arteastica

[arteastica]

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?

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: 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?☕️ ^^

taglist: @mysticalnightbeliever @aliasrising @elnyrae @mchlist @apts2000 @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @lucifers-nipple-piercing @karmabyfernando @thicc101q @shittyprofilebutfuckit @dilfenthusiast-union

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[arteastica]

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?

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: 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

taglist: @mysticalnightbeliever @aliasrising @elnyrae @mchlist @apts2000 @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @lucifers-nipple-piercing @karmabyfernando @thicc101q @shittyprofilebutfuckit @dilfenthusiast-union

#arteastica writes #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith x reader #erwin smut #erwin snk #shingeki no kyojin erwin #erwin x reader #aot erwin #commander erwin #snk erwin #erwin smith #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith x you #erwin smith fluff #erwin smith smut #erwin smith fanfiction #aot x female reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot fic

[arteastica]

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (24)

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) | (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: 4.4k

As it turned out, taking the post-winter inventory was just as tedious as the winter stockpiling itself, if not a little worse. Your entire arm, from the shoulder down to the pinkie, hurt from holding the heavy logbook; your eyes, from counting every dusty bolt of unused cloth; your back, from bending over to pick up all those fat boxes of untouched grain; and your hand, from writing down all those confusing numbers that had been relentlessly thrown at you all afternoon.

Yes, spending all day inside the storage shed was taxing enough, but you weren’t sure it was worse than what awaited you in your office: The daunting, dragging, and without doubt, ridiculously time-consuming task of condensing all those jumbled up numbers into a detailed log, one that was extensive and comprehensive without turning incomprehensible, so that it could actually be of some use to any ill-starred soldier who found themselves in such dreadful time of the year, when the consultation of dusty old records became inevitable. But hey, the dusty old records left by your predecessors had definitely saved you a frustrated cry or two, so it was only fair you kept the chain going. It was the fair, decent thing to do. Especially when life was so generous to you.

Generous like the orange beams of light seeping through the wood cracks, shining unsparingly on the old cabin walls, as the sun presented its final act of the day. Generous like the ample chorus of cicadas, or perhaps katydids… insects had never been your area of expertise really, performing for free outside the window, announcing that dinner was most likely being served at the castle right now. And you didn’t need to be there to know that the banquet would be generous too, as plentiful and bountiful as the pain all those poor soldiers who spent their day with you at the shed must be enduring at the moment, wincing in pain as they sat down in front of warm meat pies and creamy onion soups. And again, you didn’t need to be there to know that the first comment of the conversation would be something about their feet and how bad they hurt and throbbed inside their boots.

Just like yours did right now.

Yours hurt and throbbed too, but you couldn’t complain.

No, you didn’t feel like doing so. Not even when everyone had already left for the castle and you were still in the shed, in the middle of the woods. Not even when, according to the setting sun and the sudden temperature drop, your shift was supposed to be over by now.

No, you couldn’t complain. Not at all. Definitely not. Especially not when he would kiss you like that, softly and unhurriedly, like the early spring breeze playfully disheveling the tree crowns outside. Not when he would pull away slowly, a smile decorating his glossy lips, admiring you like you belonged in one of those fancy museums your father liked to pretend he visited often. And then, when he seemed to be done memorizing your features, he would pull you in for another kiss, only for the cycle to start all over again. And no matter how many times it had repeated that afternoon, the flutter of butterflies in your stomach was very much ever-present. Without fail, they would show up just as you were about to close your eyes, exactly when his lips were only a hair’s breadth apart from yours. That’s when the butterflies would flutter the most, tickling your insides, and making you giggle.

Making you giggle despite the uncomfortable pile of hay you were sitting on, and the way it was poking your skin through the fabric of your jeans; despite the chilly wind furtively slipping through the cracks of the wood and the way it was making your skin bumpy.

Or maybe it was him the one responsible for that. Maybe it was him, and not the cold, the one responsible for making your hairs stand on end. Yes, maybe it was him and the comfortable hand he kept on the small of your back, gently holding you as yours held his face. Or maybe it was the pleasant way in which the warm sunlight would shine in through the window behind you, artistically gilding the prominent bridge of his nose, masterfully tracing the sharp contour of his jaw, delicately sprinkling the mesmerizing blue of his eyes with gold, making them look like the forest stream from your cabin fantasy, happily glimmering under the sun.

