but Lord Angert told me that you and Madam Augusta were yet to arrive.” The Commander turned to the plush, jovial-looking lady beside his friend, who you assumed to be Mrs. Koch. “Madam Augusta.”

“Erwin! I’m so glad you could join us!” She exclaimed, also overjoyed and using the exact same tone Lord Koch had, albeit a few scales higher. According to your mother, the Kochs had been married since their academy days, and engaged since even before that. No wonder they sounded exactly like each other. “I asked Hansel if you’d be joining us this morning.” She smiled beamingly, taking the Commander’s hand in hers. “I warned him that if he didn’t go deliver the invitation in person, you wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to go at first, but I ma-”

“Augusta.” Lord Koch cleared his throat, flashing an uncomfortable smile at the Commander, who looked at you amusedly, gifting you with one of those light-hearted chuckles that always sounded like honey in your ears, and you giggled back.

“You’re never too busy to visit a friend.” Mrs. Koch said, smiling beamingly and naively, her expressive eyes making you realize she looked exactly like the fairy godmothers they drew on picture books. “Your father knows that very well, dear.” You blinked in confusion, thinking about the Commander’s late father before noticing she was looking at you instead. “He never misses a Wednesday, that conspiracy theory club is going to cause the demise of so many I know.” She squinted her eyes at her husband.

“Augusta.” Lord Koch cleared his throat again.

So the club was still a thing, only they moved it to Wednesdays instead.

“Oh Hansel, please. You don’t believe there is someone, even a single soul, at this party who doesn’t know about that little society of yours. Do you?” She chortled giddily when she saw you nodding in agreement. “Anyhow, it both pleases me and surprises me that someone has at long last managed to conquer this man’s heroically large yet forebodingly rebellious heart.” She said contentedly, smiling at the Commander and then at you.

“Augusta, the lady is his assistant.”

“Oh, my bad!” She feigned embarrassment, her eyes darting from the Commander to you, and then back to him, a knowing smile blossoming on her lips as soon as she caught glance of the comfortable way in which your hands were wrapped around his arm, almost as if they were more than fairly acquainted with his body. “What a shame, her angelic smile and Erwin’s dreamy blues would make for beautiful offspring.” She said with mirth, giggling enthusiastically as her expressive eyes awaited a reaction from you.

But you had nothing for her, at least not anything you could show her without incriminating yourself, so you just lowered your head, looking down at the glossy marble tiles in an attempt to hide both your burning cheeks as well as the little smile that started to take over your lips at the thought of their chubby fingers tugging at your skirt; their angelic blue eyes gleaming with happiness whenever their cute button noses caught a whiff of the little somethings you loved baking for them; their excited little feet making the cabin’s floorboards creak on their way to the front door, your way of knowing that he was back.

No, Mrs. Koch wasn’t the only one. You had thought about it too. Goodness, your pen knew just how much; she remembered about every single time you had forced her to stop right before she could tell your journal about it, because your mother always said that telling your dreams to someone else was the most effective way to curse them into never happening.

“The infamous Nile Dok in the flesh!” Lord Koch’s jovial greeting startled you out of your thoughts, making you raise your head just in time to see Hitch’s boss striding towards you. “Today is really one for the books, isn’t it? It’s not every day you get to see both your favorite commanders together in one place.” He said delightedly, giving the lean, black-whiskered man a welcoming hug, a gesture that showed you just how close they were.

“I just hope Commander Pixis doesn’t find this statement too aggravating.” The Military Police commander said in a monotone voice before turning to Mrs. Koch. “Madam Augusta.”

The feeble smile he had managed to put on for her quickly expired on his lips as soon as he was done shaking her hand, and you couldn’t help but smile when you remembered Hitch’s words: ‘he permanently has the face of someone who hasn’t been able to poop in years.’

“Good to see you, Nile.” Mrs. Koch smiled heartily, her eyes turning into the same crescent moons Leon’s did whenever he smiled, confirming your suspicions that it was indeed a family thing. “Hansel still resents Dot for outsmarting him at the regionals last summer.” She explained amusedly. “A sore ego and a thin skin make it difficult for anyone to forget, never mind forgive.”

“Oh I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Saw him near the brandy earlier.” Lord Koch motioned with a lazy flick of his hand, the indifference in his otherwise enthused demeanor proving that the hurt ego his wife had mentioned was pretty much there. “Dot did win but I wouldn’t say I was outsmarted. Calling his performance ‘brilliant’, like the press did, would be a stretch.”

“Oh I’m sure this year’s regionals will grant you the rematch that you and your ego so desperately crave. I believe in you, darling.” Madam Augusta rolled her eyes, silently contradicting her words. “Hansel will only accept defeat to this man right here.” She explained, pointing at the Commander, who was now shaking Commander Nile’s hand. “Erwin is truly in a league of his own. Hansel is lucky he doesn’t have the time to compete at the regionals.”

“It is my desire to keep a solid friendship with Hansel what keeps me from playing at the regionals, and not lack of time, Madam.” The Commander said, eliciting joyous laughter from everyone, including Lord Koch himself. “How are Marie and the kids?”

