braunhamsteren

[braunhamsteren]

fuck, I didn't know, but I needed it…

Why do you only call me when you’re high?

cw: smoking, being high.

small Eren Drabble, trying out AOT.

You only ever text him at night. Not because you plan to—but because that’s when the craving creeps in. For the high, for the escape. For him.

you around?

need you.

You don’t say what you need. You never have to.

He shows up in under ten minutes, headlights cutting through the dark as if he was already on his way. You step out onto your porch in nothing but a big T-shirt and socks. He doesn’t comment, doesn’t look at you long. Just leans over and pops open the passenger door like always.

It smells like weed and leather in his car. Like him.

"Where we going?" you ask, voice low, fingers already trembling from whatever this is—withdrawal or want, you don’t know.

“My spot,” Eren says, his voice even lower.

You nod, and he drives. No music this time. Just the occasional glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You catch him doing it once—his jaw flexes, and he looks away.

You end up at an empty parking lot behind an old laundromat. Windows fogged from the inside out. The world outside doesn't exist here.

He rolls the blunt slow, methodical. He’s always quiet when he does this. Like it’s a ritual. Like if he fucks this part up, everything else between you will slip.

When it’s lit, he takes the first hit. Doesn’t even offer it yet—just turns in his seat to face you fully.

"You alright tonight?" he asks, not like a plug. Like a person. Like someone who cares.

You nod too fast. “Just needed to float.”

He watches you for a long second. Then, without a word, he takes another hit, leans in—and blows the smoke gently between your parted lips.

Your lips brush. Just enough to spark something. Just enough to taste the blunt and him.

You hold the smoke longer than you should, dizzy from more than just the high. When you exhale, your breath mixes with his. He doesn’t back away.

“You always call me like this,” he murmurs. “When you’re low. When you’re gone.”

“I know,” you whisper. “It’s the only time I’m brave.”

He tilts his head, eyes on your mouth. “Brave for what?”

You lick your lips, heartbeat speeding. “For you.”

The silence that follows is heavy. And then Eren moves.

He brings the blunt to his lips, takes a slow drag, and sets it down—carefully—before reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your skin. Warm. Steady. So uncharacteristically gentle.

“You don’t have to be high to want me, you know,” he says, and his voice is raw now. Softer. As if saying it hurts him.

You blink, dazed. “But you only let me close when I am.”

His hand cups your jaw then, thumb brushing over your cheek. Your breath stutters.

“I only let you close,” he murmurs, “because if I don’t, I’ll want more than I should.”

You whisper, “Then take more.” And he does.

His mouth finds yours in that smoky dark, soft but aching. He kisses like he’s been waiting all night. Like this is the real addiction. The heat between you grows fast—your hands slipping under his jacket, his thumb grazing down your throat like he wants to memorize every soft place you let him touch.

You don’t think. You just feel. His lips taste like weed and want. His breath is warm against your skin. His hands know where to be—on your thighs, your waist, cradling the back of your neck like you might vanish.

“Eren,” you breathe between kisses, your voice barely a thread.

He pulls back just an inch, forehead against yours. “Yeah.”

“Do I mean anything to you? When I’m not high?”

He swallows. Then: “You’re my favorite. Even when you're sober.”

You blink. Slowly. “Say it again.”

“You’re my favorite,” he repeats, softer this time. “You always fucking were.”

You kiss him again—deep, slow, aching.

And maybe in the morning, you’ll pretend it didn’t happen. Maybe you’ll go back to only calling when you’re high. But for tonight?

Tonight, you’re not just smoke in his lungs. You’re the burn he wants to keep.

[braunhamsteren]

Part 3 - Armin is an office worker

Armin is a synonym for the word "responsibility". That's why he became the youngest head of an entire department. Other candidates were not even discussed. This young man was born to manage, structure, and analyze. Despite his cute face, you, as the person whose office was next to his, knew perfectly well that it was better not to anger him.

At first, after his promotion, the older generation who found themselves under his leadership, to put it mildly, did not respect him. They spread gossip and even tried to frame Armin in front of the boss. But as time went on, the numbers grew under his leadership, and the elderly accepted him. Arlert is an excellent speaker, and thanks to his public appearances, your company has made many profitable deals.

"Are you older than me?" Great. It will make it easier for you to admit your mistake."

"Our terms are not being discussed. They are the result of your own past decisions."

You performed parallel functions with him, he was the head of the department, and you were a lawyer. You've traveled to a lot of cities on business trips and you've already gotten used to each other. There was no fault to find with Armin, a neat workplace, respectful attitude towards all his employees and a willingness to solve any work problem (if he can't do it himself, he will quickly find someone who can handle it). All the young specialists who came to the company for an internship wanted to get to him. He really was a role model. But some graduates couldn't stand his demands. And you too had a hard time with him sometimes.

"I don't demand perfection. I demand that you meet the deadline."

"Your analysis saved us from disaster. How can I thank you? Coffee or a couple of days off at the expense of the company?"

"Sometimes I want to smash this presentation against the wall. But I'll just redo the slides. Again."

Sometimes it seemed to you that there was too little of the common man in him…But if you look at him more closely, you can see that he's just a young guy with a responsibility. Small details betrayed his enormous stress-red eyes, hundreds of broken pencils, headaches. Despite the fact that you were not his deputy, you tried to do everything in your power to make him rest sometimes. You have been taking care of him for several months because you are a very good colleague. (yes, yes! You liked Armin Arlert, and there was nothing you could do about it.)

On a hot summer Thursday evening, when the entire department had already dispersed. You were collecting your documents when you heard a muffled groan from Armin's office.

The door was ajar. He sat hunched over the table, clutching his temples with his fingers.

"Armin?" You knocked carefully.

He abruptly straightened up, instantly putting on a mask of composure:

"Did something happen?"

But you've already noticed that his hand was shaking slightly as he adjusted his glasses. That was the last straw.

"That's enough. You got it. I have 30 minutes," you said suddenly, pulling a container out of your bag. "And tom yam soup."

He wanted to protest, but his stomach rumbled treacherously.

"I didn't mean to…"

"It's not a request," you interrupted, placing the container in front of him. "Consider it a court verdict.Not subject to appeal."

Armin froze, then awkwardly reached for a spoon. The first sip and his shoulders finally relaxed.

"Thank you…" he whispered so softly that you barely heard him.

While he was eating, you put the broken pencils in the trash and watered the two unfortunate plants on his closet. Suddenly, he suddenly laughed:

"Do you know what the most ironic thing is? I spent three days preparing a presentation on work-life balance."

You pointed at his monitor:

"Close it. At least for 20 minutes."

He hesitated, but obeyed. And then a miracle happened — Armin leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Without a phone. Without documents.

"When was the last time you went for a walk? Didn't "go to work and back," but just went out to get some fresh air," you asked in the tone Armin usually used to chastise his employees.

"Just recently…" he muttered, without opening his eyes.

"Get changed. We're coming."

"Where to?" Armin asked it so childishly naively.

"For a walk," when he reached for his briefcase and phone, you coldly added. "Without 'work' and everything that might be related to it."

You wandered around the office, and for the first time in a year, he wasn't talking about projects and deadlines, but about his dog, a Jack Russell named Sparkle, who "probably already forgot what I look like." About how Mom, walking with Sparkle, calls every Sunday and pretends to believe his words: "I'm not overworking myself," "I'll be visiting soon." For the first time ever, you saw him really smile- not the office smile on duty, but childishly guilty and sincere.

A month later, you noticed how Armin became more lively and relaxed. He was still responsible and demanding about his work, but without overwork, broken pencils and daily migraines. He even took a couple of days off and went to his mom, who gave you a delicious pie. And when he showed you photos and videos of Sparkle, he smiled and laughed so much. At that moment, it seemed like a little boy with shining eyes was sitting in front of you. You didn't notice how you stopped looking at his phone screen, focusing only on Armin's face.

Noticing your gaze, he asks, slightly embarrassed:

“What? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's simple… I'm glad you're smiling. For real," you looked away, feeling as awkward as possible.

Armin's face suddenly changes, putting the phone aside and asking in a serious tone:

"You know, when I first realized that you were…I'm sorry, it probably sounds stupid, but are you special?"

You looked up at him, not understanding what he was leading to.