Is this how it was going to be in there, in your little cabin? Kissing in the kitchen, after he comes back from work. His lips on yours the moment he walks in, effectively cutting the words ‘welcome back’ short, promptly trapping them between your lips and his. A reassuring arm wrapped around your waist, telling you how much he missed you. And your hands, cupping his face, telling him how much you did. A wide smile present on your lips the whole time he kisses you, tempted to call it a day already and retreat to the room you share, where you could cuddle under soft, warm covers for the night, but deciding not to when you remember about the pie in the oven. The pie in the oven, you better go check on it. Old-fashioned apples for dinner, because you know how much of a sweet tooth he has, and even though he never asks for it, you always bake something to surprise him with at the end of every meal. Sometimes sugar cream, sometimes orchard pear, sometimes layered pumpkin when you have some extra time, or simple rice pudding when there is none. But always something sweet, sweet like him.

Sweet like the gentle way his lips were cherishing yours back at the dusty storage shed. Softly, unhurriedly, naively, like you had all the time in the world. As if there were no flesh eating giants lurking behind a wall not too many miles away. As if he wasn’t the Commander of the Survey Corps. As if he was just your lover. Simply your beloved and nothing more, the owner of those soft lips now making wet pops against yours, those velvety lips now softly trapping your bottom lip between them, pulling away deliciously slowly, just to start all over again.

Yes, when he was standing between your legs like that, warm chest rising and falling against yours, hand gently holding you close to him, and yours lovingly caressing the bristly skin of his cheek as if it was the softest thing you’d ever get to touch, he became less of a military leader and more like your lover.

“We should get going before it gets too dark.” You said somewhere in between the sugar pecks he was lavishly indulging you with.

“I could kiss you the whole day.” He said, lips puffy and a little red from dancing with yours.

And I could kiss you my whole life. You thought as you stared into his eyes, allowing yourself to travel back to your fantasy cabin for a moment, running a finger across his swollen bottom lip, moist and coated with your saliva. “Well, you can keep kissing me in the office. I happen to have all night as well as a very nice boss who, I’m sure, will understand if I don’t finish this report today.” You smiled cheekily, tapping the papers you had placed in the pile of hay next to you.

“Is that so?” He smiled back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Is he good to you?”

“Very good.” You smirked, emphasizing that last word with a sultry whisper. “He buys me my favorite treats, takes me to fancy parties and then walks me home, doesn’t like it when I work extra hours, puts more wood on the fire as soon as he notices I’m getting cold; oh! and during expeditions, he lets me hug him if I’m scared.” You reminisced fondly of that day, wondering if sometimes he too found himself thinking about the first time you were in each other’s arms, in the Forest of Giant Trees. “He treats me like I’m his princess. Especially when I lie bare on his bed and he makes love to me.”

He stared at you in silence, his attention shifting between your eyes and your lips, and his smile mirroring yours. His demeanor reminded you of the strategic leader he would become at the meeting room, always unpredictable, always ahead of everyone and everything, an experienced chess player meticulously evaluating what his next big move should be. And for a moment, you thought it would involve his lips colliding with yours again, devouring you, your face, your body, as well as your clothes in the process. Making you his right there in the middle of the storage shed, on top of all that prickly hay, like in one of those steamy novels your mother would pretend she didn’t keep under the bedroom mattress. But no, he was too much of a gentleman to do so when you were still in the middle of a conversation.

“Well, maybe because you are.” He finally said, his hand traveling back to your waist and, in a sudden and rather possessive manner, bringing your body closer to his, causing an excited whimper to escape your lips. “His princess.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the words tickling your ears and making you feel as giddy as you remembered your teenage years to be. And like so, you let yourself melt into his embrace, head resting on his chest, and his lullaby heartbeat tempting you to tell him.

About the cabin in the woods.