Marie and the-

‘I don’t understand how someone like her ended up marrying my boss.’

Hitch’s voice started ringing somewhere deep inside your head, reminding you of the one thing you’d hoped you could forget.

‘She could have married anyone she wanted.’

She said, the warm spring breeze turning unpleasantly bitter all of a sudden, bringing back memories of that snowy winter afternoon spent with your best friend, not too long ago.

‘Eyes bluer than the summer sky, porcelain skin. A goddess.’

She continued, as if listing the participation requirements for a very prestigious competition, one you really wanted to win, but felt you’d already lost.

‘Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe her-’

‘…beautiful falls short-’

‘…stunning doesn’t do her justice.”

Her words grew louder the more she spoke, eventually turning into a sharp hissing that threatened to break your skull into a million pieces.

‘Apparently, they used to be close friends back in the day, all three of them…’

No.

‘Both, your boss and mine..’

No. You didn’t want to remember.

‘…were completely smitten with her.’

The last sentence painfully reverberated in your ears, each word feeling like shards piercing through your eardrums, like an unpleasantly loud and very discordant crowd of cicadas making your ears bleed, as they announced the end of the most beautiful sunset you would ever get to see.

‘Did you know…’

No. You were just fine living in ignorance.

‘…she was this close to…’

No. Please don’t say it.

‘…marrying your boss?’

You held his arm tighter, something similar to a heartbeat violently jolting your entire body, the aftershock sending painful shivers throughout your skin, all the way to the deepest, darkest part of you, where your chest stung and ached in a type of pain you were already growing quite familiar with.

And you wondered if Commander Nile was acquainted with it himself because, although his inexpressive eyes were difficult to read, you could have sworn that you saw them narrow, the mild bags beneath them darkening even more at the mention of his wife’s name.

His wife’s name…

You looked to his right abruptly, your heart racing as if to match the crazed speed of your thoughts.

If Commander Nile was here, then probably his wife…

You looked to his left, and then around; your eyes embarking on a journey of anticipation and uncertainty as they navigated the sea of faces surrounding you, each little glance holding the potential of familiarity for any wistful eyes wishing to spot her, or the dread of recognition, in your very particular case. The dread to discover, among the countless expressions, the telltale features Hitch had so poetically described, the golden hair, the porcelain skin, and the blue eyes that had stolen his heart all those years back.

buy me a ko-fi?☕️ ^^

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arteastica · 6 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (14)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 3.6k

“He absolutely despises me.” Hitch took a sip from the generously sized mug you had brought for her when she had appeared at your front door earlier that afternoon. She then pulled your favorite childhood blanket over her knees before proceeding to wear an amused expression that, much to your confusion, completely contradicted the story she was telling. “I would love to say such hate is unfounded but…”

“What did you do?” You eyed her suspiciously, the corners of your mouth already curving up in preparation for the inevitable burst of laughter that always followed your friend’s stories.

“Well, you need some context first. This man. He is a creep. And by creep, I mean his soldier is always standing. Even when it doesn’t have a reason to.”

“Quite alarming indeed. Especially if he’s your superior.” Your nose crinkled in disgust. You couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it would be to work under someone like that.

“Right? And also for the sake of context, I feel you should know that he has a god complex. He even told some of the girls that he has royal blood and that, get this, was supposed to be a prince! Ha! As if!” She rolled her eyes in disbelief before continuing with her story. “Anyway, he’s always following the girls around like a dog, not me though, because in case I haven’t made it clear by now, he doesn’t like me. Luckily.” She raised a finger to emphasize. “And if you are a boy, or me for that matter, you can be damn sure that he will find the most unpleasant and annoying activity and immediately task you with it.” She smirked and her face reminded you of a high schooler who was about to brag about their grades. “He already disliked me before the night of the ball, but after it, oh I made it to the top of his list!”

You nodded, leaning forward, eager to listen to what was coming next. You knew you were about to get to the part of the story where the Hitch in her name was going to show.

“So, everybody who had been working that night was on the verge of a mental collapse and couldn’t wait to go home and have it in private. We were waiting for the last guests to leave and when they finally did I went to him, my superior, who was talking with a wealthy looking grandpa and, what I hope was his daughter, to inform him that all the guests had left.” Hitch decided to take a sip of her chocolate, and you couldn’t help but feel that it had been solely with the intent of creating anticipation, and not exactly because she was thirsty, but you had to admit it was working. “He saw I was exhausted, so naturally, like any good boss would, he told me I could go home…” She brought the mug to her lips again, but you widened your eyes at her, so she decided to complete her idea instead. “After I made sure the toilets were spotless.” You looked back at her with a pained expression that completely contrasted the proud grin that, for some reason, was crossing your friend’s face. “The stupid smirk he had on his stupid face told me he was expecting me to complain, but let me tell you, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Because instead, I accepted my fate with grace and walked away after leaving some equally graceful words behind: Yes, your hardness.”

You opened your mouth wide, stomach already tensing up in anticipation of the good laugh you were about to get, but before that, you needed to ask one more question. And, as if guessing what it would be, Hitch nodded. “Yes, the shape was clearly visible through his pants. You had to see his face. It was an unforgettable evening, indeed.”