"When did I rudely feed you soup and make you go for a walk?" you asked, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

He shakes his head, sits down next to you so close that his shoulder touches yours.

“No. When you put the painkillers in my desk drawer for the third time. You didn't even tell me, you just left them there like it was the right thing to do."

You opened your eyes wide — it was back in winter!

Armin laughed softly and kindly at your reaction.

"Yes, I noticed everything. And herbal tea for sleeping, and the fact that you purposely stay longer at work to check if I'm working overtime, and your little encouraging notes on my desk."

His hand covered yours, fingers gently intertwining.

"I'm just… I didn't know how to say "thank you." How to explain what each of your "accidental" actions meant to me."

You felt your cheeks start to burn.

"Were you just watching me?..all this time?"

“No. I just didn't know how to say it… that I noticed. Every cup of tea, every note, every time you stayed, as if by accident… I was just afraid to scare it off. The way you look at me when you think I can't see."

His fingers gently push a lock of hair away from your face, the touch is so light, as if he is afraid that you will dissolve. You freeze, feeling his hand now resting on your cheek.

"Armin, I…"

But he gently interrupted you.

"And it also turns out that over the past four months, when I called my mom, I talked about you so often that she already considered you her daughter-in-law."

You snorted, poking him lightly on the shoulder:

"Four months? Seriously?"

Armin doesn't dodge, his eyes are shining:

"I keep statistics. Apparently, you were… The ideal candidate?, he replied in a deliberately serious tone.

"A candidate?" You tried to look displeased.

He leans closer.

"For the position of a partner in life. You know, walking together, going to exhibitions, waking up together in the morning…" Armin smiled his most satisfied smile. "The position, by the way, is constant. But of course, you can think about my suggestion as much as you want. I can give you, uh, 10 seconds!"

You couldn't even move, just stared at him in silence, smiling stupidly.

"That's it. 10 seconds have passed. Is silence a sign of agreement?" Armin looked into your eyes with hope, almost like a little puppy.

"Of course, I knew you were a professional negotiator, but this is just the highest level. Maybe I should sign something else?"

Armin pretended that he had just remembered something important:

"Exactly! In our office world, it's impossible without signatures," he turned sideways to you, offering his cheek. "This way, please."

You gently touched his lips, noticing how he blushed. Armin freezes, then slowly smiles — the same childish, sincere smile that everything was started for.

Oh my God! Part 3 was born. I'm on a roll. God, tell me, does anyone like this? Because I hope so! And yes, I won't stop anymore.

Okay, maybe I'll stop for a couple of days after all. I have to go to work.

Part 1 Eren "office boy"

Part 2 Levi "office boy"

[braunhamsteren]

Part 2 - Levi is an office worker

Levi is one of those employees who are often not at work - business trips, meetings in other organizations are all about him. And even if he's at work, he hardly leaves the conference room in your office. And this fact surprises you the most, because Levi is not one of the sociable and talkative people who are usually put in such positions at work, but nevertheless no meeting takes place without him. You didn't see much of him when you first came to work here. However, each time he respectfully wished you a good day as he passed by. Leaving behind a very pleasant fragrance - a mixture of perfume and conditioner for linen.

There are no work messages from him in the general chat, only sometimes a couple of times a month a photo of spoiled food arrives, which someone forgets in the refrigerator and a short "Get rid of it, it starts to stink." He has a very neat workplace, in particular, an empty desk with a couple of pens on it, since he hardly ever sits at it. He carries his small laptop with him everywhere. He's rarely seen talking to colleagues or anyone else, but he always greets everyone as he walks down the hall, holds the door, or helps bring the archive to the warehouse.

"The fewer things, the fewer questions."

"Good afternoon. No, I'm not busy. But not available either."

Levi is a mysterious "office ghost" whose presence is felt more by his scent and rare but apt comments than by personal communication.

"Good morning. Yes, the weather is weird. No, I'm not aware of what's in the accounting department." *takes a mug and goes to the kettle*

You've met Levi several times at general meetings, sitting across from each other. This man is a pleasure to watch. He listens to absolutely everything, makes notes, but in his eyes you can see absolute indifference to what is happening.

Some time later, you were transferred to another department of the office and Levi became your informal boss, in other words, he now had a little control over your work. And you started seeing each other more often.

One day you had to come to work earlier than usual, and when you entered the kitchen, you froze on the threshold: Levi was standing by the window, looking thoughtfully at the next street, holding a porcelain mug with an elegant floral pattern. There is a beautiful glass jar on the table.

"Your tea?" you suddenly ask.

He turns, and his usually impassive eyes narrow slightly:

"My outlet. This is an English Earl Grey with bergamot."

As you got closer to the countertop, you noticed a stand for a mug, beautiful white napkins and a silver spoon.

"You… Take tea drinking seriously," you couldn't help but blurt out.

Levi takes a leisurely sip, then suddenly hands you his cup:

"Try it. Unless, of course, you're one of those people who turns tea into syrup, adds three tablespoons of sugar and drowns cookies in it."

Your fingers accidentally touch his hand when you take the cup. He pulls his hand back a little faster than is polite. After taking a couple of sips, you smile easily. The tea was great. You and Levi just don't say anything for a couple of minutes.

"I noticed you're the only one who immediately washes a mug after lunch," he suddenly says, looking somewhere past your shoulder. "And leaves no crumbs on the table."

You felt your ears suddenly warm up:

"So that's it… A compliment?"

"I'm stating a fact," he puts the jar of tea and the stand in the back cabinet. "But if you need a compliment, then… You are the most careful employee in this office."

At this moment, a noisy group of colleagues enters the kitchen. Levi instantly "shuts down", picks up his laptop and heads for the exit. But as he passes by, he bends down and says so softly, almost in your ear:

"Same time tomorrow. Only… Don't tell anyone."

The next morning, a small tin box with the same tea appears on your table. Without a note. But you understand everything.

From that moment on, you start coming to work early, for that magical moment of having tea with Levi. Sometimes he just silently makes tea for the two of you, enjoying the silence and your cozy company, but lately you've been having light, friendly conversations.

"I'm going on a business trip today. If you're bored, write to me. But only as a last resort." (you already know what that means: "I'll be glad to hear from you.)

"Do you know why I put up with these stupid meetings? Because at least you can be silent there. But with you… you have to choose your words." (after he said that, you could have sworn that his cheeks turned pink).

"If they load you up with someone else's work again, tell them you have a "meeting with me". I'll confirm it."

It was a normal working day, until a downpour broke out outside the window. You were standing at the exit, wondering how to get to the subway without an umbrella, when Levi suddenly appeared next to you.

"You live near North Park, don't you?" he asked, looking at the trickles of water behind the glass. "I'll be passing by."

It was unusual. After all, during all the months of your "tea friendship", your communication did not go beyond work.

His car smelled of leather and citrus. The silence seemed awkward at first, until he turned on the music—something jazzy, not loud.

"You know, I always imagined that you were listening to classical music. Or complete silence. "

The corners of his lips twitched.

"Disappointed?"

"I'm pleasantly surprised."

The rain was pounding on the roof when you were stuck in traffic. Levi turned to grab his bag from the back seat and took out a thermos.

"Just in case," he explained, pouring tea into a lidded cup.

It was the Earl Grey, of course. You sat in traffic for forty minutes, drinking tea and talking sweetly about books, how he hates corporate parties and your stupid habit of losing pens.

When he stopped at your house, the rain had just stopped.

"Thanks for…" you pointed at the empty cup.

"Tomorrow at the usual time," he nodded. "Don't be late."

But the next morning there was no Levi or tea in the kitchen. Instead, you found a thermos on the table with a note stuck on it:

"Business trip. I'll be back on Friday. Don't drink office trash."

And the signature is "L.".

You came earlier than usual on Friday. Levi was already waiting, with two cups and a new pack of tea. A smile involuntarily appeared on your face.

"Indian Darjeeling," he said, as if explaining something very important. "This is for you."

You drank tea in silence, but now this silence has become different — warm, familiar. And when your hands accidentally touched, he didn't move away.

Now you sometimes leave work together on Fridays. And he always has a spare umbrella in his car. Just in case.

The second "office-boy" did not take long to arrive. When I come up with something with Levi, I get more nervous than usual. I hope there's not too much "tea vibe" here.

Part 1 - Eren "office boy"

[braunhamsteren]

I'm going to break the pipe at the sink...Please give me the plumber's number...