Who knows? Maybe he knew of a vacant one, where you could move together. Maybe he had also been thinking about it lately, about moving somewhere quiet and remote. Somewhere where the title of ‘13th Commander of the Survey Corps’ didn’t mean anything. Somewhere where he could wake up after eight on rainy Sundays, grab that old history book, or that blue one with the golden title he was always re-reading, a warm cup of something, and lose himself until lunchtime. Somewhere where he could settle down. With you. The white ceremony in the garden, and maybe later, not too long after that, the very same garden becoming the playground where blonde-haired, blue-eyed toddl-

“Would you be interested in visiting the capital next weekend?” He asked, the sudden question pulling you back to the present moment, and making you sit straight so you could come eye to eye with him. He didn’t have any scheduled meetings in Mitras until the end of next month. “My good friend Hansel will be celebrating his Golden Birthday and he asked me to join.”

You knew he wasn’t particularly keen on those types of gatherings, not only that but, with so much on his plate, he didn’t have the disposition nor the freedom to attend that sort of event. So you figured Lord Koch must be a truly remarkable friend for him to consider attending.

“When he came to deliver the horses last week, he also extended his invitation. Admittedly, I did find it odd at first, that he came all the way down here instead of sending his nephews or assistants like he always does.” He explained, his warm fingertips absentmindedly drawing patterns on the small of your back.

Having grown up listening to your father’s stories about Lord Koch, and never really meeting him formally until recently, you had formed your very own ideas about the man. He seemed to be one of those people who would gladly sell their soul if it meant sorcery could multiply them. One of those folks who wished they could, and since they had money… always could, be a part of everything, everywhere, at the same time, and multiple times. Cutting the ribbon at the latest museum inauguration in the morning, accepting the community leader award at his local temple before noon, participating in both a regional chess tournament and a charity auction by four in the afternoon, feeding the poor in the underground cities at six, attending his grandkid’s academy play before speaking at the annual gala for his family foundation, and then finally getting to take his wife on that lavish trip they planned for commemorating their over-thirty years of marriage. Yes, it made sense he never came down here.

“I was told the bearer of the invitation could bring a companion.” His husky, velvety voice gently brought you back to the shed. Once again, you had gotten lost in your own head. It was particularly easy to do so these days.

“Is that so?” You teased, the butterflies in your stomach already flapping their colorful wings, as your heartbeat began to mirror those of a hummingbird. But he would never be able to tell, if the only thing he had to go by was the manual dexterity your fingers displayed as they straightened up the collar of his shirt. “Are you going to invite Captain Levi? I’m sure everyone at the reception would be delighted to meet Humanity’s Strongest.”

“They most certainly would, but Levi would be less than thrilled.” He smiled innocently, clearly playing along with you. “Not to mention the unfortunate remark I found at the bottom of the invitation, which only acts as yet another deterrent to Levi’s participation: ‘feasting and dancing to follow, the right company is advised.’” He looked you in the eyes, a serious expression suddenly taking over his previously soft, amused features. “I’m afraid Levi doesn’t enjoy dancing.”

You let out a hearty laugh that your mother would have undoubtedly found inappropriate, tickled by both the words as well as the disappointed tone he had chosen for delivering them. And he just looked at you the whole time, letting your laughter fill the room, allowing your joy to warm up the frigid evening air. A sweet smile on his lips as you struggled to regain your composure; once again making you feel like the most absorbing of art works, and making it even harder to forget about your forest fantasy.

“That’s why I’m asking my princess.” He said a little later when your laughter faded down. “For the pleasure of her company.”

You weren’t sure he could hear the champagne popping, the frenzied flutter of the butterflies, or the fireworks show he had started inside you; but you knew, because of the way your ears started burning, that he could definitely see the flustered pinks that had taken over your face, as well as the beaming smile you were trying to hide. Yes, you had made love a couple times already, his lips had spent entire nights on yours, his fingers had explored and conquered places no one else’s had before, he had met you at times of the night where friends, and let alone bosses, never do. But this… this was the first time he had straight up asked you to go somewhere together. Not only that, but in the place that husbands usually reserve for their wives. So all things considered, you couldn’t blame your lungs for their sudden inability to hold air, nor your imagination for all the crazy detours it started to take.

“What does she say?” He asked softly, a small, irresistible smile on his equally tantalizing lips as he pointlessly re-tucked an already perfectly tucked strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hmm.” You raised a finger to your chin and pursed your lips, pretending to think. As if there was something to even think about in the first place.

