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arteastica · 11 months

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (14)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

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: 3.6k

“He absolutely despises me.” Hitch took a sip from the generously sized mug you had brought for her when she had appeared at your front door earlier that afternoon. She then pulled your favorite childhood blanket over her knees before proceeding to wear an amused expression that, much to your confusion, completely contradicted the story she was telling. “I would love to say such hate is unfounded but…”

“What did you do?” You eyed her suspiciously, the corners of your mouth already curving up in preparation for the inevitable burst of laughter that always followed your friend’s stories.

“Well, you need some context first. This man. He is a creep. And by creep, I mean his soldier is always standing. Even when it doesn’t have a reason to.”

“Quite alarming indeed. Especially if he’s your superior.” Your nose crinkled in disgust. You couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it would be to work under someone like that.

“Right? And also for the sake of context, I feel you should know that he has a god complex. He even told some of the girls that he has royal blood and that, get this, was supposed to be a prince! Ha! As if!” She rolled her eyes in disbelief before continuing with her story. “Anyway, he’s always following the girls around like a dog, not me though, because in case I haven’t made it clear by now, he doesn’t like me. Luckily.” She raised a finger to emphasize. “And if you are a boy, or me for that matter, you can be damn sure that he will find the most unpleasant and annoying activity and immediately task you with it.” She smirked and her face reminded you of a high schooler who was about to brag about their grades. “He already disliked me before the night of the ball, but after it, oh I made it to the top of his list!”

You nodded, leaning forward, eager to listen to what was coming next. You knew you were about to get to the part of the story where the Hitch in her name was going to show.

“So, everybody who had been working that night was on the verge of a mental collapse and couldn’t wait to go home and have it in private. We were waiting for the last guests to leave and when they finally did I went to him, my superior, who was talking with a wealthy looking grandpa and, what I hope was his daughter, to inform him that all the guests had left.” Hitch decided to take a sip of her chocolate, and you couldn’t help but feel that it had been solely with the intent of creating anticipation, and not exactly because she was thirsty, but you had to admit it was working. “He saw I was exhausted, so naturally, like any good boss would, he told me I could go home…” She brought the mug to her lips again, but you widened your eyes at her, so she decided to complete her idea instead. “After I made sure the toilets were spotless.” You looked back at her with a pained expression that completely contrasted the proud grin that, for some reason, was crossing your friend’s face. “The stupid smirk he had on his stupid face told me he was expecting me to complain, but let me tell you, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Because instead, I accepted my fate with grace and walked away after leaving some equally graceful words behind: Yes, your hardness.”

You opened your mouth wide, stomach already tensing up in anticipation of the good laugh you were about to get, but before that, you needed to ask one more question. And, as if guessing what it would be, Hitch nodded. “Yes, the shape was clearly visible through his pants. You had to see his face. It was an unforgettable evening, indeed.”

A pleasant warmth filled your chest the same way your laughter filled the room. You looked at Hitch through teary eyes and realized how much you had missed your friend. You couldn’t complain about life back at the base, but you really craved moments like this, with her, moments that had been part of your night routine during the three full years you had spent as roommates.

After the laughter died down and you were able to speak again, you asked: “But like, how come you are still alive after that?”

“Well, as you may imagine, things would most definitely get terrible after such an incident. But I can’t confirm that, because I didn’t stay to find out. The next morning, I went to Commander Nile and begged him to transfer me to another unit.”

“And? Did he?”

“Yes, but I had to write like ten formal requests and practically get down on my knees before he even started to consider it. Because the thing about Commander Nile is that he is also insufferable, only that he does it in a different way.” As you listened to Hitch complain about her superiors, your heart started to take distracting leaps inside your chest, and you did your best to fight back the smile that threatened to spread across your face at the thought of your own boss and how good he was to you. He was good. So good.

