Hyperboles be damned: this whole week had been a crick in your neck.
And speaking of which—you thought you were starting to get one from all that desk work. Gods above, sorting through all that paperwork had been brutal; you don’t know what you would have done if not for those occasional supportive text messages from Gladio. Whether it was a picture of a thumbs-up gesture, or a simple You’ve got this, baby girl three-quarters of the way through your shift, the gentle buzz of your phone every so often was more than enough to put a flutter in your stomach, or make your face light up.
(You knew it did, every time. You didn’t even have to look in the mirror to know.)
You’re staring. You can’t help it, really. Your boyfriend of three years had invited you to take a look at an apartment with him, and you’d accepted, of course. Had combed through the apartment with a careful eye, looking for anything out of place. Your tour stopped in the empty living room and you’d turned to him with a great big smile to give your approval… only to see him holding out a small box with a ring nestled inside.
You feel like you missed something, or are hallucinating, because surely… surely, there is no way…
“Marry me,” he whispers as you continue to stare. “I want to be with you.”
“Are… are you sure?” you mumble. Your vision blurs and you hide your face in your hands, feeling the tears drip down your cheeks. You must look like a wreck! But you can’t help it, because… because…!
“Yes.” You peek through your fingers and see him right in front of you, still holding that box. That ring. “You’ve been with me through so many things. Through every bit of my rocky recovery, dealing with my… brusque way of helping people, and my absolutely crazy friends.”
“You love every single one of them.” You feel yourself grin. “Especially Rin~!”
“Hey, leave him out of this.” Still, he smiles slightly in amusement. “This is you and me time.”
You throw your arms around his neck. “Yes!” you breath into his ear. “Yes, yes, and yes! Always!” He returns your hug firmly, kissing your head, eyes, cheeks, lips…
When you two finally get around to slipping the ring on your finger, you think you’ve seen nothing prettier in your entire life.
Combining all the Kyouhabas into one big psychic Kyoutani/empath Yahaba blob!
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
Kyoutani growled through his teeth, hands clenching tighter
on the collar of Yahaba’s jacket, vibrating with tension…but he still held
back, his curled knuckles just shy of brushing Yahaba’s skin.
“Will you…will you just…” his arms jerked, like he’d meant
to push Yahaba away, or maybe pull him closer, but couldn’t translate either thought
Yahaba could feel the annoyance, clenching in the pit
of his stomach, but for once in his life he ignored it, holding himself still
as Kyoutani clung to him…and that was the word he realized. This didn’t feel
like he was trying to start a fight (and he would know.) This felt like
clutching at an anchor, fighting against a riptide…
He flashed on Oikawa flopping over Iwaizumi’s shoulder, the
tiny shiver of tension leaving him when Iwa squeezed his hand. He thought of
Karasuno’s captain and vice captain exchanging glances on the sidelines, whole
conversations flying between them in an instant, Sugawara catching Oikawa in
You know what you’ve got there, right?
Yahaba raised his hands, slow and smooth, like he’d reach
out to a spooked animal, and set his hands on Kyoutani’s wrists, careful to
keep their skin from touching. “What’s going on, Kyouken?” he asked, forcing
the annoyance from his voice. “What’s wrong? I want to help–” and
what reason have I ever given you to believe that, he thought, with a sick
sting of guilt. Kyoutani shivered.
“Let me help,” Yahaba repeated, quieter, squeezing
Kyoutani’s skinny wrists through the sleeves of his jacket. “Just…tell me
what to do. Tell me what you need.”
Was there ever any question as to
what Noctis’ car would be? As much as he loves the Regalia, it’s not the same
when the R8 boasts a V10 engine that can hit 0 to 60 in 3.2 seconds with a top
speed of 205mph, almost triple that of the Regalia.