About pipes and sinks (+18) - Reiner Braun

It's a hot summer day, and a hot plumber comes to get your sink fixed. No pun intended.

masterlist | rules

rating: +18, MDNI

word count: 5,498

tags: reiner braun x reader, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader, modern AU

cw: PwithPlot, shameless smut, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), PinV sex, safe sex, reiner braun has a big dick, size difference, size kink if you squint

notes: Tomorrow I have a job interview and I wrote this instead of preparing myself. :) What can I say? Reiner gets me inspired. What also inspired me it's the fact that I also have a damn sink in my home that doesn't stop leaking because my building is really old and the insurance company doesn't do anything (and it's really hot outside). Pretty self-indulgent fanfic. Anyways, hope you enjoy it. (English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes.  Also, the setting is inspired by how things work in my country, in case you find it weird.)

You barely register the doorbell over the hum of the fan that’s lazily pushing lukewarm air across the room. It’s hot outside, too hot. And it's no better inside your apartment. Or technically your mom’s, but she lets you pretend otherwise in the meantime. You’re spread out on the couch like you’re melting into it, the synthetic fabric sticking to the backs of your thighs. You have the lightest clothes you found in the closet, and yet, you’re still sweating, tank top clinging to your skin in all the wrong places, leaving little to the imagination. You didn’t even bother with a bra today, and your shorts… well, calling them "shorts" is generous.

The bell rings again.

With a groan, you peel yourself off the couch, brushing some stray hair off your face. You walk towards the door like your legs weigh a ton each, and when you reach it, you don’t even bother checking the peephole. It’s probably your mom anyway.  Maybe she forgot her keys again; she always does.

You open the door mid-eye roll.

You freeze in your spot.

It’s a man.

He looks around your age. Tall and broad shoulders. One arm wrapped around a toolbox, the other hanging loosely by his side. He’s wearing a tight grey t-shirt, and you can’t help to notice how it clings to his chest and arm muscles in a way that should be illegal. His gaze lifts, and his eyes go a little wide the moment he sees you.

You feel it in the pit of your stomach before your brain catches up.

Oh.

Oh no .

Your hands instinctively pull your tank down as much as possible, which isn’t much. You try to subtly cross your arms over your chest without making it obvious, trying to cover the cleavage that just appeared from pulling your top down. You’re regretting your choice of not putting a bra on. Your cheeks burn. 

"Uh..." the man starts, voice deep and a little too hoarse. He tries hard not to stare, and instead fixes his gaze on something above your head. "Plumber. Your mom called about a leak?”

Of course she did. And she didn’t tell you!

You contemplate sending her a strongly worded text, cursing her.

“Right,”  you say, stepping aside so fast your shoulder brushes the door frame.. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“It’s alright,” he mutters, gaze flicking to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but directly at you. “Uh… should I take my shoes off, or…?”

“No, no, you’re good. The, uh… the pipe’s in the kitchen. Under the sink. It started dripping last night.”

You lead him down the hallway, hyper-aware of the way your shorts ride up with every step. You try not to glance over your shoulder, though you absolutely do.

He’s... very hot. Like, shouldn’t-be-allowed-to-do-manual-labor hot. He’s blonde, hair short and messy, and it lets you have a complete view of how face. Hazel eyes, sharp jaw, defined facial features. He towers over you and looks rather intimidating, but you can’t complain; that adds to the hotness. You don’t even realize you're staring until you see him set his toolbox on the counter and crouch low, shirt pulling tight across his back as he opens the cabinet under the sink.

You sit on the nearby stool and try not to combust.

Neither of you says much, and you just wait for him to finish. Every movement he makes draws your eye. The way he tightens a bolt. The way his forearm flexes. The low grunt he makes when something doesn’t budge. The fan hums uselessly in the background, but you’re not hot because of the weather anymore.

After what feels like forever, he leans back with a soft groan, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. His shirt rides up with the motion, revealing a flash of his stomach. You feel your cheeks get even hotter and immediately snap your eyes away.

“The leak’s fixed for now,” he says, standing. His voice is softer than before. His eyes flick to yours and then move away. He rubs the back of his neck. “But, uh… I think it might be an issue with the building’s plumbing system. I’d recommend checking it again in a couple of days. Just to be safe.”

“Okay,” you nod, trying not to look too eager (or too flustered). “I’ll tell my mom.”

You both take your time before heading to the entryway, you walking ahead, he trailing just a bit behind. At the door, he doesn’t open it right away. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, toolbox in hand, and he looks at your face like he’s about to say something. You hold your breath, expecting. But he doesn't say anything.

“I’ll be going now,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Right. Uh, thanks for coming.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He hesitates, then adds, “See you.”

You open the door for him. “Bye.”

It closes behind him with a soft click. You lean against it, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“God,” you whisper to yourself. Your body feels like it’s still holding the heat of his presence. 

You groan and press your palms to your face.

Mom is so dead.

—

It’s been two days since the first visit, and you’re still thinking about it.

You’re not trying to. But it happens anyway. You don’t usually come face-to-face with someone who looks like they walked out of a booktok romance novel, and you can’t help your hormones trying to play tricks on you. You feel bad for fantasizing about a stranger. Hell, you don’t even know his name! But little flashes of memory flood your brain: the way his deep voice sounded, the focused look in his face while he worked,  the way his shirt clung to his back when he bent down–

“Sweetie, can you be home around noon? I had to call the plumber again,” your mom says from the hallway, one arm already grabbing her bag. “That pipe’s still acting up. And I just got called for a midday turn.”

Your spoon froze halfway to your mouth. “Wait - the same plumber?”

“I think so. Reiner, right?”

You repeat it in your head a few times.

It fits him.

“Yes!” you answer a little too fast, nearly choking on your cereal. “Okay! Yeah, I can be home.”

This time, you prepare.

 You swap the booty shorts for a pleated, high-waisted skirt in a light color, and pair it with a cropped tee in a fabric thin enough to breathe, but thick enough to not flash anyone. You put your hair up with a clip, trying to look casual. It’s effortless. Or… it looks like it.

You’ve only changed three times and spent only 40 minutes washing your hair. That’s restraint.

When the doorbell rings at 12:07, you’re already by the door. You smooth your skirt one more time, look if your hair is tidy enough in the mirror, and open it.

Reiner’s there. Same gray t-shirt. Same toolbox. Same serious expression. But when his eyes land on you, his expression changes. His eyes soften, and the corners of his mouth tug up into the ghost of a smile.

“Hey,” he says.

You smile back, more confident than the last time. “Hi.”

The air between you still carries that trace of awkwardness, but it feels… different now.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, gaze flicking down the hall, “your mom said about the pipe is still leaking?”

You nod. “Yeah. She’s not home again, but I can show you.” You try not to sound too excited about being alone with him again. You fail.

As you lead him to the kitchen, you notice he follows a little closer this time. And just before you reach the sink, he asks:

“What’s your name, by the way?”

You turn your head over your shoulder. “Oh, right. We didn’t even introduce ourselves last time.”

You give him your name, and he repeats it back under his breath. You can’t tell if he’s committing it to memory or just savoring the way it sounds. Either way, it sends a quiet rush of heat up your neck.

“That’s pretty,” he says.

Your mouth opens, then closes. “Thanks,” you manage, voice small.

“I’m Reiner,” he adds.

“I know,” you reply, then immediately cringe. “I mean- my mom told me.”

He lets out a short laugh. You’re sure he can tell you’re nervous, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Instead, he sets the toolbox down with care, crouching beside the sink. He doesn’t move right away. His hand hovers near the cabinet handle like he’s waiting for something. Or maybe hoping you’ll say something first. So you gather whatever courage you can find and perch on the stool across from him, folding your hands in your lap to keep them from fidgeting.

“So… how come you’re so young and already doing this kind of work?”

He glances up, eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for saying I’m young,” he says, smiling. “People always think I’m older than I am.”

He shifts his weight, leaning against one knee. “It’s a family business. My uncle owns the company. I started helping out in high school, and then I just… stuck with it.”

You hum, eyes flicking to the tools spread out around him. You’re not sure what else to say, but you’re not ready for the conversation to end.

“And… do you get a lot of pipe emergencies in this building?”

“Not usually,” he answers, gaze softening each time he meets your face. “But I don’t mind coming back.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile like an idiot. It doesn’t work, though.