“He’s moody and annoying, but at least he’s respectful, professional, and most importantly, isn’t trying to sleep with everyone. Oh my goodness. Not me complimenting Commander Nile.” She crinkled her nose in disgust. “Anyway, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s moody all the time, and permanently has the face of someone who hasn’t been able to poop in years. At first, I thought it was because he wasn’t getting any, but then!” She raised her voice, suddenly and unnecessarily, and in an equally dramatic fashion, raised both index fingers as if asking you to pay close attention. “The other day his wife walked into the headquarters, and imagine the way my jaw dropped to the literal pits of hell when I saw her.” You shuffled in your end of the couch, making yourself more comfortable. Other people’s business was your favorite literary genre. “Not only because Commander Nile pulled a one-eighty, completely transforming himself from insufferable boss to soft-eyed husband in a matter of seconds, but also because his wife is the complete opposite of him.” Her eyes widened, and even though you weren’t too fond of the annoying cliffhangers she deliberately sprinkled here and there in between sentences, you loved how expressive she was. It was all part of her incredible storyteller skills.

“What does she look like?” You sipped from your mug. The chocolate, nice and warm, and just as sweet as you liked it.

“A goddess. Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe her. Beautiful falls short. Stunning doesn’t do her justice.” She explained, very dramatically. “Okay maybe I’m exaggerating but she does look good. Lush strands of gold falling to her hips, swaying synchronously with them as she gracefully makes her way to wherever she has decided to charm with her presence next. It’s important for you to know that she doesn’t just walk, she makes her way gracefully.” You knew what she meant, you had come across that type of people before. The holders of the type of grace that couldn’t be learned, borrowed, or created from experience. And you suddenly remembered the title of a book the commander kept in his office: ‘Walking artwork. Talking poetry.’ The name had stuck with you for some reason, maybe you would borrow it from him one of these days. “Eyes bluer than the summer sky, porcelain skin that reminded me of that expensive doll I spent half my childhood begging my mom to buy for me.”

“Are you sure you aren’t in love with your boss’ wife?” You joked, as a part of you wondered what it would feel like to be so attractive and unforgettable that people would spend so many words attempting to describe your beauty.

“Actually, I’m not sure. Because on top of elegance and good looks, she also has manners and good personality. She smiled and greeted everyone she passed by. And it wasn’t one of those fake smiles you put on just to show your perfect teeth, you know. She’s genuinely charming, and most importantly, smells good.”

“You’re right. Smelling good is what it all comes down to in the end.” You agreed, smiling to yourself at the thought of a very distinctive, musky scent you had grown quite addicted to.

“I don’t understand how someone like her ended up marrying my boss. She could have married anyone she wanted. In fact…” She smirked in a way that successfully reminded you of good old classroom gossip. “Did you know she was this close to marrying your boss?”

You held the mug against your lips, fingers completely freezing around the warm ceramic, unresponsive hands forcing you to taste the liquid that had strangely turned bitter all of a sudden. Sour, even.

“Oh yeah, I heard it from my senior.” Hitch explained, completely misreading your reaction, wearing an amused expression, as she continued to provide gossip that, at any other point in your life, you would have found juicy. She had no way of knowing the silent commotion that piece of information was actually stirring inside you. “Apparently, they used to be close friends back in the day, all three of them. Both, your boss and mine, were completely smitten with her.” You realized your chocolate had gotten unpleasantly tepid as well. “But she ended up choosing mine instead. I wonder if she regrets her decision. Because I would sure as hell do. I mean look at your boss. He’s aging like fine wine, and then look at mine.” She made a face that, under any other circumstances, you would have found funny, maybe next time, when your heart stopped acting like a lemon, a very bitter one, being squeezed for lemonade, and your chocolate, like you hadn’t sweetened it yourself. “But maybe I’m biased, since it’s mandatory for everyone to hate their boss. You know, rule of thumb, law of nature, common sense. Which reminds me, how’s life working under the infamous Erwin Smith? Is he as insufferable as your average boss or worse?” She asked, bringing the mug to her lips.

“We slept together.”

“Sorry?” You didn’t know if she was double-checking because she didn’t believe her ears, or because she didn’t actually hear you, as you had purposely lowered your voice in fear your mother would catch this part of the conversation.

“I slept with the commander.”

“You fucked Erwin Smith?!” She shouted, effectively choking on the sip she had just taken.

“Yes, but please don’t announce it to everyone. I don’t want Mother to think that’s the only thing I’m doing there. Even though I wish it was.” You added, unable to stop your teeth from biting your bottom lip, as the rest of your body reminisced about that night.