A pleasant warmth filled your chest the same way your laughter filled the room. You looked at Hitch through teary eyes and realized how much you had missed your friend. You couldn’t complain about life back at the base, but you really craved moments like this, with her, moments that had been part of your night routine during the three full years you had spent as roommates.

After the laughter died down and you were able to speak again, you asked: “But like, how come you are still alive after that?”

“Well, as you may imagine, things would most definitely get terrible after such an incident. But I can’t confirm that, because I didn’t stay to find out. The next morning, I went to Commander Nile and begged him to transfer me to another unit.”

“And? Did he?”

“Yes, but I had to write like ten formal requests and practically get down on my knees before he even started to consider it. Because the thing about Commander Nile is that he is also insufferable, only that he does it in a different way.” As you listened to Hitch complain about her superiors, your heart started to take distracting leaps inside your chest, and you did your best to fight back the smile that threatened to spread across your face at the thought of your own boss and how good he was to you. He was good. So good.

“He’s moody and annoying, but at least he’s respectful, professional, and most importantly, isn’t trying to sleep with everyone. Oh my goodness. Not me complimenting Commander Nile.” She crinkled her nose in disgust. “Anyway, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s moody all the time, and permanently has the face of someone who hasn’t been able to poop in years. At first, I thought it was because he wasn’t getting any, but then!” She raised her voice, suddenly and unnecessarily, and in an equally dramatic fashion, raised both index fingers as if asking you to pay close attention. “The other day his wife walked into the headquarters, and imagine the way my jaw dropped to the literal pits of hell when I saw her.” You shuffled in your end of the couch, making yourself more comfortable. Other people’s business was your favorite literary genre. “Not only because Commander Nile pulled a one-eighty, completely transforming himself from insufferable boss to soft-eyed husband in a matter of seconds, but also because his wife is the complete opposite of him.” Her eyes widened, and even though you weren’t too fond of the annoying cliffhangers she deliberately sprinkled here and there in between sentences, you loved how expressive she was. It was all part of her incredible storyteller skills.

“What does she look like?” You sipped from your mug. The chocolate, nice and warm, and just as sweet as you liked it.

“A goddess. Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe her. Beautiful falls short. Stunning doesn’t do her justice.” She explained, very dramatically. “Okay maybe I’m exaggerating but she does look good. Lush strands of gold falling to her hips, swaying synchronously with them as she gracefully makes her way to wherever she has decided to charm with her presence next. It’s important for you to know that she doesn’t just walk, she makes her way gracefully.” You knew what she meant, you had come across that type of people before. The holders of the type of grace that couldn’t be learned, borrowed, or created from experience. And you suddenly remembered the title of a book the commander kept in his office: ‘Walking artwork. Talking poetry.’ The name had stuck with you for some reason, maybe you would borrow it from him one of these days. “Eyes bluer than the summer sky, porcelain skin that reminded me of that expensive doll I spent half my childhood begging my mom to buy for me.”

“Are you sure you aren’t in love with your boss’ wife?” You joked, as a part of you wondered what it would feel like to be so attractive and unforgettable that people would spend so many words attempting to describe your beauty.

“Actually, I’m not sure. Because on top of elegance and good looks, she also has manners and good personality. She smiled and greeted everyone she passed by. And it wasn’t one of those fake smiles you put on just to show your perfect teeth, you know. She’s genuinely charming, and most importantly, smells good.”

“You’re right. Smelling good is what it all comes down to in the end.” You agreed, smiling to yourself at the thought of a very distinctive, musky scent you had grown quite addicted to.

“I don’t understand how someone like her ended up marrying my boss. She could have married anyone she wanted. In fact…” She smirked in a way that successfully reminded you of good old classroom gossip. “Did you know she was this close to marrying your boss?”

You held the mug against your lips, fingers completely freezing around the warm ceramic, unresponsive hands forcing you to taste the liquid that had strangely turned bitter all of a sudden. Sour, even.

“Oh yeah, I heard it from my senior.” Hitch explained, completely misreading your reaction, wearing an amused expression, as she continued to provide gossip that, at any other point in your life, you would have found juicy. She had no way of knowing the silent commotion that piece of information was actually stirring inside you. “Apparently, they used to be close friends back in the day, all three of them. Both, your boss and mine, were completely smitten with her.” You realized your chocolate had gotten unpleasantly tepid as well. “But she ended up choosing mine instead. I wonder if she regrets her decision. Because I would sure as hell do. I mean look at your boss. He’s aging like fine wine, and then look at mine.” She made a face that, under any other circumstances, you would have found funny, maybe next time, when your heart stopped acting like a lemon, a very bitter one, being squeezed for lemonade, and your chocolate, like you hadn’t sweetened it yourself. “But maybe I’m biased, since it’s mandatory for everyone to hate their boss. You know, rule of thumb, law of nature, common sense. Which reminds me, how’s life working under the infamous Erwin Smith? Is he as insufferable as your average boss or worse?” She asked, bringing the mug to her lips.

