I love titan's armored attack

These shoulders look perfect for throwing your legs over! To be pushed onto the bed by Reiner's strong body and have another orgasm...

"Connie Springer" you read, looking into his amused eyes as he sat across from you. This was the seventh interview, and you were getting tired of turning away young professionals simply because your bosses were looking for someone with lots of experience. For some reason, they didn't want to hire an adult with lots of experience, but hiring a young person with little experience seemed risky. You thought this wasn't a good idea, because you were still considered a young professional, but you had been given a chance 5 years ago and now you were the head of the department.

In this young guy with short hair... There was something like that. He looked like a ticking time bomb in a half-dead office, where everyone just hated their lives, and Connie was on fire. He seemed to be doing his best not to explode from an overabundance of energy right now. (honestly, you wouldn't mind if this place blew up.) Connie was a little late for the meeting, apologized a million times, bumped into you at the door, elbowed you, and apologized a million more times. You usually kept the face of a leader, asked dry questions and reacted just as dryly to the answers, but for the last 10 minutes it was difficult for you to restrain a smile and keep a serious expression on your face. "Tell me about yourself, Connie. What do you do in your daily life-hobbies, favorite activities?" in the end, you decided to continue asking basic questions because you had to fill in all the items in the candidate's report. 

"Well, to be honest, miss, I love anything that moves!" Well, in a good way. I run, skateboard, and play basketball in the yard... I also recently started learning how to juggle! So far, only three balls have been obtained, and they are constantly flying in the wrong direction. 

He gestures erratically, imitating the flight of balls, and almost hits your coffee mug. 

"Oh, I'm sorry! Ahem... " He became very serious in a second and straightening the collar of his shirt added:

"But to be honest... I just can't sit still. It seems to me that any business can be done faster, more interesting, more energetically! Even filling out reports."

Connie looks at you defiantly, as if she expects you to call it naive.

"I know that I have little experience, but I have... Enthusiasm! And I'm ready to learn. Very ready! I could sit here pretending that I'm not me and lie that I'm super collected and the most responsible person on the planet, but I'm telling it like it is...And then it's up to you, miss."

He leans back in his chair, slightly out of breath, and looks at you expectantly, as if his whole life depends on your answer. You ended this interview sweetly by responding, "We'll review your resume and call you back," but in your head you were already planning a conversation with your boss about hiring Connie. It was going to be a difficult conversation. 

A couple of weeks later, when you came to work, you saw Connie at his workplace. The boss resisted, but your arguments and arguments turned out to be stronger. Springer (this word will now be heard in your office every minute) has been hired, he has become part of your department. 

"Good morning, Connie. Have you been shown the office yet? Everything okay? you walked past his desk towards your office with a cup of coffee in your hands.

"GOOD MORNING!  His voice sounded too loud for a quiet morning office. Connie jumped up from his chair, narrowly missing the next table. "They showed me everything, miss. Even where the toilet is located and how the coffee maker works! Although, to be honest, I like cocoa more." He was talking fast, his eyes were burning, all his attention was focused on you, or so it seemed. 

"It's okay" you nodded cautiously, trying to hide a smile and walking away towards your office. "If you have any questions, my office is nearby."

"Oh, thank you!"  He sat down, but immediately looked out of the monitor again.  "Can I ask you a question now?"

You stopped, turning to face him. Silence reigned in the office, sleepy and tired colleagues watched the newcomer with curiosity. 

"This report..."  Connie pointed at the screen. "It can be automated! While I was waiting, I looked at the template - half of the actions are repeated there. I can write a program, it will save six hours a week!"

Someone chuckled skeptically in the corner. Connie wasn't embarrassed.

"Seriously! I'm pretty sure it will work!"  After finishing his sentence, he lowered his eyes, waiting for your reaction. 

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to keep a professional expression on your face.

"Okay, Connie. Prepare a presentation of your idea. But first, get familiar with the current processes, okay?"

"Of course!"  He was beaming like he'd been promoted.  "I'll study everything!"

And it was from this moment that your fun life in the office began. It's worth noting that Connie worked well, the results were always impressive, and that's exactly what you reminded the entire management at meetings with your superiors when you were once again called out about Springer's dismissal. 

Not to say that you were a harsh boss, but tired and tortured people without a drop of joy in life were difficult to manage calmly, so you often had to resort to fines, explanatory and "debriefing" in raised tones. But with the arrival of Connie (and all the chaos that was around him), first of all, to your own surprise, you stopped worrying and being nervous at all, although there were many reasons. Connie couldn't be controlled. Impossible. After all, when the processes that had been following the same pattern for years suddenly changed by someone, there was a reason for nerves. But not with him.

