#barista keith

[soulreapin]

thinking about rival barista klance

keith who works the night shift and makes odd drinks because they sound good and plays 80’s emo rock like depeche mode

lance who works the morning shift and is everyones favorite barista and is always winning the drink competition who plays kali uchis and TV girl

keith and lance who are mild acquaintances that bond over the guy working the previous shift and how bad their music taste is

they know where each other work but assume its just another location in town

keith and lance who are assigned to the same shift and keith clocks in first and puts on queen, then lance clocks in and changes it to surf curse

they see eachother and its so fucking ridiculous they cant help but laugh

[portrait-of-a-moron]

NO SHOT. I just uncovered a relic it’s klance fanfic from 2021 in my Google drive.

[jupiterruo-x]

安心の死亡 || THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND, a voltron: legendary defender fanfiction

prologue.

♜‧₊˚⋆｡☽˚☆˖°⋅♘

When he’s eight years old, Keith finds himself sitting in a massive metal box rank with the combined smell of sea water, piss, and bile. Somehow, he manages not to puke himself; instead, he tries his best to breathe in the heavy air and ignore the pungent odor. His arms are bound by zip ties behind his back and heavy iron chains rest around his ankles.

AO3

His face feels wet, his hair is stuck to his sweaty face, and he can feel the icy walls of the cargo container’s the back of his head. Keith goes to turn his head, but when he tries, scorching pain rockets up his spine and fresh blood oozes out of a hastily stitched wound at the base of his head. He’s overwhelmed and tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.

There’s a flash of light that shrines through the cracks of his confinement and to his horror, he’s not alone. Other kids around his age are strewn about the floor of the box—some are older and there are even a few younger.

He can hear his heartrate surging louder and louder.

With his wrists bound, Keith realizes he can’t grab the knife he keeps hidden on his forearm.

Another flash of light through the gaps in the box, and he feels panic bubbling in his chest threatens to rip him in half.

Keith’s stomach knots itself further and forces himself to swallow the bile rising in his own throat, shoving it back down.

He tries to take a calming breath in through his nose despite the repugnant smell, but he only feels a sharp throb at his bridge, coming to the conclusion that his nose is very likely broken.

His breathing becomes more and more erratic, he can’t feel the weight on his stomach, and suddenly, he’s trembling.

There are more rapid flashes of light, but he can’t tell where they’re coming from or if they’re even real.

His eyes are heavy.

So much so, he feels them closing against his will.

He lets them fall shut.

Upon reawakening, Keith finds himself under the weight of a blanket in a moving car rather than the shipping container he originally regained conscious in. Panic and adrenaline rush through his body, leaving him flailing ungracefully beneath the cloak and flinging himself off the plush seats of the car onto the carpeted flooring. The interior of the car is mostly hidden in shadows with the glow of the city surrounding them leaking in through the glass, constantly changing and shifting while the car cruises through the city’s sky routes.

His eyes land on a figure sitting on the seat opposite the one he woke on. Keith sits up, ramrod straight against the seat of the leather chair. He scowls up at the man above him.

Undoubtedly, this man is dangerous. Keith has lived long enough here and there on the streets to know someone else from the same alleys and slums on the occasion he comes across them. A scar cuts through his left eye, while the other stares back at him. Narrowed eyes and creased brows alongside pursed lips give Keith very little to gage anything on. But golden eyes gleam steadily in the darkness, and it’s in this man’s eyes that he finds the slightest sense of familiarity. Slowly, Keith pushes himself up into a sitting position on the floor of the car, with his hands instinctively curling into fists in a defensive stance.

The car comes to a halt, jostling Keith, but the man’s rigid posture remains unmoving and steady.

He blinks at Keith. Once, twice.

It isn’t until the car begins to move again, and a barely audible sigh is exhaled through his nose, that this man moves.

He uncrosses his legs and scoots forward a few centimeters in his seat. Upon leaning down to level his stare with Keith’s, a long braid of white hair falls over his shoulder. Keith’s eyes follow the movement intently but dart back up.

The man with golden eyes meet his own and opens his mouth to speak, but when he does, he realizes that the man is speaking the same language that the men holding him captive spoke.

A new rush of fear and rage are coursing through him instantly, triggering Keith’s instinct to attack. He unsheathes the knife from its place on his arm and jabs it at the man’s jugular but tumbles forward as the car swerves and the man dodges. However, Keith is quick to recover and manages to get up to his feet from one knee. He takes the chance to lunge forward again, but he’s quickly shoved with his back against the car’s seat. Even though Keith opens his mouth to scream, he’s swiftly silenced as one hand covers the entire lower half of his face muffles any sound he might try to make and the other confiscates his weapon.