“We slept together.”

“Sorry?” You didn’t know if she was double-checking because she didn’t believe her ears, or because she didn’t actually hear you, as you had purposely lowered your voice in fear your mother would catch this part of the conversation.

“I slept with the commander.”

“You fucked Erwin Smith?!” She shouted, effectively choking on the sip she had just taken.

“Yes, but please don’t announce it to everyone. I don’t want Mother to think that’s the only thing I’m doing there. Even though I wish it was.” You added, unable to stop your teeth from biting your bottom lip, as the rest of your body reminisced about that night.

“Okay but, I knew it!” She then said, now whispering.

“What do you mean you knew it?”

“I saw the way you look at him. At the ball. I instantly knew those eyes were looking for, you know, a little bedroom activity.” She glanced at the ceiling as if it was a cabinet filled with her memories, and the wood beams, files she was passing a finger over. “And then I saw you guys leaving together, and I thought to myself: there is no way he isn’t going to rip that dress off her later.”

“I really wanted him to. But nothing happened that night.”

“But then when did it happen? And how? And wait, how old is he anyway? Isn’t he like 15 years older than you?”

“Not that much. I mean, I don’t really know, but-”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter. I’m just asking because, you know the difference in experience brings some very interesting topics to the table… like… tell me, was he any good? Goodness, that face says it all.” She leaned in closer, incredulity making her jaw hang slightly open, and curiosity, her eyes squint tightly.

“The commander’s performance was more than satisfying.” You said in a rather pretentious tone that matched the cheeky smile you were now wearing.

“thE cOmmAndEr’s pErFoRmAnCe wAs mOre thAn saTyiSfying.” Hitch threatened to throw your own pillow at you. “What the fuck does that even mean? I’ll need you to elaborate further, miss. I’m not going back home until you answer all my questions, and I have lots.”

“It means it was fucking perfect. He’s- He’s so-”

“Big?”

You nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“It wouldn’t make sense any other way, would it? After all, it takes massive balls to lead a suicide squad. And it takes a rough, unforgiving, sturdy, aggressive, and unbelievably tough man to carry them.” She concluded, lips curving up in a complicit smirk.

“But he’s, you know, so gentle. And warm. And I- I just-” You realized you didn’t know how the sentence was supposed to end. It was all so hazy and misty inside your head, but in a dazzling way. The haze was silky, hypnotizing even, and the mist smelled good. So good. It smelled like-

“Shit…”

“No! Wait, what?” Hitch’s sudden, and rather random, intervention cut through the haze, dissipating it.

“Do you love him?” She asked, now leaning backwards as if trying to gain a new perspective, fingers stroking her chin as if trying to come to a conclusion. She reminded you of a critic trying to decide what to think about a painting.

“What? I-” You realized the dazzling haze was now turning into a confusing fog.

“You love him.” Hitch’s words lacked the intonation of a question and the vacillation of a suggestion. They sounded like a conclusion. A confident one.

“Wait wait wait wait- That’s a big word. Isn’t it… isn’t it a little too early to be throwing it out there?” When the question left your mouth, you realized it had been directed more at you than at Hitch.

“I don’t know, you tell me. I don’t have much to work with, woman. You have barely provided me with any information. I literally have no context at all, other than he has a massive dick, and, apparently, knows how to use it.” You snorted, mostly out of courtesy to your friend. It was the type of laugh brains automatically play for the sake of avoiding awkwardness, when they are busy processing something else. “I can only tell you what I think based on what I see now, in front of me, sparkling in your eyes, seeping through that huge ass smile you’re wearing.” She gestured with her hand and tried to mirror your expression, as if to make you understand what she was seeing. “What I see escaping through the gaps left by the words you are purposely omitting from your sentences. The parts that, for whatever reason, you are not telling me.” You made a pained expression, starting to feel slightly under fire. “And based on all the aforementioned, I think it’s safe to say my friend is deep into her boss’ shit. Just as deep as he has been burying himself into her all these nights.”

You rolled your eyes. “It has only happened once.”

“All the more telling! It means it only took one taste of his dick to fall in love with him.”

“I didn’t even do that. It was not like… that, you know. I told you he was very sweet.” One thing was to think about it, but to reminisce out loud about him and all the things he had made you feel that night, came with a whole different set of sensations. You were sure your stomach would burst anytime now, simultaneously freeing all the butterflies along with all your secrets. The ones you seemed to be keeping, even from yourself.

Hitch sighed and glanced at the ceiling for the hundredth time that afternoon. It looked as if the more you spoke, the more you proved her point. “Sweet, gentle, warm… Woman, in my experience, when you start talking about a man and his dick like that, you’re already far gone.”

“Am I?” You tried to read yourself, but in doing so, discovered that there was a reason our eyes could see virtually anything but our own face. Before this conversation, it was attraction. You had never questioned the label you had attached to the feelings you had for the commander. But now, now the question was poking at you, and there was something that made you feel uncomfortable and uneasy about changing such label. It was the kind of anxiety you imagined would be felt when walking close to the edge of something, so close to falling, not knowing how high the fall would be, or how long it would last.