Over the next year and a half, Connie really grew as a specialist (documents began to fly around the office many times less, and rags for spilled coffee increasingly remained dry). But nevertheless, he brought a little bit of life to the department. More and more often, sitting in your office, you could hear laughter from the common room and, of course, you could hear Springer's voice. His colleagues didn't like him at first, but he quickly joined the team with his natural charm. And the authorities have stopped writing you official letters about the new recruitment of employees in his place. Connie even went on several business trips, where he represented your department and you directly - it bore fruit. Maybe he's become a little calmer, or maybe it's you all around who have become much more alive. 

One day mysterious stickers with motivational messages began to appear in the office: "You're the best!", "Take a break!", "You performed great today." The staff searched for the author for a long time, until they caught Connie with a roll of stickers in her hands. It turned out that he was inspired by the psychology course and decided to "increase the level of support in the team." The stickers were not removed, and some colleagues secretly continued to leave them on each other's monitors. Noticing this, Connie stopped putting up stickers at his colleagues' workplaces. Except yours. 

Monday morning. You came to the office and saw a bright yellow sticker on the monitor.

"Your smile turns on the sun on a cloudy day. Have a good week!"

There was a meeting in the evening where the management made big bets, but you were in for a failure - the contract was not signed. When I returned to the office to get my things, there was a note on the keyboard: 

"You can handle anything. I believe it even when you doubt it yourself."

You even found a separate box for these stickers. Besides them, there were many different moments. For example, when everyone is watching a presentation, he looks at you. He catches your reaction, seeks approval. And if you look into his eyes, he quickly looks away, but the corners of his lips twitch. On business trips, in a taxi or at the airport, in those moments when the boundaries of "boss-subordinate" are a little blurred, his gaze becomes softer and longer. He looks at you with admiration when you laugh, tries to look away so as not to seem intrusive, but continues to talk nonsense in order to make you laugh again, usually so serious and collected.

"You held the meeting so confidently today... I have someone to learn from."  

"Did someone leave a sticker again? Probably your secret admirer... It's strange, but the handwriting is like mine." he looks you straight in the eye and smiles. 

At a summer corporate party, you were molested by an intoxicated colleague from a related department. Before you could react, Connie was between you, standing close to the drunken accountant, saying with a cold smile: 

"It seems your taxi has already arrived. Right now."

His tone left no objections. He later apologized for being harsh, but it was clear in his eyes: "I would do it again."

"You look unusual today. In a good way! In the sense... generally always in a good way." *hurriedly leaves, muttering something under his breath*

You could probably even admit to yourself that you spend too much time in the office in the evenings thinking "what if...", but that would be a violation of ethics and your principles.  Connie never crossed the line, everything was within the framework of cute gestures, so there was no reason to think about it seriously. You both liked this "special bond," at least if you weren't mistaken about his liking. 

At the meeting, someone from a related department allows himself to sharply criticize you. Before you can answer, Connie, ignoring the chain of command, coldly remarks: 

"Before criticizing, it is worth understanding the issue. I can clarify the details so that there is no misunderstanding."

There is silence in the office.

On a work trip, when you were shivering from the cold on the platform, he silently took off his jacket and threw it over your shoulders. 

"Thanks, but don't" but he'll just grin: 

"Don't  this is when the boss gets sick and breaks all deadlines."  His hands linger on your shoulders for a second, and he feels you freeze. 

In the spring, your company signed a major contract, and this event coincided with the CEO's birthday. The auditorium was full of people, but the sounds of voices merged into a steady hum that reverberated with a pleasant vibration in the chest. The festive buffet was that rare event when subordination melted like ice in whiskey glasses. You were standing at a high table, sipping cool wine and watching Connie chatting casually with a group of colleagues. He brazenly caught your eye across the room, lingering for a second longer than the situation required. 

And so he walked towards you, confidently making his way through the crowd. He had two full glasses in his hands.

"Miss" his voice sounded low, but it echoed loudly somewhere under your ribs. "Will you have a drink with me? For the birthday boy, of course."

His smile was frankly seductive. He held out the glass, and his fingers lightly touched yours. 

"Thank you, Connie" your voice sounded a little hoarse. You clinked glasses. His gaze never left your lips.

"You're incredible today," he said, taking a sip of wine. He was standing too close. So close that you could feel the light, fresh scent of perfume coming from him. "It's a dress... It should be included in the list of something prohibited. It completely prevents me from focusing on anything else."

"Connie..." you said cautiously, but there was no usual severity in your voice. Only a slight hoarseness that betrayed excitement. 

"Yes, yes, "rules", "etiquette", "subordination"...I know I shouldn't. I know all the reasons... but it's so hard for me to remember them now."

He paused, smiling at the floor.

"Tell me to leave," he leaned in so close that his lips were inches from your ear. His whisper was hot and wet. "Tell me, and I'll return to my role as a stupid junior analyst. Right now."

You felt the warmth of his body, saw the pulse in his neck. Your hand reached out to push him away, but instead it rested on his forearm. The muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt tensed.

"What do you think about when you look at me in the office?  I can't help but imagine what it would be like to touch you." he whispered. 