“Cease your struggling, boy.”

Keith freezes, and against his will, he listens to this man. He’s partially stunned by fear and partially stunned by the sound of his mother tongue. The sound feels too foreign, yet entirely all too familiar at once. It’s been years since he’s heard it.

His captor seems to take this as a positive sign of cooperation and rearranges Keith so that he’s no longer pinned against the floor. He allows him to sit up with his back against the leg rests of the car seat once again and leans back in his own seat.

“Now, tell me, what’s your name?”

Keith remains still, cutting his eyes at the man.

In his act of resistance, he expects to be shoved onto the floor, to further damage his nose, and bleed onto the plush beige carpets that cover the floor of the vehicle. But that never comes. Instead, silence hangs over them.

The man purses his lips.

“I am Koji, and with me, you are safe.”

His tone is clipped but trying to show patience. It almost appears like he’s attempting to sound comforting, but Keith knows he can’t let his hopes overrun his instinct to survive. So, he remains silent, saying nothing, and regarding Koji with contempt caution.

“Do you understand me?”

Thump, thump. His heart hammers against his chest still, but his pulse has steadied, leveling out.

Minutes might drag by, but Keith doesn’t give in to the eerie silence.

Koji heaves an audible breath through his nose and closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them once more, he asks again with definitely more forceful tone, “Do you understand me, boy?”

And though it pains Keith’s pride at the back of his mind, his anxiety over the situation overrules his stubbornness.

With his jaw clenched tightly, Keith stiffly nods once at him. I understand.

“Do you speak?”

Another nod.

Koji hums in acknowledgement, his eyes haven’t left Keith’s this entire time, and Keith is too frightened to look away. If the last four years have taught him anything, it’s that his foes exploit weaknesses and any show of them only gives way to their influence over him.

Koji leans back against the back of his seat, returning to his neutral position.

“So then, tell me your name, boy.”

There’s a harshness to his tone that keeps Keith silent. He draws back again, trying to push himself further away from Koji, but the curve of the car’s seat only digs further into his back.

Koji exhales through his nose, glancing down at his fists resting on the tops of his thighs. When he looks back at Keith once more, his eyes look softer, almost apologetic. It feels like Koji is trying to tell Keith he’s sorry; that he’s not used to whatever position it is they’ve found themselves in, but he wants to help. Wants Keith to see that he’s on his side.

But words are hard.

“I apologize,” Koji murmurs, “I am not well versed in…comforting people.”

Keith studies Koji with furrowed brows. He glances out the tinted windows of the car and watches the city’s lights pass by. He looks back at Koji with pursed lips, and then down at his knees raised to his chest protectively.

“Keith.”

His voice is barely a whisper, but he knows Koji heard him.

Another stretch of silence, and a small sigh follows. More lively, high-rise buildings fly by in a smear of color.

Koji clears his throat, “From now on, you’ll be living with me. I live with a large family, but we will be living apart from them.”

Keith slowly rises to his feet and climbs back into the seat on wobbly feet as Koji continues. He never looks away from Koji’s form that’s still cast in moving shadows.

“You will soon have other children around your age as your peers, but they do not know our language. Do you know Japanese well?”

Keith shrugs his shoulders. It’s fine.

Koji hums skeptically, “It will be something you have to refine. Though, we can discuss that later, from now on, you must answer to the name: Akira.”

Keith shoots Koji another glare, creased eyebrows obviously confused.

“The Shirogane Clan is one of the most powerful families in the country. Our Oyaji-san is a good man, but one of…tradition. Around the family, I will call you by this name, but in our home, you will remain Keith,” Koji explains. Koji pauses, pondering his thoughts for a moment. “I do not wish to cause you pain in calling you by this new name, but until our old boss’ time comes to an end, there is not much I can do to aid this.”

Koji’s voice sounds somber, Keith concludes. He doesn’t think that he’s heard anything like that, and if he has, he can’t remember it very well.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he nods again.

The rest of their drive is silent, and honestly, Keith is…content to watch the glowing lights pass by his window. Distantly, he wonders what the stars might look like out by the sea where they’re the brightest, but the thought of smelling the ocean makes his stomach churn.

He pushes that to the back of his mind to bury it deep, deep down.