You heard a sigh coming out of your mouth. “Hitch. I honestly don’t know. What am I even expecting? Doing? What’s going to happen now?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” She lowered her head so she could be eye level with you, because yours was now staring down at your own lap, admitting some sort of defeat. “It’s okay if you don’t know what you’re feeling. Heck, it’s okay if you love him, as well, there’s no fault in that. He’s not married. Loving him is not punishable by law. And it’s not a mistake either.” She placed a reassuring hand on your knee. “You can’t control any of that shit anyway. It all just happens. Inside, you know. And, as for what’s going to happen? You just keep riding him like a stallion, and sucking him like a good old popsicle.”

You snorted, either your friend’s words or her warm, supportive hand lightening some of the tightness trapped inside your chest. “I haven’t done any of that yet.”

“Oh, I bet you must be counting down the days to go back to work then, unlike the rest of us who are not having heated, toe-curling desk sex with our boss.”

That’s what you thought you would spend the winter holidays doing: happily reminiscing about such heated toe-curling sex until you were able to have it again. But you should have known better than expecting that from your busy, overthinking mind. As you lied in your childhood bed that night, hours after Hitch had left, you tried to think about the commander, and whether he had enjoyed the little present you had prepared for him.

“I left something for you downstairs. It’s sweet and tangy. Can you guess what it is? Make sure to eat it while it’s still fresh. Happy holidays, Commander.” You remember smiling as you placed the small piece of paper beside the game of chess that have been left unfinished the previous night. You remember smiling as you tiptoed out of his room, stealing one last glance at his sleeping figure, before picking up your clothes and closing the door behind you.

But those warm memories must have frozen under the snowy winter night you were staring into, because instead, you found yourself reminiscing about the conversation from earlier. Did you love him? You decided you didn’t want to answer that now. You didn’t want to think about that now. Instead, you wanted to think about him. So you tried again.

What was he doing now? Probably sitting at his desk, working under the candle light. Had he eaten dinner? Probably not. It was so in character for him to skip it, to completely forget about it. If it wasn’t for you bringing it to his office, he would starve. Hitch would say you were acting like his wife. And for a moment you smiled at the thought. For a moment, until you felt a sudden sting in your chest.

So the Commander had been in love before. In love with Commander Nile’s wife. Even though it had probably been years since then, and you had no right to feel uncomfortable about his ex-lovers, you couldn’t help whatever emotions were trapped inside you from uncomfortably poking at your chest, demanding to be let out.

You couldn’t help your chest from stinging at the thought of him letting his hand get held by someone else’s, and his mind get filled with someone else’s smile, and his bed infused with someone else’s scent, and his heart cherished by someone else’s… love. You turned to the other side, and buried your face in your pillow, as if the cotton fibers could provide the oxygen your lungs needed. Did he get close to love with her? If so, how close? Did he miss her? How close had they been? How intimate had they gotten? Did he recall moments he spent with her? Did he sometimes write about them in those journals? In the journals, were there entries dedicated to her, to his feelings for her? Did he sometimes wonder what could’ve been? How badly had he hurt when she chose his friend instead? Was he still hurting?

You hated to be this type of person. But you couldn’t help it. It was all you knew. You pulled the covers all the way up to your chin, feeling colder than the back side of the pillow your face was still buried into. You wanted to fall asleep, either that or to go back to a point in time where this information was unknown to you. But there was something in the air. Something bitter and sour. And it was finding its way inside your lungs. Filling every inch of your body.

Why did you feel as if you had lost a race? As if you had come in second in a competition, a very important one. You didn’t want to know about all the women who had passed through his life, you didn’t want to because thinking about them made you ask a certain question you wanted to avoid answering: Were you also just passing through?

next chapter

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arteastica · 6 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (16)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

wc: 3.8k

The sharp hissing threatening to split your skull open was all you could hear at the moment. That, and the violent palpitations of your own heart, accelerating as you rushed up the stairs. You didn’t hear the sound of your footsteps hammering on the wooden floors of the hallway, and neither the loud bang of the office door slamming shut behind you. The only thing you could register was the sight his bedroom door, slightly open, was allowing you to see: Him, sitting on his bed, blankets pulled all the way up to his waist, head turned in your direction, lips putting on a smile the moment your eyes met. But you didn’t return it. Instead, you rushed to his side.

Your hands reached for his face, and when his warm skin met your cold fingertips, that’s when the hissing finally stopped. That’s when all the other sounds started to become audible again, including the words you had been chanting like a mantra since you had arrived at the base just moments ago: I’m sorry.

He remained silent through your apologies, and not a single second did he stop smiling for you. However, his demeanor made you think of a wilted vine, starved of sunlight, clinging to the fence in the same feeble, dejected way that smile was clinging to his lips.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” You repeated, hands still cupping his cheeks, which were bristly from the overgrown stubble that had taken over his face while you were away. But it was your lips that realized, as they covered his face with kisses, that his body wasn’t actually warm: It was burning.

You stared into the dull, lackluster sapphires that were looking back at you, and wished this was just another one of those unpleasant dreams you had been having lately.