Your heart started pounding in your throat. There was fire in his eyes, bold and direct. He was drunk, but there was no lie in his words, only the sincere truth.

"Connie, we can't." you gasped, but you didn't pull away.

"Why?" his hand slid along your side, his palm rested on your waist, and everything inside froze. "Because it's 'wrong'?" Or is it because you're afraid that once I start, I won't be able to stop?"

His lips were inches from yours. You felt his warmth, his desire, and everything inside you was tied into one tight knot, ready to untie at any second. It was a moment when you could cross the line, and maybe the world would turn upside down.

Connie saw a fleeting weakness in your gaze. His hand trembled, and he licked his suddenly dry lips.

"God!" he whispered with a sudden hoarseness. "I'm going to snap."

It sounded like a confession. And as a verdict.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, a sensible bell rang, even a bell. You place your hand on his chest, gently but firmly.

"Because I want you to come to work tomorrow morning and look at me without shame," you whispered. "And so that I can look at you without regret. My principles are stronger..." You stopped in mid-sentence. "... stronger than my feelings."

He froze, his breath coming in short gasps. The muscles in his face tensed as if he was fighting with himself. Finally, he took a step back, and the space between you was filled with cool air again.

"Damn,"  he swore softly, running a hand over his face. "You're always right. Sometimes it's even infuriating..."

The temptation was overwhelming. You saw his gaze-hot, full of adoration and defiance. You felt a magnetic pull. The whole hall, with its noise and laughter, was plunged into a fog. It's just Connie, the music, and your racing heart.

You looked up at him, and your lips formed a faint smile of their own accord.

"You're drunk, Connie."

"Disgusting," he agreed. "But not from alcohol."

He took another step back, his gaze becoming clearer.

"I am... I think I'll go. I can still do it."

You nodded, unable to speak. He turned around and walked away, leaving you at the window with a sense of relief mixed with bitter regret.

The next morning, he brought coffee to your office, put it on the table, and left without saying a word. There was a sticker on the lid of the cup: "Sorry about yesterday. I'll get back to working hard." 

Several more months of stable "instability" in the relationship with Springer have passed, all processes and communication have returned to normal. You both just pretended that nothing had happened at the buffet. They began to look at each other less often. You continued to strenuously deny your feelings, and Connie immersed himself in his work. He really tried, there was no trace of his former self - a minimum of mistakes, he did everything on time, responsibly and in a collected manner. That's why you weren't surprised when you read the letter from the HR department about his transfer to a higher position. To another department. It was the right thing to do. Logically. He deserved it. You wrote him excellent recommendations yourself. But somewhere deep down, you felt a pang of regret. In the evening of the same day, you didn't go home on time, but locked yourself in your office, took off your shoes and lay down on the sofa, sinking into the evening silence and thinking about Connie, about everything. Someone knocked on the door, and you slowly got up from the couch.

The door opened, and you appeared on the threshold, without heels and without a strict hairstyle, which no one has ever seen you in the office. Connie was standing in the doorway of his office, holding a cardboard box with things that were on his former desk.

For a moment, silence hung in the hallway, thick and ringing. His gaze slid over your bare feet, over your disheveled hair, lingered on tired eyes and something twitched in them. All his new, hard-won composure cracked.

He didn't leave. He stood and watched.

You disappeared into the office, gesturing for him to enter, without knowing why. 

"Congratulations on your promotion. You deserve it," you said with a smile on your face, walking over to the window. Connie stayed behind you. You didn't want to look him in the eye, so you decided to watch the cars scurrying back and forth outside, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Thank you," he whispered, and his breath touched your neck. In the glass of the window, in the dark mirror of the night city, your reflection met his gaze. And suddenly, the corners of his lips twitched in that long forgotten, mischievous grin. The one he had in the very first days, before all this restraint and forced distance.

"Do you know what exactly?"  His voice had regained those cocky, almost insolent notes that used to give you goosebumps.

"For being barefoot right now. And your hair is disheveled. And you're not looking at me like a boss looking at a subordinate, but like a woman looking at a man who's about to do something very, very unreasonable, and you know it..."  He added in a whisper. 

"Maybe he'll at least try...For the last time..." These words were meant to express insecurity, but there was more guile in them. 

He didn't touch you. Not immediately. His hands rested on the windowsill on either side of you, locking in the space between him and the glass. He was the Connie again, the one who wasn't afraid to say what he thought.

"A year and a half," he breathed, and his reflection in the window smiled, while yours froze. "I've been imagining this moment for a year and a half. Only in my fantasies you weren't so sad."

You felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind, his breath on the back of your neck, and a great desire for more. 

You sighed heavily and said softly:

"You have 30 seconds to come up with a plan for tonight and the weekend." you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Thirty seconds?"  He snorted, and his lips brushed your temple. "Miss, you're becoming a real planning tyrant. I remember how you talked to me for hours about time management..."