“Okay but, I knew it!” She then said, now whispering.

“What do you mean you knew it?”

“I saw the way you look at him. At the ball. I instantly knew those eyes were looking for, you know, a little bedroom activity.” She glanced at the ceiling as if it was a cabinet filled with her memories, and the wood beams, files she was passing a finger over. “And then I saw you guys leaving together, and I thought to myself: there is no way he isn’t going to rip that dress off her later.”

“I really wanted him to. But nothing happened that night.”

“But then when did it happen? And how? And wait, how old is he anyway? Isn’t he like 15 years older than you?”

“Not that much. I mean, I don’t really know, but-”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter. I’m just asking because, you know the difference in experience brings some very interesting topics to the table… like… tell me, was he any good? Goodness, that face says it all.” She leaned in closer, incredulity making her jaw hang slightly open, and curiosity, her eyes squint tightly.

“The commander’s performance was more than satisfying.” You said in a rather pretentious tone that matched the cheeky smile you were now wearing.

“thE cOmmAndEr’s pErFoRmAnCe wAs mOre thAn saTyiSfying.” Hitch threatened to throw your own pillow at you. “What the fuck does that even mean? I’ll need you to elaborate further, miss. I’m not going back home until you answer all my questions, and I have lots.”

“It means it was fucking perfect. He’s- He’s so-”

“Big?”

You nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“It wouldn’t make sense any other way, would it? After all, it takes massive balls to lead a suicide squad. And it takes a rough, unforgiving, sturdy, aggressive, and unbelievably tough man to carry them.” She concluded, lips curving up in a complicit smirk.

“But he’s, you know, so gentle. And warm. And I- I just-” You realized you didn’t know how the sentence was supposed to end. It was all so hazy and misty inside your head, but in a dazzling way. The haze was silky, hypnotizing even, and the mist smelled good. So good. It smelled like-

“Shit…”

“No! Wait, what?” Hitch’s sudden, and rather random, intervention cut through the haze, dissipating it.

“Do you love him?” She asked, now leaning backwards as if trying to gain a new perspective, fingers stroking her chin as if trying to come to a conclusion. She reminded you of a critic trying to decide what to think about a painting.

“What? I-” You realized the dazzling haze was now turning into a confusing fog.

“You love him.” Hitch’s words lacked the intonation of a question and the vacillation of a suggestion. They sounded like a conclusion. A confident one.

“Wait wait wait wait- That’s a big word. Isn’t it… isn’t it a little too early to be throwing it out there?” When the question left your mouth, you realized it had been directed more at you than at Hitch.

“I don’t know, you tell me. I don’t have much to work with, woman. You have barely provided me with any information. I literally have no context at all, other than he has a massive dick, and, apparently, knows how to use it.” You snorted, mostly out of courtesy to your friend. It was the type of laugh brains automatically play for the sake of avoiding awkwardness, when they are busy processing something else. “I can only tell you what I think based on what I see now, in front of me, sparkling in your eyes, seeping through that huge ass smile you’re wearing.” She gestured with her hand and tried to mirror your expression, as if to make you understand what she was seeing. “What I see escaping through the gaps left by the words you are purposely omitting from your sentences. The parts that, for whatever reason, you are not telling me.” You made a pained expression, starting to feel slightly under fire. “And based on all the aforementioned, I think it’s safe to say my friend is deep into her boss’ shit. Just as deep as he has been burying himself into her all these nights.”

You rolled your eyes. “It has only happened once.”

“All the more telling! It means it only took one taste of his dick to fall in love with him.”

“I didn’t even do that. It was not like… that, you know. I told you he was very sweet.” One thing was to think about it, but to reminisce out loud about him and all the things he had made you feel that night, came with a whole different set of sensations. You were sure your stomach would burst anytime now, simultaneously freeing all the butterflies along with all your secrets. The ones you seemed to be keeping, even from yourself.

Hitch sighed and glanced at the ceiling for the hundredth time that afternoon. It looked as if the more you spoke, the more you proved her point. “Sweet, gentle, warm… Woman, in my experience, when you start talking about a man and his dick like that, you’re already far gone.”