The first time Noct picks you up in
his convertible R8 Spyder you raise a skeptical brow at him. It’s impractical
(only seats 2, no hard roof), it’s loud (man does that engine roar) and to
top it off, it’s ostentatious (the sleek supercar sticks out like a sore thumb,
even in downtown Insomnia). The car is the exact opposite of your Prince.
But boy does he love this car. When
you first get in, you’re hesitant, but the moment Noct grins wickedly at you – an expression you rarely see – and revs the
engine, something within you snaps. His cocksure smirk along with the hard
vibrations of the V10 does something delicious to you; your thighs already
squirming together in anticipation.
Once you’re out of Insomnia and on open
roads, the car comes to life, roaring across the plains. Noctis shifts through
the gears seamlessly, the look of sheer concentration and wicked delight on his
face is something you’d never forget.
Top down, wind in your hair as you
take in the beautiful scenery under the starlit sky, you begin to
appreciate the Prince’s impractical choice in cars. But what you really love about the car, is this other side it
brings out of Noct.
Usually quiet and reserved, the car
seems to bring about his more untamed self. He’s
more open with you, a little more talkative, a little more mischievous,
something you used to only see when he interacts with his closest friends.
Right when you reach your
destination, a lonely plateau in Duscae overlooking nothing but wilderness,
Noct is on you. His hands, lips, body. Before you know it he’s pulled you
roughly on to his lap. You’re straddling his hard length as he desperately
tries to undo your jeans with an eagerness that sends a jolt of desire straight
to your core.
There is a certain intoxicating
exhilaration in riding the Prince of Lucis into a shuddering orgasm out in the
At the end of the night, you’re
convinced you love the car almost as much as Noct does. The next time he picks
you up, you’re properly dressed, flowy skirt sans undergarments.
Prompto | tokyobike Classic Sport Bicycle
Prompto is all about animals and exercise,
so you’re not surprised that his choice mode of transportation is by bicycle (Why
pollute when you can exercise and help the environment in one fell swoop?).
It’s quite minimalistic and really only seats one. When he arrives, brow damp
with sweat, slightly out of breath and little bike bell going “ring-a-ding-ding,” you can’t help but think a) how adorable he looks pedaling up
to you and b) how the hell were you and the picnic basket were going to fit?
Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says as he proudly pulls out a single tulip for
you (Where had he even been hiding that?!). You’re flattered, but what makes
your heart flutter is the expression on his face as he hands it to you - open,
earnest, and happy; happy to see your smile grow at his small gesture.
few minutes of fidgeting, somehow Prompto manages to strap the basket on to the
back of his bicycle and somehow you manage to sit sideways along the bar in
front of him. It’s not comfortable by any means, but being trapped between
Prompto’s arms, his breath hot against your ear, as he pedals to your
destination more than makes up for the slight discomfort.
you both go, on a wobbly start. The journey takes a little longer than usual
and you feel a little guilty that Prompto’s carrying all the weight, but he wont
switch with you, no matter how much you insist. “It’s good exercise!”
he chirps cheerily as he continues to pedal.
time you arrive at the park, Prompto’s drenched in sweat, but you don’t care.
You’re flustered and a little impatient from having his hot breath against your
neck the whole ride. You pull him by the collar for a kiss. Surprised, he
sputters a “W-wow,” face tinged with a pretty blush as he leans in
picnic lies forgotten. You need him, now.
A little sweat never bothered you anyways.
Gladiolus | Mercedes-Benz G65 SUV
Gladiolus pulls up next to you in his tank of a car, you almost burst out
laughing because, of course he’d
drive a Mercedes G65. Between the car and his smug, “Hop in, baby girl,” you’re
not sure if you want to hide or melt. Fifteen minutes into the ride, you realize
that the former was probably the better choice.