You weren’t too keen on that type of social gathering yourself, or any type for that matter, but you had endured your fair share of frivolous socializing and marble ballroom occasions during your teenage years, for no reason other than your mother telling you to attend. So, why wouldn’t you do it one more time? This time for him, and for the rare opportunity to see him gift-wrapped in something other than his uniform, for the chance to feast on the sinful way the fabric would most definitely cling to his firm biceps, his rock-solid chest, that delicious ass and the matching pair of perfectly designed thighs that came with it. And when your mind began to explore the possibility of seeing his hair slicked back again, a pulsating warmth started radiating from between your legs

“I think you will encounter no difficulties at the party, Mr. Commander.” You said, your eyes watching your fingers as they fiddled with the emerald oval in his shirt. “Bet there will be lots of fair ladies eagerly waiting for you to extend your hand and lead them into the dance floor.” Your lips curved slightly, enjoying the feeling of his hard muscles under your hands as you glided them down his broad chest. “I don’t know. Maybe even some old lover, trying to make up for lost time.”

“I don’t consider any of those to be likely scenarios.”

“Really? No past lovers wishing to pick up the threads? I don’t believe that.” You smiled, feeling his eyes on you, but choosing to keep yours on the patterns your fingertips were now drawing on his chest. “Something tells me you were quite the charmer when you were a cadet.” You said, finally looking up to meet his eyes before comfortably wrapping your arms around his neck. “Tell me, did you break a lot of hearts back in training camp?”

“Quite the opposite actually.” He replied, something about his demeanor, probably the contrived innocence you found in his eyes, making you question the veracity of his answer.

“So, you’re telling me that all those skills are the result of sheer talent, and that assiduous practice wasn’t a factor at all?” You asked, unable to believe that all the skill he displayed in bed, all the delicious things he did to you, and all the delightful ways he made your body feel, all that came from natural talent alone.

“It’s a long story.” He answered, his hand going back to the spot he liked, at the small of your back.

“I have time.” You said, despite the logbook and the fat pile of papers beside you suggesting the complete opposite. “You can tell me about it now, or…” Your smile mirrored the one that suddenly took over his features, telling you that he already knew what your words would be. “You can tell me next weekend, when you walk me home.”

His eyes traveled back and forth between yours and your lips, reminding you of both your late-night chocolate cravings and a wolf stalking an innocent prey. And then, reluctantly letting your arms drop from their comfortable position around his neck, you added:

“Oh, my bad. How pretentious of me to assume without asking first. Would you please be so kind as to walk me home this time too, Commander Smith?” You asked, already knowing the answer, but pretending to wait for it, as your fingers fiddled with the strings of his bolo tie.

“Even if you lived on the other side of town.” He replied, his rich, irresistible voice making you think of crackling campfires under vast, starry skies.

“Really? I heard Lord Koch’s Mitras estate is in the very outskirts of town.” You teased, playfulness making your lips curve into a mischievous grin.

“I’d walk you home even if it was in Wall Maria itself.”

“Wow, that’s very far to go for someone, Mr. Commander. Especially when that someone is just your assistant.”

He shook his head lightly before replying. “I’d think of it as another felicitous opportunity to spend time with her, which would be heaven-sent indeed, considering I just miss her all the time.” He confessed, bringing your body closer to his, and making the tips of your noses touch. “Even now.”

And you had to fight the overpowering urge to kiss those lips, the urge to behave in very unladylike manners and ask him, beg him, to do equally indecorous things to you with those beautiful, perfectly round, sinfully soft lips that were smiling so prettily at you right now.

“Is that so?” You smirked, wrapping your legs around his waist and trapping him between your thighs. “There, now you can’t escape her.”

“Wasn’t trying to.” He whispered, his voice so deep and so smoky it made you think of the fireplace back at the castle, not the one in your office however, but the one in his room. In front of his warm, soft, tempting bed. As familiar and homelike as the one in your very own room back in Mitras.

And you stole a peck from his smiling lips, before happily returning your arms to their favorite position around his neck, where your fingers started playing with the short hairs on his nape.

You weren’t the biggest admirer of Leon’s uncle. Not that he had done anything bad to you. In fact, you had barely interacted with the man. Admittedly, you did remember cursing his name on an occasion or two, but that had been so long ago. So long you had almost entirely forgotten about it.

You started to reminisce, discovering your own reflection in the beautiful sapphires now staring back at you.