The very next second, he forcibly dragged you out of the office to the elevator, without even taking a box of things.:

"Consider that I have already ordered cocoa, coffee and pizza for us. To the address of my apartment, all that remains is to carry you to my car, otherwise you miss forgot your shoes in the office." With a satisfied smile, he said, pressing the button for the 1st floor, and as soon as the elevator doors closed, he gently took your head and pressed it against the elevator wall in a kiss. 

Connie continued to hold your face with one hand, preventing you from pulling away, while the other slid from your waist to your back, pressing you so tightly against him that the folds of your dress dented into his trousers. You felt the tension of every muscle in his back under your fingers, his abs pressing against you. He bent lower, changing the angle, and his tongue confidently slid between your lips, demanding more.

You felt his body pressing against you with all his weight, from the top of his head to his knees. The stiff strap of his trousers rested on your hip, and your bare feet slipped on his polished shoes. Your breath caught in your throat and your ears started ringing. You broke away for a second to take a breath of air, and without opening your eyes, he moved to your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses down to your collarbone. His teeth grazed your skin slightly, making you flinch and grab onto his shoulders.

"Connie..." you gasped, and your voice sounded strange, hoarse and broken.

The elevator stopped with a soft thud.

"First floor," an electronic voice piped up.

Connie slowly, with obvious reluctance, finished the kiss. He didn't pull away, he just stopped moving, his lips still touching yours. The elevator doors hissed open.  Connie still moved away from you, but did not let go, continuing to hold you by the waist. He exhaled, tried to smooth his tousled hair and yours, his breathing was still labored.

He quickly ran a hand over his face, trying to regain some of his seriousness. It was funny and charming.

"Plan A is in action. Cocoa, coffee, pizza, and you are all at my place."

for some reason, Connie turned out to be the most harmful, but there's nothing i can do about it...i saw him like this, let him be like this. although i will still think that it could have been done bEtTeR....fuck, okey

Part 1 Eren "office boy"

Part 2 Levi "office boy"

Part 3 Armin "office boy"

Part 4 Jean "office boy"

Reiner Braun is the "old man" of your office. It seemed that everything was based on him. If something doesn't go well - Reiner, office supply - Reiner, you need to decide where to put a new employee in an already filled office, Reiner again. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Although he had his own small department that he was responsible for, he was not the boss-boss. You wouldn't have seen him at all if you hadn't started talking to the staff from his office. Reiner always talks on the phone or wears headphones. He rarely attends various events and corporate parties, "he is an introvert", his deputy from the department tells you. His staff often talked about him, and so did everyone in the office.  He was an attractive young man with a good figure and a sense of humor, perhaps sometimes it was peculiar, but it was part of his personal charisma.

After working with him for a couple of years, you didn't even perceive him as a colleague, it seemed that he was about to quit, as if nothing kept him here at all, but he kept everything here.

When asked if he was thinking about quitting:

"I think so. Every Monday. And then I remember that we have a purchase of new equipment, and who besides me will sort out these three invoices?" 

Wearing headphones, talking to someone on the phone, walking slowly down the hallway:

"I know, there is an agreement. If you have any questions, tell them that everything has been agreed."

Reiner quickly looked into your office, just opening the door:

"Your chair is on its way. He'll be here by noon. If it arrives unassembled, come to my department. I'll handle it."

He looks at the office plan after the renovation of the main conference hall:

"We'll put a table here. The one in the corner is free. Where the cactus is. We'll move the cactus."

He was a nice guy, with an aura of caring and protection, and there weren't even any rumors about him. His personal life remained a personal life, even after so many years of working in one place. It was admirable. 

"I don't go to corporate parties. I went once, and I got promoted. I'm not taking any more risks" 

To the question "How do you manage everything?":

"I cloned myself at a corporate party in 2015."

But half a year ago, you decided to enroll in a new gym to keep yourself in shape from working in the office. And what was your surprise (although it was logical, looking at his form) when you saw Reiner there. But that's half the point...After about a week of your classes, he was the first to initiate small dialogues between you, but they looked like you were just strangers. "Maybe he didn't recognize me..." you thought.

__________________

You were stretching next to his bench. He saw you in the mirror: 

"Am I bothering you?"

"No, no, it's fine"

Adjusts the barbell:

"Okey. Then don't watch me fail this approach. For your own peace of mind."

__________________

You've been training on a new simulator, but the trainer has gone somewhere, and you've tried to set it up yourself.

"There's a lock here. Leftward. Like that. " Reiner appears out of nowhere and turns on the simulator with one deft movement. 

"Thank you!  Cleverly..."

"You're welcome. Good luck."

__________________

He stops at the reception while you fill out a subscription renewal form:

"You know, you really remind me of my colleague."

"Really?" Is she pleasant?"

“I do not know. We didn't talk much."

"That's strange. You seem sociable."