“Commander, I would have come sooner.” You really would have. You were doing nothing at home but staring at the ceiling, night after night, wasting your sanity and energy in stupid, useless thoughts. While he… he had been lying here, in agony. Mourning not only the loss of his men, but that of one of his limbs as well.

You glanced at the spot where his right arm should have been, but in its place, there was nothing but layers and layers of bandages, saturated with red, wrapped just below his shoulder.

“I should have believed you when you said it was going to be a harsh winter.” He said, and all you had for a reply was an anguished, sorrowful laughter. The sad smile he was still putting on for you tugged at your heart strings, and tore them one by one, causing a frustrated cry to come out of you, as you leaned forward and planted a soft kiss to his lips.

You let your lips linger against his, eyes squeezed shut, and not a single muscle of your body moved as your hands held his face. You felt like the most selfish of souls, enjoying the good company of your parents, playing draughts with your father after dinner, revisiting your favorite childhood treats with your mother in the kitchen, basking in the sweet nostalgia only her cooking could provide, and even having the mental space and freedom to entertain pointless thoughts like the Commander’s ex-lover and whether he still had feelings for her or not.

“I’m so sorry.” You said again, apologizing for both the disastrous series of events that had ensued while you were away, as well as for your own selfishness.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, where you found the comfort only his perfume could provide.

But you also found guilt and shame there.

Because you realized that, in this moment, when his mind, body, and soul were all weakened and exhausted… you were doing nothing but taking away from him. Draining and demanding, even if it was just his pleasant scent or his reassuring warmth.

But you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help feeling at home every time he held you against his chest, nor the way your body craved, and needed, his soothing, loving touch. That’s why, when his fingers started drawing calming, reassuring patterns on your back, you allowed yourself to melt in his embrace.

“…told you there was something between them.”

“You mean I told you.” For a brief second, you thought the voices you were hearing came from inside your head, as a byproduct of distress. But, when you turned around and locked eyes with the source himself, you realized that wasn’t the case. “I caught Erwin staring at her too much, often at unnecessary times.”

Captain Levi.

“Well, they spend so much time in each other’s company, it would be weird if it didn’t happen.” Your eyes traveled a little to his right where they found Captain Hange, who was giving you a wide, nose-wrinkling, and very contrived smile, convinced that she was speaking low enough you couldn’t hear.

But it didn’t end there, because next to her you discovered the awkward, and very stiff, faces of Armin and Jean. Both trying their best to look anywhere but at you.

You stood up abruptly, immediately assuming a straight posture, as if saluting had the power to erase from their memories the scene they had just witnessed.

“I guess we’re done here.” Captain Levi finally said, his characteristic dead eyes giving him an unfazed demeanor, which completely contrasted the mental state you were currently in. “Erwin, we’ll discuss the remaining details in next week’s meeting. And, if you try to get up again I’ll personally destroy your ankles with my bare hands.”

Not once did his tone of voice changed to match the menacing words that were coming out of his mouth. And without looking back, he proceeded to exit the room.

Captain Hange, on the other hand, stole a couple of glances back as she was leaving. And a part of you wondered if she considered them to be discreet, or if, like Captain Levi, she just didn’t care.

Jean and Armin followed close behind, and you stared at their backs as they disappeared out the door, not knowing where to begin processing everything that was going on at the moment. But, before your brain could start making an attempt, you heard Armin’s timid voice.

“Sh-should I close the door or leave it open?” He was looking at you, asking you, as if this was your room and not the Commander’s.

“Just close it.” Captain Levi’s voice answered from the office.

You stared at the door Armin had just closed, before slowly turning to the Commander, and the moment your eyes met, your vision started to get blurry, tears threatening to spill if you did so much as to blink. You could see the blues in his eyes, as well as all those things you had seen after the 57th expedition last summer, they were all there again. And his eyes started to narrate a story that was too disturbing for the lips to tell.

You woke up after what felt like the worst of naps. Not only because you were arguably more tired than before you had fallen asleep, but also because of the sharp, burning pain now present in your neck. Luckily, however, the fingers now playing with your hair were distracting enough to make you forget about the discomfort.

You rose from the position sleep had found you some hours ago: Sitting on a chair you had placed by his bed, head resting on his lap. By force of habit, your hand automatically went to his forehead.

“You’re having a fever again.” You noted, rising up from your chair. “I’ll go get some water.”

But before you could take a step, he grabbed your hand, and you tried not to think about how weak his grip was.

“Commander, for the last time, I won’t go to my room.” He opened his mouth, but before any words could come out, you answered the question he hadn’t even had the chance to ask. “And no, I don’t need to sleep. You on the other hand…”

His condition was far from optimal, but even so, it wasn’t concerns about his physical health the ones taking up all the space inside your head. The doctor, whose constant visits you found very reassuring, had been very honest: healing would take time. Lots of it. It was meant to be a painfully slow process, and as long as you followed his instructions, which you were doing very strictly, the Commander would heal.

Physically at least.