you grip onto the door for your dear life, the only thought that runs through
your head is “Gladio drives like a freaking maniac!” When he had
asked you to go on an “adventure” this was not what you had in mind. Traffic signals? Who needs them. Roads? Those
are for the weak. Animals and/or pedestrians? Road kill. Seriously though, as
much as you love this man, there’s no way in hell he’s driving you anywhere
you arrive at your destination deep in the Nebulawood in record time (“The
roads are too out of the way, it’s faster if we just cut through.”) Gladio
feels a little guilty at how pallid your skin appears so he lets you rest in
the car as he sets up camp. When you’ve recovered enough to join him, you’re
surprised to find Gladio dozing off in a folding chair, his book hanging
dangerously off his lap. Good, you
think, because he’s not getting any sleep
attempt to wake him with a surprise, but his amber eyes open before you could
get started and the next thing you know he has you pinned against the tree with
your hands restrained above you. Smirking, he says, “I was in a rush to get us
here so we’d have a little extra time together for the nice dinner I planned
out…and maybe something more. But if you want to skip ahead, I’m more than
happy to indulge you.”
he hooks your legs around his waist, grinding his length into your core, all
you could think was, Screw dinner, I’m
having you tonight.
Ignis | He’s blind, he doesn’t drive Volvo S90 Sedan
ever asked, perfect is the one word you’d use to describe Ignis. Perfectly
coiffed hair, perfectly pressed shirt, perfectly refined eloquence, perfectly
perfect. His car, of course, while understated and much more practical compared
to that of his friends, is also perfectly Ignis.
the need for speed or off-roading, the Volvo S90 is indeed the perfect car for
Ignis. It’s understated and classy with its beige leather and pine wood accent,
equipped with state-of-the-art touchscreen technology, loaded with more options
than you would ever need, but essential for the adviser to the Prince.
you get in the car, classical music from the Insomnia Philharmonic is already gently
playing from its superb speakers. Ignis hums quietly along, tapping his fingers
on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the piece. Between that and Ignis’ smooth
driving you’re quickly lulled into a peaceful slumber.
arrival at Cape Caem, Ignis wakes you with a gentle, “Kitten, we’ve arrived,”
holding out his hand to help you from the vehicle as he wraps a cashmere throw
around your shoulders to keep you warm.
you’ve made your way down to the beach, you spend the next few minutes watching
the sunset with his arms wrapped around you. It is so perfect you feel like
you could die…if not for your grumbling stomach. You tense at the sound it
makes, hoping Ignis doesn’t notice, but relax as Ignis snaps his fingers and
mumbles, “I knew I forgot something.”
decidedly unlady-like snort escapes you as you turn around to kiss him. Ignis
wasn’t perfect all the time, but he was perfect for you.
Nyx | BMW R nine T Pure Motorcycle
You almost kick Nyx off his ride the first time he “picks you
up” because that’s exactly what he tries to do – holler at
you as if you were a two-bit whore. He stops his bike (albeit impressively) one
foot away from you and whistles loudly, catcalling as if you were a piece
of meat. With his face obscured by his helmet, you almost knock the offending
asshole onto the ground until you notice that his leather jacket is
suspiciously familiar and that those boots were definitely Kingsglaive issued.
As Nyx removes his helmet, shaking his braids free and running
his hand through his hair, you are torn between throttling him and taking him
now. If you thought you had it bad before, boy are you in for a rude awakening.
He’s clad in all black: cotton V-neck shirt underneath worn leather jacket,
leather gloves over calloused hands and, the best part, tight jeans that show
off the thickness of his thighs…among other
"Get on,” he orders as he
throws you a helmet. You let him boss you around, just this once (Who are you kidding? You secretly love
it when he’s demanding), because you’re just as impatient as him to have your
arms around him. Once you’re on and situated, he doesn’t wait to take off,
swerving in and out of traffic fifty above the speed limit. Your only option is
to hold on to him for your dear life, and when he chuckles at the tightening of
your embrace as he speeds all the faster, you know this asshole planned this
But you can’t complain, not really.