“Am I?” You tried to read yourself, but in doing so, discovered that there was a reason our eyes could see virtually anything but our own face. Before this conversation, it was attraction. You had never questioned the label you had attached to the feelings you had for the commander. But now, now the question was poking at you, and there was something that made you feel uncomfortable and uneasy about changing such label. It was the kind of anxiety you imagined would be felt when walking close to the edge of something, so close to falling, not knowing how high the fall would be, or how long it would last.

You heard a sigh coming out of your mouth. “Hitch. I honestly don’t know. What am I even expecting? Doing? What’s going to happen now?”

“Hey, hey, hey.” She lowered her head so she could be eye level with you, because yours was now staring down at your own lap, admitting some sort of defeat. “It’s okay if you don’t know what you’re feeling. Heck, it’s okay if you love him, as well, there’s no fault in that. He’s not married. Loving him is not punishable by law. And it’s not a mistake either.” She placed a reassuring hand on your knee. “You can’t control any of that shit anyway. It all just happens. Inside, you know. And, as for what’s going to happen? You just keep riding him like a stallion, and sucking him like a good old popsicle.”

You snorted, either your friend’s words or her warm, supportive hand lightening some of the tightness trapped inside your chest. “I haven’t done any of that yet.”

“Oh, I bet you must be counting down the days to go back to work then, unlike the rest of us who are not having heated, toe-curling desk sex with our boss.”

That’s what you thought you would spend the winter holidays doing: happily reminiscing about such heated toe-curling sex until you were able to have it again. But you should have known better than expecting that from your busy, overthinking mind. As you lied in your childhood bed that night, hours after Hitch had left, you tried to think about the commander, and whether he had enjoyed the little present you had prepared for him.

“I left something for you downstairs. It’s sweet and tangy. Can you guess what it is? Make sure to eat it while it’s still fresh. Happy holidays, Commander.” You remember smiling as you placed the small piece of paper beside the game of chess that have been left unfinished the previous night. You remember smiling as you tiptoed out of his room, stealing one last glance at his sleeping figure, before picking up your clothes and closing the door behind you.

But those warm memories must have frozen under the snowy winter night you were staring into, because instead, you found yourself reminiscing about the conversation from earlier. Did you love him? You decided you didn’t want to answer that now. You didn’t want to think about that now. Instead, you wanted to think about him. So you tried again.

What was he doing now? Probably sitting at his desk, working under the candle light. Had he eaten dinner? Probably not. It was so in character for him to skip it, to completely forget about it. If it wasn’t for you bringing it to his office, he would starve. Hitch would say you were acting like his wife. And for a moment you smiled at the thought. For a moment, until you felt a sudden sting in your chest.

So the Commander had been in love before. In love with Commander Nile’s wife. Even though it had probably been years since then, and you had no right to feel uncomfortable about his ex-lovers, you couldn’t help whatever emotions were trapped inside you from uncomfortably poking at your chest, demanding to be let out.

You couldn’t help your chest from stinging at the thought of him letting his hand get held by someone else’s, and his mind get filled with someone else’s smile, and his bed infused with someone else’s scent, and his heart cherished by someone else’s… love. You turned to the other side, and buried your face in your pillow, as if the cotton fibers could provide the oxygen your lungs needed. Did he get close to love with her? If so, how close? Did he miss her? How close had they been? How intimate had they gotten? Did he recall moments he spent with her? Did he sometimes write about them in those journals? In the journals, were there entries dedicated to her, to his feelings for her? Did he sometimes wonder what could’ve been? How badly had he hurt when she chose his friend instead? Was he still hurting?

You hated to be this type of person. But you couldn’t help it. It was all you knew. You pulled the covers all the way up to your chin, feeling colder than the back side of the pillow your face was still buried into. You wanted to fall asleep, either that or to go back to a point in time where this information was unknown to you. But there was something in the air. Something bitter and sour. And it was finding its way inside your lungs. Filling every inch of your body.

Why did you feel as if you had lost a race? As if you had come in second in a competition, a very important one. You didn’t want to know about all the women who had passed through his life, you didn’t want to because thinking about them made you ask a certain question you wanted to avoid answering: Were you also just passing through?

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