It was his mental health, however, the one keeping you up and by his side at night. You couldn’t peek into his head and supervise how the healing process was going in there. But, in your experience as a human, you knew that the moments you were alone with your thoughts were the worst. That’s why you didn’t like to leave him to himself for long periods of time, and even if it was a simple trip downstairs to the kitchen, you tried to make it as short as possible.

You came back a few minutes later, with the water jug you had promised, as well as the herbal infusion you had brewed for him. And, even though he probably had the energy to hold the mug to his lips, you didn’t want to test it, so you placed a hand under the warm porcelain for extra support, in case he needed it.

“The doctor said these type of fevers are expected.” You reassured him, as well as yourself, and gently pushed the sweaty hair out of his forehead as he drank. “And you’ve already began to sweat it out. Mother says sweating is an indication that your body is slowly recovering.” You caressed his head lovingly, composing a smile that, in your current mental state, felt very unnatural. “She taught me this recipe. It’s not as pleasant as your favorite lemon tea, but it’s very effective.”

“What do you mean? I would drink this every day.” He joked before taking another sip. “I should thank your mother later.” His voice, sounded just as feeble as his grip, and his labored breathing made it seem as if words were made of lead, and it took everything in him to say them. “Speaking about that, how’s everything back home?” His eyelids looked heavy, and you felt like they could fall closed any moment now, which would be good, actually. “Your parents must have been happy to have you back home with them.”

You needed him to close his eyes and rest, but you figured a little distraction from the distress he was going through would also help his body in some way. So you geared up for unleashing a very long, and hopefully sleep-inducing, summary about your Winter.

You remembered telling him about your embarrassing losing streak in draughts against your father, about your mother’s new obsession with creepy garden gnomes, about the week you spent in the countryside visiting relatives, and about the rum cake recipe you learned from your grandmother, all while very carefully omitting the part where you obsessed over his relationship with Commander Nile’s now wife, as well as the awkward details about that time your parents tried to arrange a marriage for you.

You also remembered telling him about the horror novel you had started reading, and even came clean about your struggles to fall sleep alone in your room after finishing chapter eleven. And you also remembered him chuckling at your confession. You remembered all that conversation.

However, what you didn’t remember was climbing into bed with him, and neither cozying up to his side under the soft, comfy blankets. You didn’t remember your muscles relaxing against his warm chest, nor your eyes closing. But you did remember the beating of his heart against your ear, and how safe it made you feel, whether it was in the middle of a mission gone wrong in a forest full of titans, or in the middle of the night in his bed, next to him.

The gentle sun rays of the early morning were the first thing to greet your eyes when you opened them again the next day.

And the second thing, was the sleeping figure beside you. You smiled to yourself, both because of the pleasant warmth of his embrace, and also because you were relieved to finally see him rest. The tea you had given him last night was one of your mother’s effective brews for pain. Maybe, and you said this with the type of maybe that is full of hope, his wound wouldn’t hurt as much today.

You had to get ready for work but you couldn’t move without risking waking him up. So you decided to be a few minutes late that morning. In your position, with his arm around you, holding you close, it wasn’t a difficult decision really.

He was so beautiful. There was something about the steady rise and fall of his chest, something about the sunlight and the way it traced his defined jawline, his high cheekbones, the prominent bridge of his nose, all the way down to his Adam’s apple; something about the way the morning light sparkled into the room, the nostalgic shadows it drew on the stone walls and timber floors, the illusion of warmth it created, even though outside everything was covered in a thick, white blanket.

It all made you think of a warm cup of chocolate on a snowy day. Sipping on it while watching the snowflakes fall, sitting by the window, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you in the same comfortable, pleasant way a wool blanket would be wrapped around the two of you.

It also made you think of the last picnic of the fall, sitting under a tree in the middle of some faraway woods, his back resting against the trunk and yours, against his chest. The chilly breeze making the crunchy leaves whisper about the two of you, as his mellow, pleasant voice would read you his favorite story.

And most of all, it made you think about how much you wished your mornings looked like this every day. Waking up to the comfort of his body next to yours, to his strong muscles under your head, better than the softest of pillows.

But there was also something about sunrises and their ephemeral nature, something that reminded you of how distant that future seemed, if possible at all. In a world as uncertain as yours, everything could, and most likely would, abruptly change. One day you could be yourself and the next day… a titan even.

You had read Captain Hange’s reports, both about the weird monkey-like creature they had come across, as well as what happened in Connie’s hometown. According to those papers, there was new evidence that suggested titans could actually be… human. Humans trapped in flesh-eating, cannibalistic monsters.

But, if that was the case, what criteria needed to be met in order to become one of them? Was there a possibility you could turn into one then? You squeezed your eyelids shut when a sudden tide of guilt washed over you, leaving you feeling selfish and inconsiderate. There you were, thinking about yourself when others had actually died, lost a part of themselves, or their whole family like Connie had. All while you were spending the holidays happily with yours. But, could you blame yourself? You didn’t think you could. It was a valid concern to have in a world filled with more questions than answers. A world as uncertain as yours.