It’s an easy excuse to enjoy the burning heat of his body, the hard planes of
his chest, and the sweet intoxicating musk of his scent – fire, sweat, and cedar mixed
into something uniquely Nyx.
Once you’re past city limits and
feeling brave enough, you throw your arms up in the air, exalting in the
feeling of freedom and adrenaline as Nyx carries you off into the dusk. Being
the cheeky bastard that he is, Nyx suddenly brakes causing you to let out a
scream as your chest slams against his back and your hands slam down in panic,
grasping the closest thing in reach. He laughs so loudly, you can feel the
rumble of his chest against yours, as he says, “If you’re that eager, I have no
problem making you scream again, right here, right now.”
Your first thought is, “WHAT?” and your second is, “Oh. Oh…” when you realize you’re grasping
the junctures of his thighs, fingers brushing the inner parts (where he’s most
sensitive) and the growing bulge of his erection. You grow silent as you hotly
blush, unsure of how to respond because wow, this is moving all too fast for
Nyx chuckles, for the second time
today, at your expense and says teasingly, “Don’t worry. I don’t put out on the
Noctis: This prince definitely wants somewhere low-key he can enjoy with you, and the fish. Expect to be somewhere close to the ocean so he can go on that deep-sea fishing adventure. Early in the morning, back by the afternoon to lounge around the poolside until dinner. Late at night as your swaying in a hammock, he settles in next to you, watching the stars together.
Prompto: Don’t be surprised if he wakes you up early to go on a road trip. He’s already got the car packed and idle, so it’s time to go! You two take turns at the wheel and aux cord, stopping at all the weirdest places off the highway. Prompto documents your little journey on his Instagram, so many pictures. When you’ve both had enough driving for that day, and pull over for the night, that’s when he strikes. Pulling you in for an impromptu cuddle session while zoning out to some cheesy lifetime movie.
Gladiolus: An adventure awaits! This trip is fueled with excitement and passion! Go backpacking and stay in all the best places he knows, and get ready to hike some beautiful areas. Trees as tall as you both form a sort of canopy over the trail your on, making it feel like the entrance to a forest kingdom. End your first leg of the trip setting up camp for the night in front of a picturesque lake. It would be early in the morning when he drags you out of bed to watch a spectacular sunrise together.
Ignis: With his job as advisor, he doesn’t get much time off, but when
he does, its a blessing. This ends up more being a staycation than
anything. However he’ll make the most of that free time with you. The chance to go out and sample different cuisines at the local street food fair is delectable, and being able to visit the art gallery in the same day is a bonus. When your busy admiring a mural on the wall, he’ll wrap an arm around your waste and admit how gorgeous you look among the pieces.
Noctis takes the new information in stride, as he does with most things, but he’s always available to lend an ear if you need to vent about something, like one of the databases going a little screwy when grades are about to close or a student giving you some lip. He definitely respects your position and all the effort you put into your work, especially as someone who graduated at the top of his class; he knows what dedication looks like, and he knows what all the effort to be the best at what you do feels like. Expect Noctis to offer on more than one occasion to stay up late with you while you grade papers or tests. He’ll leave all the correcting to you, because he knows that no one can do your job better than you, but he’ll sit close by, tapping away at King’s Knight and stealing glances at you. And don’t be surprised if he drapes a blanket over your lap or, more often than not, fall asleep against you while you work.
Prompto instantly wants to know the ins and outs of what you do. Do you work with high schoolers or elementary kids? What subject do you teach, or do you tackle all of them? Is the teacher’s lounge as swanky as kids always made it out to be growing up? (It’s not, but he’s not necessarily disappointed.) Whatever it is, he listens with rapt attention, and he’s always the person you go to when you have silly anecdotes to share over dinner, like the time you found out you share a similar interest with one of your students halfway through the school year, or the Student/Faculty basketball game you’ve been practicing for. (Which he goes to. Brought a foam finger with your name scrawled in Sharpie and everything.) It’s because of all those little stories that Prompto can see how dedicated you are to your job, and especially to making sure your students are well-educated in a safe environment where they can feel respected.