Eventually, he crouches back down and gets to work. You stay in your usual spot and try to keep things casual. You crack a few jokes. You don’t know where the sudden boldness comes from, but maybe it's easier when he’s not looking right at you. He says he’s never encountered such a problematic sink before. You tell him it is clearly cursed, and maybe it’s haunted. He reciprocates, not missing a beat, “ If it starts talking to you, call someone else .”

You snort, loud enough that you immediately cover your mouth. He looks back from the sink and grins tenderly at you. Something flutters inside your chest. Not just because you’re able to joke with your hot plumber , but also because you’re making a connection with him. And he’s not just good to look at – he’s funny, kind, and patient.

He finishes adjusting the last bit of piping, runs the tap, checks the drainage, and stands up again, brushing his hands on a rag tucked into his back pocket.

“It’s not you guys,” he says. “It’s definitely the building. The piping system’s old and probably hasn’t been updated since… ever.”

You wince. “So we need to call our insurance?”

“Yeah. Or talk to the building association. Maybe both.”

“Ugh. Adult things,” you sigh dramatically

He lets out a low chuckle. “Yeah. It sucks.”

The two of you walk back to the entryway together, your shoulders brushing as you stop by the door. You want to say something. Something cool. Something casual. Like, we should hang out sometime when you're not covered in sink water. Ask for his number, maybe just his Instagram. But it seems all that boldness from earlier is gone. So, you just smile at him and twist the hem of your shirt with your fingers, already mentally resigning this to being a stupid little summer crush you’ll laugh about someday.

You glance up at him. He’s already grabbing the handle. He hesitates for a second before stepping out. And you already know what’s coming. Or rather, what isn’t.  All your fantasies crumble into pieces. You’ll probably cry to your friends in a few months. Remember that hot plumber? Yeah, never saw him again.

But, while you’re mentally grieving something that didn’t even start, he turns back around.

His brows pull together, like he’s debating something. Then, with a scratch to the back of his neck and a too-casual shrug, he says, “Hey. Uh… do you have a boyfriend?”

Your heart does a backflip.

“No,” you answer too fast for your liking.

He nods, trying not to look too relieved. “Cool. Uh… can I have your Instagram?”

You don’t even speak. You just reach for your phone from the piece of furniture by the door, nearly dropping it in your rush to unlock the screen. You hand it to him with shaking fingers. He huffs a quiet laugh and pulls out his phone, typing your username into the notes app. You catch a glimpse of his lock screen. A dog.

Of course he has a dog.

“I really enjoyed talking to you,” he says, already stepping backward down the hall.

You laugh, cheeks hot. “Same.”

“Bye,” he says your name as he says goodbye. It sounds beautiful coming from his lips.

“Bye, Reiner.”

You close the door. You stand there for a full five seconds, frozen. And then, you jump. Not even on purpose. Your whole body just lifts a little with the joy inside you. You cover your mouth with your hands like you’re afraid someone might hear you being this happy.

Your sink is still broken, insurance probably won’t help, it's still burning hot outside… But at least, Reiner asked you for your Instagram. 

Maybe this summer crush isn’t so stupid after all.

—

That same evening, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling aimlessly, still half-warm from the heat that still clings to the apartment. Your phone buzzes.

🔔 @/reinerbraun has sent you a follow request.

You sit up so fast that the sheet tangles around your ankles. Your heart skips, and you tap the notification without thinking. You almost dropped your phone in the process. Again. You really need to start being more careful with your belongings. You hit accept immediately, then you tap on his profile. For someone who looked straight out of a magazine, his Instagram is… normal. It kind of comforts you. He has roughly a thousand followers. Most of his feed is snapshots of daily life: photos at family gatherings, someone’s birthday with a cake held off-center, a selfie with a brunette kid (probably a nephew, maybe a cousin)... He has a few gym pics, grainy mirror selfies… And then the dog. You recognize her from his lockscreen. Big, golden, floppy-eared. She reminds you of him.

You’ve been lurking for almost an hour – zooming in, reading old captions, stalking his friends’ profiles without shame – when another notification flashes across your screen.

📩 @/reinerbraun replied to your story highlight: “Cute ☺️”

Your stomach flips. You forgot that story was even pinned. It’s a selfie of you holding your cat from months ago, blurry and badly liy, your face half-hidden behind fur.

You quickly reply: “omg i forgot that was even there haha. thanks 😳”

A moment later, he responds: “How’s the sink situation btw?”

You grin and sink into your sheets, already typing.

“we still haven’t call insurance, but they’ll ignore us anyway”

You keep texting for a while. It’s easier over text (probably because you don’t have to look directly at his face…). At some point, you ask about his dog, and he sends you a photo of her sleeping next to him. You send one of your cat in retaliation, accompanied by a text that says “ enemy spotted ”. He reacts with a laughing emoji. Sends a meme. You trade voice notes. You enjoy talking to him. He’s funny, and sweet, too.

You don’t want it to end.

But after a while, it does. Your last message – something dumb and kind of flirty, something you wouldn't even know how to respond to if roles were reversed – sits there. Sent. You check again. He’s not online anymore. You stare at the screen longer than you want to admit. You try to brush it off. He’s probably busy , you tell yourself, but still, the ache in your chest lingers. You put your phone face down on your nightstand and roll onto your side, pulling the blanket up even though it’s too hot. 

He was probably just being polite. Just small talk. Still, when you close your eyes, your chest aches a little.

And you don’t have good dreams that night.

The next morning, the sun pulls you out of sleep early. You wake up sticky, already reaching for your phone with half-lidded eyes.

One notification:

(@/reinerbraun) “Sorry, had to run out last night. Something came up. Wasn’t trying to ghost you.”

You read it three times, relief warming you again. But then you notice he hasn’t responded to what you said or follow up the conversation. Still, you type back: “no worries! ^^”

He doesn’t answer. Not that hour. Not that day.

At first, you check your phone constantly. Refresh the chat like something might change if you just stare hard enough. Then, gradually, you stop checking. 

The first few days are the worst. You’re sad and feel like crying. But being frank, that’s on you for getting your hopes up with a stranger.

You’ll end up forgetting him.

—

It’s been a few weeks.

Reiner fades into the background of your mind like a dream you end up forgetting throughout the day. You never unfollowed him. Never deleted the chat. But you're not sad anymore. You can’t afford to spend your whole summer mourning a near-miss. Earth continues spinning.

You continue living your life. One morning, your mom storms out of her room mid-call, muttering something under her breath.

“I swear, they do nothing. We’ve had leaks for weeks now,” she snaps, typing something on her phone. “I’m calling someone else. I’m done with this.”

And then she’s gone, shoes smacking down the hallway and keys jingling behind her. You’re used to this, so you don’t bother to ask. You go back to lounging on the couch, same spot as always, wearing a short beach dress that’s your lightest piece of clothing. It’s a hot summer Sunday, and all your friends have family gatherings, so you don’t have anything to do. You decide to spend your day scrolling through your phone. Your phone is already overheating on your chest when your eyelids start drooping. You fall asleep mid-scroll.

Ding-dong!

The ring of the doorbell pulls you out of your sleep.

Your body reacts before your brain catches up, legs swinging over the side of the couch as you get up. You’re still foggy, limbs heavy with sleep, and you move mechanically, without thinking much about what you’re doing. You open the door mid-yawn –

Oh.

Reiner.

He looks almost the same as the last time you saw him. His hair is a little longer, a little messier. There’s the faintest trace of facial hair, just a few days’ worth, like he shaved recently but didn’t bother to keep up with it. He’s wearing a different tee, but it fits the same way. And he’s also holding the same toolbox. You’ve forgotten this is exactly how you met him. You’ve forgotten him at all.

You blink, heart stammering in your chest. “…Hi.”

“Hey,” he says. Then lets out a small, awkward chuckle. “Deja vu?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “I, uh… wasn’t expecting you.”

“Your mom called this morning. Said it got worse.”

You nod. “Yeah. The kitchen is basically flooded.”

You both smile, but it doesn’t seem genuine. This time, there’s also tension in the air, but for different reasons than the first time. It makes you uncomfortable. You wait for him to say something, to apologize. But he just shifts and looks behind you. “Can I…?”

“Oh, yeah- come in,” you step aside and let him pass.