"Only here. I have a different role in the gym. "

His behavior has not changed at work either.  Conversations in the gym have become more friendly and frequent. He laughed more often there, and he obviously had friends here. They and Reiner often discussed their plans after the gym or how they spent the weekend. Watching all this, you involuntarily catch yourself thinking: "Maybe they are very similar, or this is his brother..."

__________________

You're doing an exercise on a bench when Reiner and two of his friends walk by. One of them shows something on his phone, and Reiner laughs openly, loudly, which is not at all like his restrained smirk in the office. His gaze slides across the room and meets yours. Without stopping laughing, he separates from the group and approaches you.

"You keep your posture right. For a beginner, this is not bad at all." He said, still smiling slightly."

"Thanks. And I see you have a whole interest club here."

He nods towards his friends.

"Yes, this is my survival group. Saving each other from boring cardio sessions. And the one in blue is our official meme supplier. Without him, training sessions would be twice as long and three times as boring."

"You're completely different... it's not the same as in the office."

The guy shrugs his shoulders, a cheerful twinkle in his eyes.

"At work, I'm responsible for office equipment, but here I'm responsible for the mood. "

He turns to his friends, who are motioning him to the counters, and, already walking away, throws over his shoulder:

"By the way, if you decide to try Romanian draft, warn me. Insuring newbies is one of my unofficial duties."

__________________

After a couple of training sessions. You cross paths at the kettlebell rack. He looks at you with a thoughtful smile.

"You know, I've been thinking... You've been walking for a month now. And she never once asked me why I pretended I didn't know you.

"I decided not to spoil the game for you. It seemed that way to you... more convenient."

"In the office, I'm a "hard worker Reiner". Here...I'm just Reiner. And I like that there is someone here who knows both of these versions. Is it weird?"

"A little. But... nice."

"Then we'll make a deal. No office themes here. Just iron, bad jokes, and talking about nothing. Do you agree?"

"Of course."

__________________

After a while, Reiner started being more talkative with you at work. He talked about the frequent breakdowns of the office, about his hobbies besides the gym, about where to write if the computer does not pull a new program that you all were forced to master. It was unusual and unusual for both of you at first, it was obvious that he was shy, but the chemistry between you created a pleasant and inviting atmosphere.

You met at the coffee machine. A few seconds of awkward silence.

"And so... what do colleagues usually talk about at the coffee machine? About the weather? About traffic jams?"

You smiled:

"They talk about how strange it is that they see each other at the gym, but at work they pretend to be strangers. Oh."

He looks at the floor, hiding a smile:

"Yes, I'm sorry. It was... foolishly. I just liked that there is a place where we are not official representatives of the technical and accounting departments. Where you don't look at me, expecting me to solve some problem."

"And who are we there?"

Reiner looks up at you, and there's warmth in his eyes:

"Two people who are just flexing their muscles. And... maybe they're a little friends."

__________________

A week later, when you're at work, you walk past his department and see him calmly picking at the system unit with a screwdriver and grumbling to himself.

"I told them not to put the server next to the window. Said. Now we have a family of dust bunnies and one very unhappy graphics card."

"You're not an IT guy, well...according to the documents."

Finally he looks at you, the corner of his mouth twitches:

"According to the documents, I am an "operational management specialist". In fact, I'm the one who has a screwdriver and the desire for everything to just work. Well, you know... Someone has to."  He put down the screwdriver. "Speaking of rescue. If your computer starts to slow down because of the new software, do not write to tech support. They will send you instructions of 200 steps. You'd better write... well... to me. I him... I'll set it up.

He looks away, concentrating on wiping his hands on a napkin.

__________________

These conversations are filled with eloquent pauses, casual and quickly caught glances, a slight embarrassment that melts as soon as you are alone. Reiner starts looking for your company - he "accidentally" finds himself at the coffee machine at the same time, "forgets" the documents on your desk so that there is an excuse to return.

The office announces another corporate event in honor of the company's birthday. It was decided to spend it in a cottage outside the city. This was the reason for your decision to skip this corporate event, but you have not yet voted in the chat with the discussion of the holiday, deciding to postpone it until tomorrow. And now you were already changing clothes for training, imperceptibly waiting for a meeting with Reiner and your conversations. 

The air here was completely different from the office, it was filled with the clang of iron and rhythmic music. You've finished your approach and notice a familiar figure at the dumbbell racks. Reiner seems to have just arrived - droplets of water from washing glisten on his forehead, his hair is slightly disheveled.

He catches your eye and nods briefly, the corner of his lips twitching slightly in the beginnings of a smile. You respond in kind, and at that moment, the phone in your pants pocket vibrates again - probably another chat message discussing the corporate event.

You go to the water bottle, take a sip, and suddenly you hear his low, calm voice behind you:

"Is something bothering you? You seem distant today. Stronger than usual."

You turn around. He stands leaning against the door frame, his gaze attentive and... understanding.