Ignis is likely more concerned with the logistics of everything. Rather than focusing on the grades or silly stories, at the end of the day he’s infinitely more interested in the subject matter. He’ll frequently look over your lesson plans—not because he wants to critique them, though he can give constructive criticism if you ask for it—but because he genuinely wants to learn more about the places where you exercise your expertise. He loves your affinity for certain topics, and encourages you through the dullness of others, reminding you (perhaps in more ways than one) that passion is contagious. Ignis also understands that teaching can be a job that leaves you feeling overworked and underappreciated, and he’s more than acquainted with stress of his own. Expect him to bring you tea and gently clear away your work without further argument, because you don’t deserve to work perpetually the way he has to—and, perhaps, to offer to help chaperone some of your field trips, especially if it’s to a museum.
Gladio is, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the guy who makes the teacher kink jokes. If you ask him to do something for you—or to not do something at all—expect him to give you that grin you love so much and say something like, “Or what? You’ll give me detention?” (He’ll do it regardless. It’s just worth seeing the little blush that flares up every time he says it.) Teasing aside, though, he really admires what you do, especially if you work with high schoolers. It’s something he can relate to himself, given the ways he tries to connect with Iris and helped her with schoolwork in the past. He actually confesses to you, one night as you’re lying in bed together, that he’d want to be a literature professor if he weren't—if he didn’t have to be the King’s Shield. That maybe, when all of this blows over and the world is right again, he can do that with his life. He has to pull you away from little daydreams of “Professor Amicitia,” and adds with a wink that he could always use a Teaching Assistant—a job you would readily take.
Haha I literally thought up this one at work so I have to flesh it out more but
-Xander is that hot biker dude in that leather jacket who whips off his helmet and flips his hair and Ryoma just goes, shojo vision, fucking doki mate (I haven’t figured out what Ryoma does in this AU yet but he doesn’t ride a bike and that’s why he’s hanging on to Xander for dear life when Xander takes him out for a ride)
-Courtesy of @damoselcastel and @vashiane Leo wears a full-body leather tracksuit thing because he’s just extra, so extra, Takumi asks do you really need that and Leo’s like of course I need it
-Camilla has her entire squad (Beruka and Selena) in matching jackets and likes to nyoom around in triangle formation
-Elise has a pink helmet and a bedazzled jacket and a fluffy skirt and leather boots with bows
-Hinoka out of the Hoshidans probably takes to bikes the best since she’s also a canon mount, there’s probably races
-Xander speeds a lot, like, he goes way over the speed limit and probably has a ton of speeding tickets but he has never gotten into an accident
-He may have accidentally caused some, however
-Xander may be the driver but Ryoma is the one with second hand road rage
@sonsoflucis: he looks so hipster-y too. like he and i could jam to vinyls. and then fuck on a stack of vinyls. OOOH A CAJUN ACCENT.
@sailormars109: Low grunts with a southern drawl. And the way your name just rolls off his tongue.
wolfgoddess77: That deep, smooth voice…
sailormars109: It will have you melting in his arms before you know it
wolfgoddess77: With a hint of lilt in it. There’s something almost musical about the way he talks.
@vashiane: Gladiolus Amicitia is the (wo)man-catchin’ beignet.
wolfgoddess77: Oh, and did we mention he’s musical? MAN CAN PLAY AND SING.
sailormars109: Louisiana Gladio would totally take you on one of those haunted attraction rides just so you’ll be practically in his lap the entire time.
vashiane: This man is just Tall Naveen.
wolfgoddess77: Gladio cooking you shrimp and gumbo. FROM SCRATCH.
vashiane: Gladio in Dr. Facilier’s suit though
sailormars109: over a campfire. Y’all could lay out at night and look at the stars. And hear the crackle of the fire with your bellies full from his home cooking.
wolfgoddess77: Campouts on the bayou would require a lot of mosquito repellent, but he brings those torches and candles that ward them off. Incidentally, those things make excellent mood lighting. You camp out beneath the moss-hung trees, listening to the serenade of the crickets. You can see the moonlight through the branches and reflected off the water.
sailormars109: When he kisses you, it’s soft at first, but quickly heats up in passion.