During your academy days, perhaps? When you were still living back home, and your father used to come back late every Thursday. Because Thursdays were his anticipated ‘chess nights’ with Lord Koch, which you had always suspected to be just a façade for their conspiracy theory club. You see, there was only one thing, other than your mother’s green tomato pie, that would make your father’s eyes sparkle the way they did on Thursday nights, and that was royal conspiracy theories.

He believed King Fritz was just an impostor, a very apathetic an alcoholic one, a puppet king placed on the throne by the council for some questionable reason, for the sake of some secret agenda they were trying to hide from the common folks. And that very reason, and not chess, was what his little club sat down to discuss every Thursday. There was no way your father would enjoy a chess club, because if there were two things everyone knew about him was that, one, he hated losing, and two, he never won at chess.

But that’s besides the point. You remember growing to dislike Lord Koch over the years because he used to keep your father for far too long at those so-called ‘chess meetings’, which usually translated in your stomach growling for hours until he finally decided to come home, because your mother always insisted that ‘eating together as a family’ was important, and that the loss of such tradition was slowly leading to the demise of society. But those days were long gone and forgotten, and you liked to think you weren’t good at keeping score or holding grudges against random people.

So no, it definitely wasn’t that. The disfavor you, inadvertently, still regarded Lord Koch with was more irrational than anything else, similar to when you would find a classmate, either from academy or training camp, insufferably annoying but could never give a valid reason why. Maybe it was because Lord Koch always wanted to be a part of everything. Maybe it was because everyone seemed to be obsessed with him and you didn’t understand why. Or maybe it was because he had happened to show up then, when the Commander and you were going through difficult times. Yes, maybe it was that. Maybe it was your brain unknowingly associating him with the bad memories from that day: the Commander coming back after spending the whole day riding out in the field with him, asking you if there was something between you and Leon. Why would he even-

“What is it?” He suddenly asked, bringing you back to the dark shed, making you realize that night had fallen over you, and that the moonlight sparkled way more prettily on his eyes than it ever did on the surface of the water. “You’re so quiet.”

“Nothing.” You replied, the corners of your lips instantly lifting at the sound of his voice. “I was just thinking about how much my father sucks at chess, about the King’s seemingly worsening alcohol problems, about how nicely the moonlight complements your features, and about my dresses and which one would be the easiest for you to take off me.”

“Wow.” He blinked a couple times as if trying to understand how were all those things related to each other. “That’s- that’s a very interesting, very peculiar association of ideas. Each one more thought-provoking than the other. Especially the last one.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“Erwin.”

“Mhm?”

You weren’t sure if this was the moment to talk about it, but you found the loving way his eyes were studying your features, as well as the soothing thumb he was running across your cheek rather encouraging. So, you decided to go ahead.

“Did-” You took a deep breath. “Did Lord Koch tell you something back then?”

He didn’t respond and you took his silence as an indication that you could ask more.

“Did he mention anything that made you think there was something between his neph-”

“That doesn’t matter.” He hushed you just like he had back then, when you had tried to ask about the same thing. “All that matters to me is what we have.” He took your hand and brought it to his lips. “Right now.” His eyes were crystal clear, and what you saw in them was exactly what he was telling you. “Whatever happened yesterday, whatever happens tomorrow…all that matters to me is that we had today.” He kissed your knuckles, letting the pleasant warmth of his lips linger on your skin, closing his eyes tightly as if trying to carve the moment into his memory. “And I will always remember it.”

“Me too.” You said, nostalgia suddenly infusing the air of the cabin, creeping into your heart and burdening it with unexplainable melancholy.

I love you.

You confessed in your head as your fingers played with the soft, golden strands on the back of his.

Perhaps all that matters is that I love you. That I love you even if you didn’t say it yesterday and even if you don’t say it tomorrow.

You said in your thoughts as you pulled him closer.

Even if I never get to hear it back from these very lips.

You told him without words, as your lips welcomed his.

Even if they never return these words.

You surrendered without a fight as his tongue claimed what was rightfully his.

I love you just the same, Commander.

You promised him in silence, tasting in his kiss both the bitterness of the lemon and the sweetness of the honey you never forgot to add to his warm cups in the morning.

And I will always do.