You feel the tension again. He doesn’t look back at you, doesn’t smile, doesn’t start polite small talk. He knows this isn’t just a normal encounter anymore. He sets the toolbox down by the counter, and you expect him to get to work immediately, so you debate whether you should just go somewhere else to make things less awkward. But instead of going straight to work, he looks at you..

“I wanted to say sorry,” he confesses. “About… not replying. I didn’t mean to ghost you.”

You don’t know what to say. So you just offer a half-shrug. “It’s fine. You didn’t owe me anything.”

“I know. But I still feel like I should’ve said something.” He exhales, scratching the back of his neck.   “I don’t use social media much. And I’ve been working a lot. Some personal things happened… Anyways, I’m really sorry.”

His voice falters at the end, so you put your sweetest smile on your face and nod sympathetically. “Seriously, Reiner. It’s okay. We only knew each other for, like, two days. It’s not like we were –”

“I was afraid I led you on,” he says, cutting you off. His voice is lower now. “I don’t want you to think I was just being polite. Because I wasn’t.”

You swallow. Your chest beats faster with each of his words. You meet his eyesand something in you stirs.

He looks down, like calculating his words, then lifts his eyes back to you. “I was really interested in you,” he continues. “I still am. I wanted to ask you out. That day. But I chickened out.”

Your chest fills so fast it aches. You can barely hear him over the sound of your heartbeat, fluttering wild against your ribs in violent moves.

“So… I was wondering,” he adds, “if you wanted to go out sometime. To get to know each other. This time for real.”

A grin spreads across your face before you can stop it. A genuine one. You curl your fingers into the center of your palm, pressing your nails in gently to ground yourself and not jump out of excitement.

“I’d love that.” 

After that, he gets to work. You sit on your usual stool, but this time, you’re not paying attention. You barely register the sounds of tools clicking or the distant splash of water. Your brain is too occupied fantasizing about what you two could do once you go out. Somewhere between your tenth fantasy and the imagined sound of him saying your name again, he straightens. 

“That should do it for now,” he says, turning the faucet off with a final twist. “Leak’s sealed.”

You nod, blinking back into reality. He walks with you to the door, and like the last time, he lingers. “That was nice,” he murmurs.

You nod again, a little dazed. Your gaze is fixed on him, and you barely notice how close you’ve gotten. His scent surrounds you. He smells like sweat mixed with deodorant, but you like it. He smells manly. It stirs something inside you. Without noticing, you get closer. You don’t plan to kiss him. You just… do. You rise on your toes slowly, tilting your head as your eyes flick to his mouth. You close the space, nervous but sure. His eyes widen in surprise, and for one second, your stomach drops.

Shit. Did I just –

But then one of his hands is on your waist, the other gently cupping your cheek. He kisses you back.

His lips are surprisingly gentle and soft, a contradiction to everything else about him. You wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your chin just right to stay there, toes straining. It’s a chaste, innocent kiss, but you don’t want it to finish. Eventually, your calves start to ache. You lower yourself off your toes, and the kiss breaks. He has a faint pink color on his cheeks.

You smile, a little sheepish. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

He smiles back at you and grabs you, mouth crashing into yours again. This time, the kiss is messier and deeper. His tongue brushes your lips, and you open instinctively, letting him in. 

You whimper into his mouth, the sound muffled by the contact. His hands are everywhere – your waist, your back, your face. Yours slide into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands at the nape of his neck. He groans softly as you pull, and something about that sound goes straight into your core.

He pulls back, breathing hard. “I’m sorry if I’m going too fast…”

You shake your head, lips parted. “Don’t worry… I like it.”

You kiss him again. His hands slid up your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you, still kissing while he walks you through the apartment. He kicks open a door. Your room. Then closes it behind him. He tosses you gently onto the bed. You land with a bounce, blinking up at him as he stands there, breath heavy, muscles rising and falling beneath his tight shirt. 

And… then it hits you.

Your heart pounds against your ribs. What you think is happening, it’s happening. You’re obviously not a virgin, but the last time you had sex was months ago, before breaking up with your ex. You're also not used to hook-up culture, never done it in your life. Reiner notices, kneels beside you, and brushes your hair back.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

You bite your lip, then reach for his hand. “I want to,” you whisper. “I want you.”

And with that, he’s on you again.

This time, his kisses are hungrier.  He nips at your lips, sucks on your tongue, his hands gripping you everywhere. His body settles over you, one knee nudging between your legs until your thighs fall open. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, down the line of your collarbone, dragging his tongue over your skin and savouring you. His hand slips under the hem of your dress, fingers brushing along your thigh. You arch up into him.

“You’re so soft…” he groans when his fingers touch your bare thigh.

His hands push the fabric up until the dress is bunched around your waist. His mouth moves to your stomach, your hip, kissing slowly like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. When his fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses and looks up at you.

You nod.

He slides them down and stares at your bare cunt like a hungry man.

“You’re beautiful.”

You reach for his shirt and tug. He lifts his arms so you can pull it off, revealing everything you had only imagined: broad chest, toned muscles covered by a soft layer of fat, a soft trail of blonde hair disappearing into his jeans. You run your hands all over him, fingers tracing muscle and skin like you’re the one memorizing him now. He continues kissing down your body, now trailing soft kisses in your inner thighs until he meets your entrance. There, he press a soft kiss in your clit. You gasp, fingers flying to his hair. His tongue slides out and he starts licking. His mouth is hot, wet, his lips wrapping around your clit, and then his tongue dragging along your entrance. He hums low when you arch beneath him, and the sound sends sparks straight to your cunt. One of his hands grips your thigh. The other moves between your legs, fingers slicking through your folds before pressing inside, sliding one finger inside of you. Then another. You’re so wet, so you don’t put much pressure. He pumps them slow at first, then faster, curling them at just the right angle, matching the rhythm of his tongue. You’re panting now, your thighs trembling around his head. You feel your release building with each movement, with each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers –

“Reiner -” you moan, feeling it.

Your body tenses, back arching off the bed as your orgasm hits hard and fast, your legs pressing around his head. He doesn’t stop, helping you through it. He groans against you and drinks every last drop of your juices. When you’re done, he sits up. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, lips soaked with your cum. He licks his lips with his eyes locked up with yours, and you almost faint.

You’re still catching your breath, legs still shaky from the aftershocks of release, when Reiner moves back up your body. He kisses you, and you taste your release in his mouth. His weight settles again over you, and you part your legs to welcome him.

Your fingers find the waistband of his jeans.

He starts unbuckling his belt, but then stops. “Wait, do you have a condom?”

You nod and reach over, opening the drawer of your nightstand. You’re grateful now that you didn’t throw them out. He takes one from your hand, kissing your knuckles as he pulls back. He strips, pulling his jeans and boxers down in one single motion.

His cock springs free, slapping lightly against his abdomen.

Your mouth waters at the sight. He’s big. Not only an above average size, but also thick. Veins run along his shaft, tip flushed and glistening. He’s more than you expected, more than you’ve ever had. Your thighs squeeze together instinctively. You’re not even sure how you’ll fit him.

He notices you staring and smirks.

“Like what you see?” He says as he tears the condom open and rolls it on with ease.

You can’t even respond.

He settles over you again, and your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close. His hand reaches down to guide himself into your entrance. You feel the head of his cock slide trough your folds, and you moan with your lip between your teeth.

He pauses and looks up at you. He wants to see your face when he enters.

Then, he presses in.

You gasp, loud, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body stretches around him. It’s been a while since you last had sex, and he’s too big. It burns at first. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he groans, holding himself back.

“Fuck,” he hisses, forehead resting agaisnt yours. “You’re so tight.”

He doesn’t push all the way in yet. He shifts his thumb down your clit and starts rubbing slow, gentle circles. You exhale shakily, the pain easing into heat. Your walls relax, and he presses deeper. Both of you moan when he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours. You feel so full.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice gentler now.

You shake your head, lips parted and eyes half-lidded. “No. Feels… amazing.”

He waits one more second. Then pulls back and starts to move. The pace builds fast, he doesn’t hold back anymore. His hips snap forward with force, and you cry out, your head falling back as he drives into you over and over. His cock hits deeper, deeper than anyone ever has, brushing your cervix with every thrust.

Stars explode behind your eyes.