"Just like that," you wave it off. "A corporate party. I can't decide whether to go or not."

His eyebrows rise slightly.

"I thought you were always in favor. You did a great job kayaking last time...I saw... a photo."

You can't help but smile, it seemed like no one was watching these corporate photos.

"This time it's more complicated. Cottage outside the city. Then the night, the taxi, the general chaos... I'm not sure I'm ready."

Reiner nods silently, his gaze becoming serious.

"I understand. A large crowd, the need to be "positive"… It's exhausting."

He pauses, as if weighing something, and then speaks more quietly, almost confidentially:

"You know… I'm not a big fan of such events either. But this time... I'm thinking of going."

You look at him with genuine surprise.

"Really? But you're…"

"I know," he interrupts, and a light flashes in his eyes. "Reiner doesn't go to corporate parties." But perhaps there are exceptions. If you know that there will be someone... adequate."

He doesn't look directly at you, studying the label on his water bottle, but the tension in the air between you becomes almost palpable.

"Maybe..." he starts and stops, then looks up at you anyway, "... maybe then we can go together?"

You freeze for a second. It was unexpected. He, who usually avoided corporate parties like fire.

"What about your "no risk" rule?"

Reiner shrugs, still looking at the simulator:

"The rules sometimes need to be reviewed. Especially if..." He turns around, and his gaze becomes direct, a little uncertain, but warm. "...if there is someone there with whom you can sit quietly on the terrace, and not participate in drunken contests. Let's just say I'm not voting for a corporate event, but for the opportunity to spend time... in good company."

"A terrace ...Is the view good there?"

Suddenly the thought of a corporate party doesn't seem so terrible anymore:

"They claim that the landscape here is excellent. And if we're lucky, it'll be quiet. So... Think about it."

You smile as you get off the simulator:

"Okay. Maybe I'll check in that chat after all."

__________________

Saturday's corporate party was a really pleasant pastime. After half an hour of "obligatory" small talk with your superiors and colleagues, you and Reiner go out on the terrace to admire the picturesque sunset. The conversation is about everything and nothing, you laugh a lot, especially Reiner. If anyone saw him now, they would probably call a meeting about it.

The air on the terrace was cool and fresh, smelling of mown grass and evening dampness. After the stuffy cottage filled with loud music and even louder voices, it was quiet and peaceful here. You were sitting on a wide wooden railing, swinging glasses of red wine. The golden-pink colors of the sunset slowly descended lower on your faces.

Reiner turns the glass in his hands, looking at it.

"You know, I've always believed that the main sign of a good corporate event is the opportunity to escape from it without talking to the boss. But today it's just a great event."

"Mission accomplished?"

"So far, yes." Reiner turns to you, lightly touching your shoulder with his shoulder. The touch gives them both goosebumps. "Although, perhaps, everything is just beginning."

He says it softly, almost in a whisper, and his words are drowned out by the surrounding sounds of nature. 

"I didn't think you could laugh so much. Are you at work... completely different."

"Yes. There I am "Mr. Fix Everything." And here..." he takes a sip of wine, thoughtfully watching the rays of the sun disappear more and more below the horizon "...here, it seems, I can be just a person. Especially when this person is in good company."

His hand is on the railing between you. You involuntarily lower your palm next to it, and the distance between your little fingers is no more than a centimeter. He notices this, the corners of his lips twitching in a barely perceptible smile.

You look away at the forest, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks. When you decide to look at him again, you find his gaze intense, studying, full of quiet curiosity. 

He leans a little closer, and his gaze slides over your face, lingering on your eyes, on your lips. The noise of the party comes from the cottage like a distant, unimportant hum.

The silence hung between you, thick, sweet, and unsettling, like the air before a thunderstorm. His gaze, heavy and soft at the same time, seemed to touch every feature of your face, as if trying to capture this moment.

Suddenly, he exhaled softly, almost with relief:

"I think I'm making an official mistake."

Your voice is slightly trembling, betraying a slight excitement:

"A mistake?"

"I'm blurring the line between personal and professional. And... I don't regret a bit."

He didn't say anything else. You didn't ask. He just shortened the tiny distance that was between you. The kiss was gentle and hesitant only for the first second. Then his hand touched your cheek, his fingers tangled in the hair at your temple, and your palm rested on his chest, feeling your heart beating wildly under the thin fabric of your shirt, repeating the rhythm of your own. He smelled of wine, the coolness of the evening, and something subtly his own.

He pulled away first, just a centimeter, to catch his breath. His forehead pressed against yours, and his breath caught in his throat.

"I think it's time for us to get back," he said, but he didn't let go of your hand.

"Now?"

"No. But if we don't come back now, I might do something even more reckless. For example, I'll throw you over my shoulder, drag you into my car and drive home so that I don't lose this "other Reiner" that you've discovered in me."