Including busy mornings like today's, when it remained forgotten on his desk, still silently waiting for him in the middle of the cold, dark office.

-

next chapter

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#arteastica writes #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith x reader #erwin smut #erwin fluff #erwin angst #erwin snk #shingeki no kyojin erwin #erwin fanfic #erwin x reader #aot erwin #snk erwin #commander erwin #erwin smith #erwin smith x y/n #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin smith x you #erwin smith fluff #erwin smith fanfiction #erwin smith smut #aot fluff #aot fanfiction #aot x female reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot fic

[arteastica]

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

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

#arteastica writes #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #erwin smith x reader #erwin snk #shingeki no kyojin erwin #erwin x reader #erwin smut #aot erwin #snk erwin #commander erwin #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith x you #erwin smith fanfiction #erwin smith smut #aot fanfiction #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #aot smut

[arteastica]

attack on titan in hita (3)

If I had to choose a favorite part of the experience, it would be the aot museums. It was so fascinating, not only because of all the interesting info available there, but also because of the equally interesting goods you can find inside haha The first museum we went to was located next to a local farmers market, where they sell aot themed [insert everything here] kkkkk from ramune, to sweet potato, to instant noodles, liquor, tea, cookies, shampoo and conditioner, towels, and even survey corps geta (kimono sandals) among other things haha

Inside the museums, you could find Isayama-sensei’s life in pictures, a recreation of his workspace, recognitions he was awarded over the years, doodles and sketches, and my favorite: the curious facts and insightful explanations written below important panels of the manga. In one of them, he was discussing the meaning of attack on titan and it reads “I had this idea in my mind from the beginning when I was working in vol. 1. A boy, whose hometown is devastated by titans, swears revenge on his enemies, and becomes the very type of monster that he saw when he looked up at the titans the day of the attack […] you think it is a story about being attacked by titans, but it is actually a story about becoming a titan and attacking.” He really got us from the very beginning🥹 we stood no chance against the plans he had for us.

About that scene where Reiner and Eren meet again in Liberio on the night of the attack, and Eren tells Reiner he is glad he was able to come back home, Isayama-sensei said: “Eren’s lines seem to be sarcastic, but I think he was actually truly happy that Reiner was able to return to the hometown he so wanted to return to.” And to me, someone who’s all soft for the bond between the 104th training corps kids, this piece of info was so🥹

Also, he said he added the panel of the colossus titans crushing a place that looked like Japan, because he wanted Japanese audience to feel the horrors of the rumbling from a more personal perspective, and not as something that doesn’t concern them because it’s happening in a random faraway place that doesn’t exist, which I thought was super interesting.

Actually, I’m lying. My favorite part of the trip was obviously this life size cutout of Reiner😌

#arteastica rambles

[arteastica]

attack on titan in hita (2)

The very first place we went to was ‘the wall’ and the bronze statue of EMA looking up at it, meant to recreate that iconic scene from the first chapter of the manga. It was “made possible thanks to a crowdfunding effort made up of many fans who shared a desire for the children and people of Oyama Town (Isayama-sensei’s hometown) to have the courage needed to take on the unknown and overcome hardship” as written on the plaque next to the statue.

The wall is really the Oyama Dam and the place itself, as well as the road leading there, are super scenic and picturesque. We went on a chilly, rainy day and imo the weather only added to the atmosphere kkk I was listening to nisennen, shougeki and name of love on the ride there and I was feeling it you guys haha

There is an app that you can use to take AR pictures of the wall, where the colossus is supposed to appear peeking behind, but the pictures weren’t coming out as we expected (or maybe we don’t know how to use a camera🤡) so I just ended up photoshopping bertolt into my pictures later when I got home kkkk

#arteastica rambles

[arteastica]

attack on titan in hita (1)

Last December, I had the opportunity to visit Isayama-sensei’s hometown of Hita, a beautiful town nestled between lush mountains. And although I went there for AOT related reasons, the breathtaking views and atmospheric landscapes alone are deserving of a visit imo, even for those who are not fans of the manga.