He grabs your hips, shifting your angle, and suddenly he’s hitting that spot – that place inside you that makes you forget your own name. You moan, and he isn’t silent either. He grunts as he fucks into you, sweat beading at his temple, his hair sticking slightly to his forehead as he slams into you with brutal rhythm.

“You feel – fuck – you feel so good,” he groans.

His fingers find your clit again, rubbing in fast, messy circles, syncing with the snap of his hips.

“I’m gonna -” he gasps. “I’m gonna cum.”

You fall apart beneath him, crying out his name over and over. “Oh my god - ReinerReinerReiner -”

White-hot pleasure surges through you, stronger than before, your body spasming around him. He lets out a broken moan, thrusting deep one last time and staying there, pressed flush against you as he comes. You feel the twitch of his cock inside the condom, feel him holding himself together just before he collapses over you, trembling form the release.

The room is quiet, except for the sound of your breathing. His body is warm and heavy on top of you, but you’re too tired to notice the pressure of having a very heavy man above you. 

Eventually, he lifts his head and kisses your temple. He pulls out gently, careful with your oversensitive body, then slips off the condom and ties it before tossing it into the trash bin near your desk. He crawls back into the bed beside you and pulls you close. You curl into him, naked and flushed, cheek pressed to his chest, fingers tracing lazy circles over his ribs.

“I still want to take you on a date,” he says before kissing your hair.

You laugh like a flustered schoolgirl. “That’s fine by me.”

“How about we take a shower and go get something to eat?”

[braunhamsteren]

I will say it 100 times and I mean it: I will not find anyone better than you, my sweet boy!

ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱ!ᴇʀᴇɴ…?

Before you're together -

Eren’s not subtle. Like at all. If someone’s flirting with you, his jaw’s tightening, his fists are clenched, and he’s staring like he’s trying to set the guy on fire with his eyeballs.

He gets quiet, but not the chill kind. More like the storm-brewing kind. Arms crossed, breathing hard through his nose, glaring at the guy like “Say one more thing, I dare you."

If you laugh too hard at someone else’s joke? He’ll blurt, “It wasn’t that funny,” under his breath and then pretend he didn’t say anything.

Will 100% insert himself into the conversation. “Oh, you like hiking? Yeah, she doesn’t even like the outdoors that much.” Sir??

He doesn't realize he’s being obvious until Mikasa or Armin elbow him under the table.

You’ll catch him brooding in the corner, jaw tense, running a hand through his hair a little too aggressively.

If someone dares to touch you (a hand on your arm, brushing hair from your face), he’s immediately stepping between you two with the fakest “Hey, everything good here?” you’ve ever heard.

Lowkey hopes you’ll notice. Highkey won’t admit he’s jealous unless you corner him.

When you finally do ask what his problem is? He just shrugs and mutters, “You can do better.” “Better than what?” “Better than him. Better than anyone but me.”

When you start dating -

Possessive af. Not in a creepy way, but in a wraps his arm around your waist the second someone looks at you too long kind of way.

Whispered-growled little lines like: “He’s looking at you again. Why’s he looking at you?” “He knows you’re mine, right?”

Glares at any guy who so much as thinks about flirting with you. Bonus: He’ll hold eye contact just long enough to make it uncomfortable, then smirk when they look away.

If he hears someone compliment you? He pulls you a little closer and says something like, “She hears that every day from me. You’re late, bro.”

The type to rest his hand on your thigh under the table during group hangouts—firm grip, slow strokes with his thumb—just to remind everyone around you exactly who you belong to.

Gets unreasonably sulky if someone makes you laugh too hard. “You didn’t laugh like that at my joke.” “Eren, your joke was about setting Reiner on fire.” “It was funny though.”

If he’s in a really possessive mood, he’ll kiss you just a little harder in front of people. Not over-the-top, just long enough to make the message very clear.

Might act extra clingy after—arms around your waist from behind, hand in your back pocket, pressing kisses to your temple like “yeah, she’s with me” is a full-time job.

But when you're alone? The jealousy fades and it’s just this soft, aching vulnerability. “You don’t...want anyone else, right?”

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[braunhamsteren]

Part 1 - Eren is an office worker

I've been working in the "office" for some time now, and I really wanted to think about what kind of employees these AOT guys would be. So far, only Eren. I will be very glad if someone likes it.

Eren is an employee who recently came to work, but has already had a fight with every department and employee. He does not adhere to the dress code; he is most often seen in black jeans and a plain T-shirt or hoodie. Less often, he wears a black shirt. No one ever knows what he's eating, because there's never a food container with his name on it in the shared fridge. However, he will always be happy to purchase products for his department somewhere else. More often, he communicates respectfully with colleagues, but sometimes… It can be very easy to inflame the anger and stubbornness of a young employee.

By the way, this stubbornness will encourage him to work overtime. If the task for a project turns out to be too difficult or bulky for a typical workday, he often stays up late, ordering energy drinks and snacks for himself. You are the only person in the office who got a job later than him, so he will be supportive and offer all possible support. Of course, he won't be able to protect you from the wrath of his superiors, but he'll be happy to invite you for coffee and openly discuss what he thinks is unfair treatment of you. He will also often invite you for a walk during your lunch break to criticize the decisions of colleagues. Members of the older generation often complain about his smoking habit, but unlike them, he never stays in the smoking room to gossip, and surprisingly, he doesn't smell like tobacco.

"I'm not conflicted, I'm just right. Often."

"If I hadn't said anything, we'd still be doing this shit the old—fashioned way."

"These deadlines are just a joke, right? Good… Where's my big coffee mug?" ties her hair into a bundle

"No, I'm not leaving until I'm done. It's obvious, isn't it?"

Eren can be annoying sometimes, but he commands respect. He doesn't fit into the system, but at the same time he proudly carries his "I" through all the office wars. To be honest, he's the only one who treats you with great understanding. With him, no project deadlines are scary.

"If they bother you, tell them it's my fault. I'm used to it, and looking at their displeased faces is my hobby"

"Why are you so sad? Come on, let's buy you a croissant"

One day you were sitting in a meeting room after another meeting with your superiors and customers — another failed deadline, although it wasn't your fault. The door opens abruptly without knocking — Eren is on the threshold, with two cups of coffee in his hands.

"Well, sufferer?", he puts a cappuccino cup in front of you with smiling foam emojis. "I heard you being torn apart. What the fuck…"

You can't help but grin: he's the only one who calls a spade a spade.

"You could have helped me", you grumble, but he just waves it off.

"So that what? You know they're idiots. I'd rather teach you how to keep your nerve cells in this job."

And here you are sitting on the fire escape (Eren hates the smoking room during lunch when employees from other departments gather there. He says, "It really stinks there now, but it's the smell of hypocrisy!"):

"Rule number 1. Listen to the boss, nodding, and then do it your own way. They value the result, not the process." "Rule number 2. Ignore all these passive-aggressive chats. Just set the reaction to “👍” and score. Let's break through!"

Suddenly he stops abruptly, noticing how you're staring at his jeans with a hole in the knee.

"Yes, the dress code is for those who don't know how to work. I can do that."

You ask why he's staying here at all if everything is so bad.

"Because someone needs to be shown that the rules are just someone's fantasy", Eren shrugs, smiling contentedly. "Well…I like having someone to protect."

He doesn't look in your direction, but you understand that this is the most sincere confession he is capable of. Over time, you start to be friends, Eren turned out to be a reliable person. Despite all his "tricks," his attitude to work is admirable. Once again, you've been sitting in the office late — not because the deadline is on, but because the boss scolded you for some nonsense in the morning, and now you're just staring at the monitor, pretending to be working. Suddenly, there is a light knock on the table from behind— it's Eren. He puts a plastic cup with an iced latte and your favorite mint syrup in front of you (it's adorable that he remembers, even though you only said it once) and a sandwich.

"Eat it! You look like the only thing you've eaten today is the boss's screams."

You can't help but grin. He's right.

"Thanks… But you're not just here at a late hour, are you? Is your project dragging on again?"

"Well, first of all, yes. The customer made a bunch of edits again. Secondly…" He plopped down on the chair next to you and took a flash drive out of his pocket. "I have something here."

You're getting nervous.

"What is it?"

"The presentation that our "beloved" boss has to watch tomorrow. I'm done with it…I'm not going to tell you, it's better to open it and see for yourself."

