#tamcitrus

cheers!

pairing: reiner braun x f reader

genre: general/fluff

reiner favors a certain coffee shop.

wc: 956

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Visit #1

"What can I get for you today, handsome?"

The compliment catches Reiner by surprise, and he finds himself losing his grip on his phone. "I-," he bends down to retrieve his phone from the ground, inspecting it for any scratches or cracks. He sighs in relief. Everything is still intact.

He straightens himself up, ears being greeted by a nervous giggle from the barista across the counter. "I'm sorry," he hears you say in the same tone that you called him handsome in, "I just figured that I said that in a friendly way. I didn't mean to, you know, hit on you."

He meets your eyes finally, and he's pleased to see someone who doesn't look creepy (but maybe you look a bit tired). "That's okay," he replies. "It's not everyday that I get called handsome. Just caught me off guard." He retrieves his worn-out, fake leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

"I find that hard to believe," you say, volume low as you punch in his order and hand over his house coffee. "Black?" you ask, and to that he nods.

"Thanks," he says to you, nodding his head and bringing his coffee cup up in a cheers motion before heading towards the door to go about his day.

Visit #4

Before he even has a chance to clear his throat and part his lips, your eyes are already focused on the register, tapping away at the buttons with your index finger. "House coffee. Black. Would you like any sweets today?" you say, finally looking up at him with a smile.

He can't say that he's speechless, but he also can't say that he's having a hard time forming words. Does he come here that often? "Am I predictable?"

You let out a giggle, and shake your head no. But then you say, "Everyone's predictable at some point. You've been here at least four times," you say, taking his card to swipe it and then handing it back. "But being predictable isn't bad. Especially if it isn't a complicated order." Your face twists, and Reiner thinks that you're having a very vivid memory of someone ordering a rather twisted drink, possibly from the internet's 'secret menu' section.

"Anyway," you say, shaking off whatever thought you may have been having, "no sweets for my sweet?" you suggest, pointing at the chocolate croissants within the glass bubble next to you. "They're half-off because we ordered too many from our vendor."

Reiner contemplates for a minute (mind totally not replaying the way the word sweet sounds from your mouth) and shakes his head. "Not today, I'm trying to budget myself daily," he admits sheepishly, though he knows that spending $4 on coffee is going over his daily budget by $2. But he can't help it. He doesn't have time to make it at home.

You nod quickly, look over your shoulder to see if your manager is anywhere to be spotted, and quickly pop out a small paper bag and stuff two croissants in it. Excitedly, you hand it over to him. "Take 'em," you say, urging with your hands, "we'll be throwing them out if we don't sell them all. Have them as a snack or something. Think of me when you're eating them, yeah?"

With his coffee finally in his hand and and a bag of croissants wedged between the cup and his fingers, he sends himself off in what is another cheers motion.

You notice that his eyes flicker their way towards the bottom of his cup every time he does so. Probably to make sure there isn't any spillage. How discreet.

Visit #8

"You're Reiner, right?" the bald Barista asks from behind the register today. "The one who comes in around the same time every Wednesday, and then sometimes comes on a random Friday a little past 2 o'clock?"

Reiner watches the man squint at the counter, and he feels a bit embarrassed that he's become a regular at this coffee shop. "That's me," he says sheepishly, hands in his back pocket to dig out his wallet. As he does so, he (as swiftly as possible) looks behind the barista and does a quick sweep of the back counter.

The barista, who Reiner now knows as Connie thanks to his nametag placed methodically on his visor, snickers. No doubt he knows who Reiner is looking for. "She isn't here today," Connie tells him.

His face warms. "Oh," he replies, trying his best not to sound defeated. "I guess I," he licks his lips to find his words, "I guess I thought she'd always be here when I stopped by?" And he receives a knowing nod in response.

"Put your wallet away," he says with a wave of his hand as he turns around to fish something from out of Reiner's view. The something (a piece of paper?) is nudged in between towers of clean dishes and clean rags. "I was told to give it to you on the house today by your favorite worker."

Reiner, looking at Connie's back, swears he can hear Connie smile.

"Ah," he lets out, "that's very... nice. Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Connie turns around, smiling just like Reiner knew he was, "thank Y/N. I'm just the messenger. And don't forget to check the bottom of the cup. I'm clumsy."

And Reiner, like he's so used to, raises his cup up in a 'cheers' motion. When he does so, he notices a pink slip of paper taped to the bottom.

sorry i'm not there today! had to cat-sit my brothers cat while he was away. i'll be back wednesday like always :)

p.s. if you’re missing me extra hard, here’s my number

xoxo

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