The town is overflowing with AOT energy, and I can’t describe it any other way haha There are aot flags as well as Isayama-sensei’s signature (chibi Mikasa doodle kkkk) all over the city, green survey corps banners pointing to aot related locations in every corner, and they have this stamp rally where you can scan a QR code to get a stamp. The codes are scattered all around the city (in cafes, shops selling local handicrafts, markets, restaurants, etc) encouraging visitors to browse the shops and inevitably support the local economy in the process, which I thought was very cool.

It was pretty clear from the get go that Hita is very proud of Isayama-sensei and his work. I went there with a friend and her mom, who are from the nearby city of Fukuoka, and although they already knew about aot, since it is obviously very popular in Japan, they had never really read the manga or watched the anime. However, Isayama-sensei left such a lasting, positive impression on them that, as soon as we got back to Fukuoka, my friend started watching the anime and her mom bought all the volumes of the manga to read them over the New Year Holiday. They told me that he seemed like such a genuinely nice person and that seeing how well-liked he is in his community made them want to support his work as well, which is really 🥹

We had lunch at a Yakisoba restaurant near one of the AOT museums. My friend told me that Isayama-sensei used to work part time in this restaurant back in the day. And inside, we found these doodles he drew of Levi and Sasha😂

#arteastica rambles

[arteastica]

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?

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: 2.9k

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.

-

next chapter

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

#arteastica writes #erwin smith x reader #shingeki no kyojin erwin #erwin snk #erwin smut #erwin x reader #aot erwin #snk erwin #commander erwin #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith x you #erwin smith fanfiction #erwin angst #aot smut #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #erwin fanfic #aot angst

[arteastica]

Pls author make him say i love you please 💔

Hello anon! Omg I think we’re gonna have to wait a little more for that to happen, anon🥹 I have written it into his dialogue so many times but it doesn’t fit. It sounds ooc😭 That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel that way tho🥹 hopefully he’s able to show his feelings in other ways, bc she’s having her doubts🤡

#arteastica replies

[arteastica]

author please let erwin **** ******** ***** ****** ***** **** ***** ******** the reader. thank you. hope your day/night is going great 💛

Hello anon! What is this riddle? someone pls help me solve it kkkkk😂😂

Hope your day is going great too anon😂

#arteastica replies

[arteastica]

Will the new chapter drop today bae?? Bc i will skip my morning class :*

Hahaha hello anon ^^ that was my intention, but I’m currently editing it and it just keeps getting longer and longer in a smutty type of way and I’m still not done🤡 I’m so sorry 🥹

#arteastica replies

[arteastica]

hello ive been reading everything for months and i really love it

can you please remind me what chapter it was when they went to the ball and also when they first did it

please and thank you i am so numb i want to feel something

Hello anon! Thank you so much for writing and for the compliments on the series🥹 they really make my day! I’m so happy you are enjoying the story! And sure! Chapter 8 is when they go to the ball. And they do it for the first time in chapter 10~12. I hope you can feel something again while reading them haha thanks so much for following the story and for the continuous support! I’m working on chapter 22 as we speak🥹

#arteastica replies

[arteastica]

To draw or to write?🤡 that’s the question.

#arteastica asks

[arteastica]

german anon here 😭 oh you’re such a tease!! that was so good!! i’m dying for the next one i wish i can skip time 💔 please make him say ‘i love you’ author

Hello anon! Omg it makes me so happy to know that you enjoyed the new chapter! And don’t worry, I’m currently working on chapter 22, however I’m also feeling this unexplainable and very intense need to draw Erwin in underwear and I’m afraid that if I cave in, I won’t have ch 22 ready by Sunday🤡 tough life choices one has to make

And about Erwin saying I love you, well I don’t think he will say it explicitly anytime soon, anon🥹 I have written it into a few dialogues before but it never sounds/feels right, so I always end up editing it out. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t feel that way towards her, you know, or that he won’t say it in future chapters. I think he’d be the type to show it rather than say it. What do you think?

#arteastica replies

[arteastica]

Biting at the bars of my enclosure for your erwin

Hello anon! Hahaha omg so sorry about the 2 day delay 😭 I hope that the new chapter delivered🥹

#arteastica replies

[arteastica]

are you a libra? or leo? just curious, love your art!!

Hello anon! Thank you so much🥹 I’m happy you enjoy my art❤️ and omg so close haha! I’m a scorpio kkk what about you?

#arteastica replies

[arteastica]

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?

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: 2.4k

“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

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