It’s Love Your Writer Day and I just wanted to give a big shout out to all my fellow writers in all our various fandoms! We all work really hard on the things we put out, and I want you to know that you’re all so amazing. <3 Each and every one of you is in need of SO MUCH PRAISE.
a few of the wonderful authors i’ve been blessed to meet, and whose work i’ve been blessed to read:
Ah man, I’m sure I missed so many people. I’m going off memory here and I have the crappiest memory ever. If I forgot to tag you, I’m SO SORRY. But even if you aren’t specifically tagged, I love you, and you are wonderful, and you deserve so much praise for all the wonderful creations you’ve made!
moonbroch: an old Scottish word for a hazy halo of cloud around the moon at night that was a sign of bad weather to come
“You said your father was sending you away.”
Your voice cracked as you adamantly refused to meet the prince’s gaze, lest you stop being angry. “You… said… you were leaving to marry… someone else.” Your hands shook, eyes boring into the ground. The princess of Tenebrae was to wed Noctis. Lunafreya was to be with the man you had grown up with, the man you shared your first kiss with, the man who made you see stars, who knew about that one spot on your neck… As a symbol of peace. And you could have accepted it. You did, in fact. You accepted it when he held you and told you he will always love you. You accepted it when you watched the boys pull away from the curb, en route to Galdin Quay. You accepted it when you sank to your knees by your favorite tree in the royal gardens and wept quietly. What you did not accept was this…
Him, strolling back into Insomnia, invisible in the buzzing city, everyone antsy for the signing ceremony. Him, finding you in your favorite bookstore, flipping furiously through each novel unfortunate to be within eyesight, never truly looking at any of them. Him, convincing you to take him back to your little house on the edge of the city. “No, no, they’ll be fine, Iggy took them out for dinner.” Him, him and his stupid, stupid smirk. Watery apologies. Hot tears.
Noctis cursed under his breath, burning himself on the tea kettle. You were too busy cleaning to pay the whistling any mind. As if it could distract you from what was happening. You grumbled venomously, wiping down the front of the cabinets.
“Idiot boy… So stupid.”
“I can hear you,” he bit back, clicking the burner off.
Did anyone in the fic surprise me by doing anything? If so, what?
Let me tell you about Eren.
When I first started fooling around with this ot3 heist AU Eren was this tightly wound ball of anger and aggression who was basically primed to go off like a powder keg at any second.
And then I started writing. Stuff happened. the twitsquad got involved and headcanon jams were held. And then. And then.
And now I’ve got this floppy 165 pound puppy who still tries to sleep in his dad’s lap even though he’s 5 inches taller and 20 pounds heavier than his dad now, and is addicted to Capri Sun and cooking shows and teaches tae kwon do to small children at a community center and pretty much wags his tail whenever Marco walks into a room.
For the ask meme -- any fandom/pairing you want, with the sentence, "You push yourself too hard."
Those were the words Hajime would say to him, over and over, in various stages of exasperation, and often at ungodly hours of the night when he caught him scribbling away at his strategies or school work — that’s how it had always been.
But this time it’s the other way around, it’s Tooru squeezing Hajime’s shoulder, a gentle scold on his lips, before he pries the pencil out of his hands and puts it back on the table.
“Come to bed,” he whispers, kissing Hajime’s cheek, “we can work on the guest list together after we’ve slept; you’re not doing anyone a favor here.”