You hear these words, and everything inside freezes, and then flares up hotter than the sunset behind your back. His confession, so direct and defenseless, hangs in the air, mixing with the aroma of wine and the freshness of the night.

"And if... Do I want you to do this?" A whisper escapes you before you have time to think about the words.

Your fingers squeeze the folds of his shirt, preventing him from pulling away, even mentally. You can see something wild and unbridled flashing in his eyes, bright and serious, something that he has been hiding so carefully all this time.

His hand slides down your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

"If we don't get out of here now... I won't be able to stop. I won't be able to pretend at work tomorrow that everything is the same. I'll look at you and remember how I kissed you, how you looked at me like that, how..."

You don't respond with words. Instead, your fingers tighten on his shirt, pulling him closer for another kiss. There is no more uncertainty in him, but there is understanding and agreement. It's a thank you for his "recklessness" and a promise that you're ready to follow him anywhere.

You whisper into his lips, barely opening them:

"Then it would be the most sensible folly of our lives."

He makes a small strangled sound, half laugh, half moan, and his arms tighten around you. For a few more seconds, both of you stand there in your bubble, where you can only hear warm breathing, the beating of hearts and distant lights in the windows of cottages.

Finally, with an incredible effort, he pulls away from you, but his hand finds yours, fingers interlace into a lock firmly, decisively.

"To hell with it," he says softly. "The hell with it."

In one smooth motion, he steps off the railing, his hands sliding under your knees and behind your back. You feel the lightness of weightlessness when he picks you up in his arms, hugging you to him.

Reiner seems to be moving you from one world to another. His steps on the soft grass are fast and confident. You press your face against his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of the night air, his perfume, and something elusive that will forever mean "safety" to you.

"Reiner... "You whispered his name, feeling his heart beating in unison with yours.

His voice was low and hoarse, and there was a smile in it.

"Shut up. Please be quiet, if you say something now, I'll be able to come to my senses. And I don't want to come to my senses.

You're laughing, your voice shaking:

"Do you understand that now the legend of Reiner Braun, the warlike and omnipotent, will be destroyed? Everyone will see how the head of the logistics department carries the accountant away from the corporate party in his arms.

His voice vibrates in your ear, and he laughs too, low and happy:

"Let them see. Let everyone see. Let this become a new official instruction. Point one: if you meet a woman at a corporate party who makes you forget who you are... Steal it. Without further ado."

He gently sets you down on the ground of his car, but he doesn't let go, pressing you against the cold metal of the door. His hands are on your waist, your hands are on his chest. In the moonlight, his face looks like it's carved out of marble, and only his eyes are alive and burning.

"Last chance. Say "stop," and we'll get it back the way it was. I'll open the door, we'll get in, and I'll take you home. And tomorrow... I'll bring you coffee tomorrow and pretend it never happened. I'll give you a choice."

You look at him. At this strong, collected man, who at this moment is trembling with tension, giving you the opportunity to cancel everything. And you realize that you've never wanted anything so much in your life as to go anywhere with him right now.

You stand on tiptoe and kiss the corner of his lips.

"I choose recklessness...and you."

Yes, I'm still here. Work won't make me forget about my love for Rеiner.

Part 1 Eren "office boy"

Part 2 Levi "office boy"

Part 3 Armin "office boy"

Jean as an employee can be described simply as "employee of the month/year". He is very executive, he will almost never go against the instructions of his superiors, but that is probably why he is unable to climb the career ladder. It is still unclear how he could get into an analytical company, because this man has always been attracted to creativity. If he spends too much time in meetings, then a sketch of the speaker or 3 cups standing in the center of the table with a beautifully designed composition will definitely appear in his notebook. He also always offers ideas for team building - art galleries, workshops on charcoal painting. He does it discreetly, using his natural charm for the girl who organizes such events. And sometimes it even works. But he carefully hides his drawings.

Jean flirts with everyone, at least that's what everyone thinks. Although he himself believes that he just "gives people a smile." The women from the finance department always invite him to drink tea, seeing him pass by their office. Among the female part of your company, he is the most enviable groom and everyone is very surprised that "Jeanboy" (as the main matchmakers of the department where you worked called him) is still single. But the thing is, you've only recently started a relationship with him.

"I'm not flirting, I'm just... energizing the atmosphere. It's a social responsibility!"

"You are especially radiant today. Did you have a good weekend?"

If someone notices his drawings in the notebook, Jean is slightly embarrassed and turns the conversation around.

"Oh, that's so... to keep awake at a meeting."

*quickly closes her notebook*

"Just a habit from university, otherwise I can't concentrate."

Only to you can he casually say something like:

"You know, it was an amazing sunrise today... It's a pity that I couldn't capture it."

You and Jean didn't exactly hide your relationship, you just didn't advertise it. You were rarely seen at work together, you worked on different floors, and the beginning of your working day did not coincide. You only came across each other in work letters and at corporate parties, and it was after one of them that you noticed your mutual liking.