You open the file and almost choke on your coffee. On the third slide, instead of dry graphs, there is a meme with a sleeping cat and the inscription: "It's urgent! We must pretend that we are all working!"

"You… Are you serious?!"

"What about it? He's not reading anyway, he's just pretending. Let him have fun. It would not be superfluous for this harmful person to smile a couple of times."

You laugh, but then you realize:

"But if he finds out it's you?"

"Oh, he'll know it's me right away. But you know what the best part is?", Eren grins. "He can't fire me. Because I'm the only one who understands their newfangled security system."

You shake your head, but there's a slight elation inside you.

"You're not normal."

"Thank you", he takes a sip of his energy drink. "By the way, if hell starts tomorrow, just say you didn't know anything."

The next day, of course, the boss exploded with anger. But, as Eren predicted, it didn't go beyond the screams. And in the evening, he reappears at your table with coffee and a satisfied smile:

"Do you want to go to the cinema? I guarantee you popcorn and a good mood.", he put his hand on the arm of your chair.

A sincere smile appears on your face. Of course, you will agree, because it is impossible to refuse Eren.

[braunhamsteren]

Bergamot-flavoured kiss updated version Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader Summary: bergamot-flavoured kisses sitting in a closed tea shop on the hips of a postwar Levi. Just rewrote my sketch :D Postwar Levi is still my all-time favourite man. I want to kiss him so much

"You ordered bergamot tea last month, Levi," you grinned and rolled up the sleeves of your shirt to keep the fabric from getting wet. The workday was drawing to a close, and that meant it was time for a little cleaning. Wiping the clean cups with a dry cloth, you put them back in their place and looked questioningly at the man, waiting for an answer.

"It was peppermint. You should try a new one," Levi replied. He took his bergamot tea with the fingers of his left hand and headed for the table at the end of the room.

Levi's Tea Shop was a pretty well known place in Marley. It was a nice place to be. Inside there was an atmosphere of warm cosiness, created by a unique combination of aromas. The air was filled with fresh notes of green tea, subtle smells of black and white teas. To them were added spicy aromas of various additives: you could smell vanilla, jasmine, cardamom and refreshing mint. All these odours were intertwined into one, enveloping the guests from the first seconds.

There seemed to be not a single person on the mainland who didn't want to come here. But the seemingly endless visitors and the emotion of the work had its drawbacks. Levi's knee made it difficult for him to stay upright for long periods of time. Fortunately, your constant presence gave him incredible support.

At first, your relationship did not extend beyond work processes. After a while, however, casual touches and glances no longer felt like that. Levi was no stranger to the feeling of falling in love, but until a few months ago - when there was as much danger around as there were walls around Paradis, that's exactly what it had seemed like. Despite his principles of not getting attached to people, Levi surrendered to himself.

Your hearts seemed to catch fire, and the tea had nothing to do with it.

The setting sun cast soft, peachy rays across the room. You dimmed the lights and walked over to Levi, leaning over and kissing his forehead. Then, with a light laugh, you ruffled his dark hair. Even though you were the only person Levi would let touch his hair, he didn't really like the gesture. Sometimes he resembled a freshly washed cat and was against touching clean hair. "Hey," the man frowned.

Smiling, you were about to walk past Levi, but he abruptly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him. Instinctively, you placed your palms on his shoulders, interrupting the movement. "Your knee?"

"I don't care. Come here."

You wrapped your arms around Levi's neck and met his gaze. He seemed to draw your attention to him, and you couldn't look away even for a second. Something about his perfectly white eyes and scarred eyelid was so amazing and beautiful that you couldn't stop staring every time.

Noticing your gaze, Levi said with a touch of irony: "You're staring."

"Just enjoying it," you placed your palm on Levi's cheek, caressing the soft, perfectly shaven skin.

There was an intimacy in the air, emphasised by the warmth of your feelings. The slow strokes created a sense of deep connection and understanding.

There was something about such touches that still made Levi's heart skip a beat.

After the war, Levi was exhausted and depleted. The only thing he wanted was to forget everything, to disappear, to stop. Switching off the endless hospital machines and falling into eternal sleep seemed the right thing to do. Levi realised that he had done his duty, that his mission was over. He felt unnecessary, like an extra piece in a jigsaw puzzle, waiting to be replaced by the right, more appropriate one. Existence itself seemed like a meaningless burden.

This continued until a box of lollipops was in Levi's lap, and children whose lives had also been touched by Rumbling began to crowd around him. They surrounded him as if he were a jewel that could take their minds off the horrors of reality for a moment. To bring joy and hope to these children, to be a defence against the darkness around them, and to be the one to provide sweetness in a bitter reality - maybe that was Levi's destiny?

Maybe his destiny was to see you.

When you noticed the pensive expression on Levi's face, you kissed him on his cheekbone, where the scar had healed. Then again on the tip of his nose, his cheek, and his lower lip. Levi didn't like to discuss his condition, so, smiling in response to your caresses, he reached across the table with his healthy palm and picked up a cup of tea. "How do you like the new tea?" - you asked, taking the cup from his palm and setting it back down.

"It's more tart in flavour. I like it. You definitely should…"

When your lips touched, Levi didn't have time to finish his thought. In that instant, all his excitement seemed to dissipate. You barely had time to catch your breath before Levi pulled you harder against him. Your lips met again and again, gently, softly, lovingly. Before Levi could deepen the kiss, you pulled away and ran your thumb over his lower lip. "That's it?" - Levi grinned, putting his hands on your hips. "You're insatiable," you smirked and tilted your head slightly, biting your lip.

"I missed you."

"We'd been together all day."

"Did I mention I don't care?"

When your lips collided again, there was no room for anything else. Levi touched your skin, gently explored your waist and hips, and then ran his tongue along your bottom lip. It was so hot all around that it became impossible to concentrate on anything else but the touch. When your breath caught in your lungs, you pulled away from each other, breathing heavily. "Indeed, it's a little tart. Would you like to drink some more?"

[braunhamsteren]

She's a horny!

The way that in a very intimate moment of foreplay, Levi places his palm on your cheekbone, outlining your lower lip with his thumb >>>>>>>

[braunhamsteren]

Didn't you want to be horny?😔😔

Levi, who recently joined the scout corps, steals pieces of bread from the dining hall and hides them because he is afraid of going hungry.

[braunhamsteren]

it's a cry for a lack of love in my life, but I can still love him

The rain was pounding on the window in a steady rhythm, reflecting the frantic pounding of your heart. In a small, dimly lit room, Reiner's figure loomed against the faint light of the street lamps. He hasn't moved or said a word since you closed the door, locking you both in this enclosed space, in this intimate moment.

The air in the small motel room, which was usually filled with the smell of cleaning products and lacked comfort, now seemed to be charged with an undeniable tension. The man in the room was a friend, an enemy, a companion, and a rival. He was also a secret desire, a wild fantasy, and a nocturnal dream. He was everything.

You've come to return the book he lent you. Completely uninteresting to both of them for its original content, the tattered volume was the unifying moment that you could afford. The pages of the book were covered with messages and small drawings. A red thread stretched across all the pages, symbolizing both the ban and your connection. The exchange of books was not prohibited, it was acceptable. Everyone saw only two people who like to read. You've been dancing this slow, painful waltz of stolen glances and veiled conversations for months now.

Finally, he turned around, and there was a severity on his face that was both frightening and charming. His eyes, which usually shone with a mischievous gleam, now turned into dark pools, reflecting the confusion that was reflected in his body. A strong male body. He seemed perfect, and no matter how much you thought about it in the evenings, lying in bed or looking at him during the day, among other people, you still couldn't figure out what was special about him, but it was true! And it was something that drove you crazy with the desire to snuggle up to each other, touch each other, feel the warmth.

-I've been waiting, - he breathed, his voice as hoarse as the rasp of an old door lock. Two words spoken with such force that they seemed like a physical touch.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat becoming a painful barrier.

-I shouldn't be here, - you whispered, the words barely audible. It was a lie. Every cell in your being was screaming for you to close the distance between you and fulfill all those thoughts that were bustling and buzzing in your head like a swarm of bees. Impossible.

He took a step forward, then another, slowly closing the distance between the two of them. There was a sense of tension and uncertainty in every movement, as if he were battling an invisible force that held him back. The air felt thick and heavy, almost suffocating. Why was he always so calm and confident? Why did he seem so unaffected by the desperate desire that consumed you? And if that were true, then it would be incredibly unfair. You couldn't possibly be so wrong about your feelings.