And then, there was also Reiner, Bertolt and Ymir. You hadn’t been the closest of friends, but Reiner was like a big brother to everyone, including yourself, even though he was actually younger than you. There was no way he was the Armored Titan, there was no way him and good-natured Bertolt were the spies that had been living under the same roof as you all this time. And Ymir, was she even alive at this point?

“You look beautiful when you sleep.” His voice pulled you out of your head, and you looked up to find him smiling at you through drowsy eyes. Goodness, his morning face was so adorable. So soft. So vulnerable. The huskiness of his voice made you think of how much you wanted to become the first person he talked to every morning.

“Just when I sleep?” You joked, smiling as you propped yourself up on your elbow and brought your face close to his.

He shook his head, hand reaching for your face, lovingly brushing a strand of hair away and tucking it behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, caressing the rough, bristly skin of his cheek with the back of your fingers. As his eyes stared into yours, you saw all those things you wanted to do with him later, the ones you had been dreaming about just moments before he woke up, all those scenes from the distant future you wanted to have with him, and you wondered if he saw something similar in your eyes as well.

“You need to shave.” You said, smiling as your fingers stroked his chin.

You glided the sharp steel gently along his skin, losing yourself in the repetitive nature of the task at hand. There was no need to think about anything, none of that complicated stuff, just about moving the blade up and down, in short, smooth motions, always mindful of the pressure you applied, so you wouldn’t hurt him. There was no need to think about anything but his handsome features, nothing to do but memorize his remarkable bone structure.

And, any other day, you would have been glad to do just that, but not today.

Not today when his eyes were that dull and his lips, that pale.

You studied his distant, empty stare. This was the moment where, in any other situation, one would be compelled or socially required to ask ‘what’s wrong’. But, it was pretty obvious in this case, wasn’t it?

It was too much.

It was all too much.

You sighed, momentarily placing the blade and the basin on a nearby table.

“It wasn’t your fault. It is never your fault. Do you understand?” You asked, cupping his face with both hands, so he couldn’t look away. He nodded, but the way his eyes looked everywhere but at yours told you he actually didn’t understand.

Or agreed.

You held his face for a while, trying to find the right words to say, trying to think of a way you could help lighten the burden. In moments like this, putting your thoughts on paper was incredibly helpful to you, but that was not something you could suggest to him. The titans had even taken the ability to write away from him.

You started to wonder if it was better to have this conversation later, when his body had healed a little more.

Reluctantly, you let the moment go, and wiped the blade on a towel before proceeding to add the finishing touches to the other half of his face.

After some minutes of silence, however, his lips parted slightly.

“They are hum-”

“That’s something we don’t know.” You rushed to remind him, before he could finish his sentence. “There’s no conclusive evidence.” Your eyes were completely focused on the skin in the left side of his face, but your mind, on what he had just said.

“I found it exciting.”

“Sorry?”

“I found it exciting, when Hange told me.” His eyes were staring straight into the fireplace behind you, as if he was talking to the flames and not to you. But, unlike the wood, that started to reply with crackling and popping noises, you decided to remain silent and listen. “When she told me that titans could possibly be humans, I felt excitement.” He then turned to you, blue eyes piercing into yours, and you could have sworn that you saw them sparkle for a brief second. “I felt excitement and anticipation, before I felt guilt or remorse.”

You didn’t say anything, and instead, started to wipe the soap off his face with a wet towel. His eyes were glued on yours, silently waiting for a reply. But, after it never came, he opened his mouth again.

“And that’s-”

“Selfish.” You completed the sentence for him, and he nodded, seemingly satisfied you had finally said what he expected you to.

“I can’t cling to my selfish, comfortable motivations forever.” He said, eyes resuming the conversation they were having with the fireplace behind you.

“They’re selfish.” You spoke again, as you finished wiping the lather off his cheeks, still not looking into his eyes. “But they’re not comfortable.” You glanced at his missing limb. “And it’s you clinging to those motivations, whatever their nature, what has gotten us all this far.” You traced his jawline with the back of your hand, evaluating your own work. It was so soft.

He stared at you in complete silence as you rinsed the blade on the basin. His eyes followed you around the room as you placed the tools back in the drawers you had taken them from. You could feel his eyes fixed on you, but you could also feel that he wasn’t thinking about you. At least not exclusively.

“It’s only a matter of time.” You heard him say from behind you. “Before the wall between us and the truth falls.”

You turned to look at him before walking towards his bed, where you sat on the edge. “And you need to be there when it happens. So, please, get some rest.” You asked him softly, placing a hand over his.

“I had plenty of sleep last night. I can get to work now.”

“Nice try, Commander.” The doctor had been very clear: plenty of rest and no strenuous physical or mental activities. And, although the latter was pretty much a lost cause at this point, you would make that wouldn’t be the case with the first one.

“I really feel like I could go back to work today.” You heard him say just as you were about to leave.

“I’m not going to have to take Captain Levi up on his offer, am I?” It had sounded more like a threat than an offer, but for all practical purposes, it was the same. “You stay here, read or something. Or even better, sleep. I’ll go do our work, and if I have a question I’ll come ask you.”

And you closed the door before he could try to convince you.

next chapter

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