Hajime smiles and leans into the touch, his hand finding Tooru’s and tracing the smooth surface of the silver band on his ring finger, his answer a sleepy slur of, “How come you’re so relaxed about this? Aren’t you supposed to be flipping your shit every five minutes?”
“Ah, you know, a grumpy old man once told me that resting doesn’t equal wasting time, and I think he was very right,” Tooru says, pulling Hajime to his feet, and he feels warmth spreading inside his body from how Hajime doesn’t let go of his hand until they’re curled around each other under the blankets.
Bertholdt was in the kitchen when he heard the overhead bell chime out. The clock had just rolled past 2 AM and the sound of boot-clad footsteps echoed throughout the empty restaurant. He was here. Feeling his fingertips tremble against the plastic handle of the now steaming pot of coffee, Bertholdt carefully emptied the contents into a speckled, white mug. Two sugars, one packet of cream (the off-brand too, not like Bertholdt was judging). Moving his fingers through the motions, Bertholdt peared his wandering eyes over the window separating the kitchen from the dining room. He could spot the top of a black brimmed hat, metal emblem glistening off the harsh, florescent lighting. It really was him, not like Bertholdt had any doubts in the first place.
He was over-mixing the coffee now, spinning a bent, metal spoon in spirals around the now hide-colored liquid. Catching a breath in his throat, Bertholdt lightly tossed the utensil into the sink behind him, traveling carefully into view. He was smiling, like he always did, sitting with his elbow propped up under his chin and a newspaper flipped open on the counter. He always smiled, even at 2 am, it was a fact that intrigued Bertholdt enough to anticipate his graveyard shifts, hoping Officer Bodt would stop over while things were slow. His heart was racing now, teeth chattering between his clenched jaw. Maybe today would be the day he actually stopped to chat, rather than simply fumbling through the dialog? Bertholdt seriously doubted that.
As his beeline came to a halt, Bertholdt heard a fearful whine escape from his throat as he set down the mug. What if he was busy tonight, or his shift was difficult and he didn’t wish to speak to anyone, let alone a lowly nightshift employee at some dingy diner. Bertholdt opened his mouth to speak, and before he could choke out a greeting, the strange, tingling sensation of warmth crossed his fingertips. Leaping back in fight, raising a leg into some ridiculous pose that wouldn’t help a thing, he heard the ceramic mug clatter to the floor. Coffee was flowing from the countertop, and a few darkened newspaper pages hung lifelessly beside it. This had to happen, on all nights, and of all people? Glancing up, a look of defeat behind his eyes, Bertholdt bit his lip in expectation for a verbal lashing.
But, he was laughing.
Pausing for a moment, Bertholdt cocked his head whilst settling his limbs back into their relaxed state. Marco was giggling, folding what was left of the newspaper into sections. Why wasn’t he upset? If anything, shouldn’t he be irate about the coffee being only lukewarm? Snapping back to his senses, Bertholdt scurried under the counter, retrieving a worn-out rag to soak the pooled liquid behind the counter.
“You remembered my coffee,” Marco began, “Two pack-“
“Two packs sugar, one cream. Only the generic brand because the normal has too much vanilla.” Bertholdt recited, glancing up from the floor.
“I guess that means I get a free one then, right?” Marco grinned, pulling some napkins from the tray beside him to assist in the cleanup.
“It was already free,” Bertholdt mumbled shyly under his breath, “I made it just for you so…”
“You know you don’t have to do that, you work hard enough. Things can’t be easy this late at night. Plus, I’m just a cop; I get enough reward just being of service.”
“I know,” Bertholdt began again, averting his eyes towards the tile, “It wasn’t about that, your job I meant. It was just for you.”
Marco had gone quiet, and in an act of pure boldness, Bertholdt pried his eyes from the drying droplets of coffee to see his eyes breaking over the crest of the counter. He had so many freckles under the shade of that hat, he had no idea. But, Marco was still smiling, a bit softer now than before.
“I’d really like that,” He started, “Especially from a guy like you.”