-As always, - he said sarcastically, unexpectedly too loudly for the atmosphere in the room right now. - I know, - he said in a hoarse whisper that sent shivers down my spine. I know you shouldn't do this... We shouldn't. But we do it every time, right? - His words sounded so strange, as if they were tinged with judgment. It can't be true! He can't reject your meetings, your secret messages, anything special that's happened between you two.

Reiner stopped a few inches away from you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, see the golden sparkles in his eyes. The scent of his cologne, a mixture of woody smoke and something truly masculine, aroused desire. It was so deep and painful that your whole body ached. You wanted to cling to him so hard, so desperately, so that he would understand what you were feeling. But it's impossible.

He held out his hand, and his palm hovered by your cheek, almost touching it. "Idiot" - you thought to yourself. The waiting was excruciating, the burning pain spread throughout his body. "Is he kidding me?"

-But I can't... - I can't and don't want to be away from you. - The confession hung in the air, harsh and desperate.

You closed your eyes, and your heart pounded against your ribs. Both of you knew the consequences: shame, betrayal, condemnation, and death - everything was short and clear, dry and painful. How amazing that you, both reasonable people, had decided to do this! You had followed the rules all your life, obeyed orders, and relied on the system to make your lives better. Wouldn't it have been easier? Wouldn't that have been the right thing to do? And all the while, you were both putting yourselves at great risk, throwing away everything that had been before for the sake of fleeting, ghostly meetings in a musty, rented room. Such joyful moments are nearby. But the thought of having to turn away, of never knowing his touch, was unbearable agony. An unpleasant shudder ran through his entire body.

Slowly, hesitantly, she clung to his hand, and the soft warmth of his skin on your cheek seemed to send an electric shock through you. His fingers touched the line of your chin, gently, as if you were the fragile bud of a young flower.

-Reiner, - you whispered, and his name sounded both like a request and an order. For some reason, even his name had a hint of taboo, too personal, too special. Impossible.

He lowered his head, and his warm breath touched your temple. - Please. Tell me to stop, - he sucked in air through his teeth, pronouncing each word in a trembling voice, as if he were standing on nails right now. -Tell me, and I'll stop. Don't let me have too much.

The rain intensified, drumming on the roof, creating a secluded, safe world for you, a bubble of forbidden desire in which you could forget at least for a moment about what was happening outside. You desperately wanted to scream, beg him to hug, kiss, erase boundaries, trample on all prohibitions and laugh in the face of this hateful word "impossible". But all you could do was stand there, trembling, caught between the promise of sweet pleasure and the crushing weight of reality.

You could feel Reiner's gaze burning through your body. Seeking, pleading, thirsty. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a mirror, which shows your true desires. The silence dragged on, heavy and viscous with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

Finally, your body began to obey you again, and you barely approached him, lowering your eyes, almost feeling his stubble on your cheek. You were dangerously close, yet so close to what you wanted. And again, that moment, that connection between your two souls was the beginning, becoming everything for you. The answer was there, flashing in the depths of your mind, an undeniable truth reflected in his eyes.

You didn't have to say a word. Silence was the best answer. In this silence, with the shared understanding of your impossible love, Reiner finally crossed the chasm. The rain was raging outside, reflecting the storm raging inside as the two bodies succumbed to an intoxicating, forbidden attraction that threatened to engulf them both. The outside world could wait or burn to the ground. Right now, all that mattered was this moment. Every breath was a tangible connection that defied reason and logic.

Maybe I'll continue, maybe I won't…But I know for sure that I will continue to love Reiner Braun.

[braunhamsteren]

Oh, that horny tea... 🥵

bergamot-flavoured kiss postwar!Levi Ackerman and y/n

"You ordered tea with bergamot last month, Levi," you chuckled, closing the curtains in the tea room. The working day came to an end — the sun was starting to set over the horizon, turning the sky a pleasant peach color.

"He was with an orange, brat. You need to try a new one," Levi said, relaxing on the couch in the corner.

Levi's Tea Shop was quite a famous place in Marley. And who wouldn't like to taste tea from the hero himself, who saved the people from the Trembling of the Earth? But the seemingly endless visitors and emotions from work had their drawbacks. Levi's knee did not allow him to stay in a standing position for so long, but fortunately, you were always with him.

At first, your relationship didn't go beyond the tea. However, after a while, casual touches and glances stopped seeming like that. Goosebumps, rapid pulse and happy smiles from the fact that this person is just next to you … your hearts seemed to catch fire, and the tea had nothing to do with it.

You dimmed the lights and came up behind him, gently kissing the top of his head. A second later, you giggled and ruffled Levi's dark hair. He rolled his eyes in displeasure (rather playfully). And even though you were the only one Levi allowed to touch his hair, he didn't really like that gesture. Sometimes Levi resembled a cat who had just washed his face and was against being touched with clean fur.

"And this is for the brat."

You smiled and walked past Levi when he grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you stopped his movements.

"Your knee?"

"I don't care, come here."

Once on Levi's hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. There was something about the absolutely white eye that was so amazing and beautiful that you couldn't stop looking.

"You're staring."

"Just admiring,— you gently placed your palm on Levi's cheek, stroking the soft skin.

Something about such touches still made Levi's heart skip a beat.

When the war ended, all Levi wanted to do was leave everything and not think "what's next?" It seemed like the right decision to turn off the endless hospital machines and fall asleep forever. He had done everything that was required of him in this life. It's like an excess puzzle in a box, waiting for the right one to be put in its place.

This continued until a box of lollipops appeared on Levi's lap, and children whose lives were also affected by the war began to crowd around. To bring light into hearts, to protect from darkness, and to be the one who gives sweetness in bitter reality—maybe that was his purpose?

Maybe his purpose was to see you one day?

Noticing Levi's thoughtful look, you kissed him on the cheekbone, where the already healed scar was. Then again — on the cheek, on the upper lip and neck. Levi didn't like to talk about his well-being, so he couldn't help but smile at your gestures, reaching for the table with his good palm and picking up a cup of tea.

"And how do you like the new tea?" You asked, taking the cup from his palm and putting it back in its place.

"More tart taste. I like. You definitely should…"

When your lips touched, Levi didn't have time to finish. At that moment, everything that bothered him seemed to disappear. You barely had time to breathe before Levi pulled you closer. Lips pressed against each other, once, twice, again… You both missed that feeling. Before Levi could deepen the kiss, you opened your eyes, running your thumb over his lower lip.

"Is that all?" Levi chuckled, putting his hands on your hips.

"And you're insatiable,"— you smirked, biting your lip.

When your lips collided again, there was no room for any thoughts at all. Running his hands along your sides, touching your chest, waist, hips, Levi ran his tongue over your lower lip. It was too hot to focus on anything other than the feel of skin on skin.

When the breath caught in your lungs, you pulled back, breathing heavily.

— Indeed, it is a little tart. Would you like to drink some more?

Okay, I wrote this in one fucking hour. maybe I'll get it in order at some point. i just have too many thoughts of Levi in my head. i fucking love him so much

[braunhamsteren]

If you want to know my opinion, Eren Jaeger...😡

I'm still pissed as hell at you! How the heck did you think you could just die on me like that?😡

I love you, but there's no way I'll ever forgive you for that...

Why should I waste my time reading all that fluff fanfiction trying to make myself think that you're out there somewhere being happy? Genocide? The hero of the island? Saving the world? Really? First he made me fall in love with him, and then he took it and died

DOLT😡

[braunhamsteren]

My boy did not see his mother die, he did not have to commit genocide and alienate his friends...💔😔

I want to ruffle his hair and stroke his cheeks!🤭🤗

(he's such a cute littlebro)

[braunhamsteren]

my little boooooy😭😭😭❤️

HES LIKE A WET CAT IN THE RAIN JIST LOOK AT HIM AND HIS BIG EYES AND POUTY FROWN LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN TO ME

[braunhamsteren]

I'll just leave it here... My favorite boys! 🥺❤️🥺✨🥺

[braunhamsteren]

If you meet this wonderful boy, please tell him how much I love him! With all my heart!

[braunhamsteren]

This is truly magnificent!✨🥹🥹