This year's corporate party was held in a luxury hotel with a view of the city. You came solely for the sake of a free buffet and to check in with your superiors, without planning to stay late.

Jean, as always, was the soul of the company - he joked casually with colleagues, poured champagne for the ladies from the accounting department and even danced with the boss to applause. You were watching this, sipping a cocktail in the corner of the room, when he suddenly materialized in front of you with two glasses in his hands:

"Your Mojito. Two limes, as you like."

You took the glass in surprise:

"How did you...?"

"The finance department is chatty," he grinned. "They know everything about everyone. It's even possible that you don't know about yourself."

You laughed, looking at his sparkling eyes that were watching you closely.

After the third cocktail, you suddenly found yourself on the dance floor. Jean deftly twisted you out from under the persistent harassment of the IT manager by taking your hand:

"I'm sorry, but I've already booked this beautiful lady." and Jean puts his arm around your waist and drags you into the very center of the room.

He jokes, winks at you, whispers secrets in your ear about colleagues that women from the HR department have told him. To be honest, you didn't even notice how you decided to stay at the event much longer than planned.

The third glass did its job - the city lights below blurred, and the cool night air of May seemed to create an even greater feeling of lightness. Jean and you were sitting on the balcony of a corporate party, where Jean literally dragged you away five minutes ago, citing "an emergency lack of oxygen among these stupid garlands."

"You know," he suddenly turned to you, emptying the rest of his glass into his mouth, "you have a fatal flaw.

Your eyebrows are furrowed:

"Well, thank you, drunken genius. Which one is it, I wonder?"

"You're too..." he paused, his finger tracing an intricate trajectory in the air, "symmetrical."

"...what?"

"Look at this. Jean suddenly moved closer, his warm breath mingling with yours. "Your eyebrows. A perfect arc. The lips are exactly the same width so that the smile is 37% more charming than the average. Even the mole above her lip - damn it, it's right on the golden ratio line! "

You snorted, which made him frown even more.:

"It's not funny." You are there... A mathematical error.

"A mistake?"

"Yes!" he pointed at your shoulder. "People shouldn't be so harmonious. It's suspicious. Maybe you're a robot?"

You rolled your eyes, but he had already grabbed your chin (gently, but with drunken determination) and turned it towards the light of the street lamp.

"Here. Eyes. They should be 54% green, but I counted all 60. It's a scam."

"Jean...You made up all these numbers, didn't you?"

He froze, looking into your eyes, as if alcohol had taken over the rest of the space and the only thing he could grab onto was you.

"Of course. I work in the analytical department. All the reports are taken from the ceiling," he suddenly lowered his voice, his thumb stroked your cheek. Silence. Music was blaring somewhere inside the building, but here, in this small icy world, only his uneven breathing could be heard.

"But the fact is, I've been drawing your profile on the margins of my reports for three months. But today I realized that no pencil can convey how the light falls on your freckles when you laugh, how sweetly you squint your eyes when you don't understand what you're being told...And more... I think I'm in love. But it's probably wine."

"We only drank liquor with you."

"Oh," he smiles slowly, "then I have no excuses."

"We're both drunk," you finally whispered.

"Terribly drunk," he agreed.

"You..." you tried to pull away, but your back was already against the railing.

"I am," Jean interrupted, suddenly embarrassed. His hand trembled, but did not withdraw. "I'm probably screwed right now."

You raised an eyebrow:

"Because you called me a robot?"

"Because I've been pretending to be an office Casanova for five months," he ran a hand over his face, smearing the drunken solemnity in the gesture. "And all I wanted was for you to look at me like that just once."

You noticed how he lost all his confidence in a second, blushed a little (probably not only because of the alcohol he drank), and his tie got out of the way of your dancing together. At that moment, he really looked like a "Jeanboy", which made you involuntarily laugh.

"What?!" Jean looked offended.

"It's simple... "you pointed at his tie, which was askew. "You look like a fawn that just woke up."

He looked down, then suddenly laughed himself and undid his tie in one motion:

"To hell with it. I'll start all over again tomorrow. Sober. With flowers. With beautiful words. With..."

You put your hand over his mouth...

"Jean."

"Huh?"

"Shut up."

... and kissed him.

His lips were warm and slightly sweet because of the liquor. He froze for a second, but then he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pushing your hair back.

When you made eye contact after the kiss, he whispered::

"That's... um... So you don't need flowers?

"Oh my God, Jean!" you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile.

He showed up at your office the next morning. With a tie tied in a perfect knot, a cup of coffee, and five different apologies for "unprofessional behavior." None of them worked, so you chose the sixth option - to kiss Jean every day.

And here is the fourth part. I'm surprised. I want to create three more characters. Please, God, give me some ideas! (I hope you all enjoy it)

Part 1 Eren "office boy"

Part 2 Levi "office boy"

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"

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.

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.

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.

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

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!🤭🤗