Eventually, Koji tells him they’ve arrived at their destination. They come upon a traditional style estate, which speaks volume already. The car circles around in the sky giving Keith an aerial view of this new home while the driver of the car waits for the landing signal from a couple of men on the property. Traditional mid-century Edo period shoin-zukuri in 54th century contemporary Tokyo is a miracle in itself, but one in such excellent condition is almost unheard of. The details in the main ridge can be seen from the sky, lit with an array of lights from nearby glowing buildings. The kaya roof tops have clearly been maintained and replaced perfectly for centuries with astute care as not a single one is out of line, missing, or chipped. Grand cherry blossoms and black pine trees stretch over and across the numerous houses of the Shirogane estate, elegantly shielding parts of the manor from his eye. From the hovering car, Keith can see people walking along the verandas and some form of tae kwon do training taking place on one of the open quads.

“They are practicing kenjutsu,” Koji supplies, as though he could read Keith’s mind. “All children learn traditional forms of karate, and study other forms of martial arts, as well.”

Soon, you will be training amongst them, is silently understood.

The estate sits on a large, anti-gravity platform that hovers above what looks to be a series of building remains lit up by lines of quintessence energy that glow dully in random patterns. Eventually, the driver must receive the green light to land the car because they’re suddenly descending through a gap in what appears to be an invisible barrier surrounding the estate.

Once the car lands, the doors part, sliding open, and Koji steps out of the car. He straightens his tie and brushes any debris from his suit then turns to look down at Keith, waiting.

Keith swallows nervously, but schools his expression as best he can and slides out of the car to stand behind Koji. Out of the car, Keith realizes just how large Koji is as the man stands tall with his shoulders back, towering over Keith. He peeks around Koji’s large left hand curiously to get a better head-on look at the estate from the ground’s perspective.

Like Koji, everything seems all the more massive from where he stands, and he finds that terrifying.

The familiar feeling of body-wracking tremors and the inability to regulate his breathing surge through him, and…and…

This is how he felt right before he passed out.

Looking down at the pristine white concrete, all he sees are his stained pant legs and grimy shoes peeking out from the cloth around his shoulder which have all begun to blur together.

But then Koji is kneeling before him propped on his right knee, still having to crouch further down, locking eyes with him, nonetheless.

“Akira,” Koji’s voice beckons, albeit a bit gruffly, pulling Keith from his panic. “Akira,” he tries again, slowly extending his hand out towards Keith. He stops a little over halfway the distance between them to give Keith the chance to place his hand in Koji’s.

He doesn’t, because Koji’s hand is blurring into a mass of purple and black and Keith’s arms feel so heavy, he can’t move either of them. His vision has gone blurry, once more, and he can’t tell if it’s his head that’s messing with him or if he’s crying.

“Keith.”

His head jerks up and is met with a reoccurring comfort in Koji’s golden eyes. They don’t blur. He can see them clearly; so clearly that Keith can pick out hues of amber and hazel, too.

“Upon my return, I meet with the head of our Clan, our which you will come to call our Oyassan,” Koji informs still trying his best to sound gentle. Though, there’s still a stiffness in his tone. “He will wish to meet with you as well upon arrival; however, once the meeting is adjourned, you may rest in my quarters.”

It takes a few moments for Keith to process what Koji says, but eventually, he nods tightly. He’s still eyeing Koji’s steady outreaching hand, regarding it with hesitation.

“Good.”

Koji rises from his knee, and begins heading toward the estate, posture straight with his shoulders back again, and his lips set in a slight frown.

Keith does his best to copy Koji’s demeanor, one that’s calm yet poised.

Though, this quickly becomes too much for an eight-year-old, and he ends up trailing after Koji rather closely, tempted to reach up and take Koji’s hand that he had offered him earlier.

But, he still can’t bring himself to.

Keith finds that being near Koji is enough to keep those gross anxious feelings from earlier surging through his body again—and for now, that’s enough.

He follows Koji through a series of winding veranda halls lined with shouji and wooden pillars. He stops once to ask a woman dressed in a simple kimono something about the kumicho. Once Koji thanks her, they continue to further and further into the compound before coming to a stop at one of the shouji on the left side of the hallway.

Koji speaks with one of the men in the hallway who is dressed in the most casual clothing Keith has seen since setting foot inside the estate. The man opposite of Koji glances down at him at the mention of Akira and Keith fights the urge to hide behind him; to stand firm and remain solid. He tries to appear strong like Koji.

The man Koji is talking to bows to Koji, who then turns to him and nods once again at Keith before following the other man into the room. Koji calls out ‘Excuse me, Sir,’ followed by an ‘Apologies for the intrusion,’ to whomever sits on the inside the room. Koji lowers himself down on his knees to slide the shouji door open, enter, and gently slide the door shut behind him. He didn’t look back at Keith.

That sends a wave of anxiety through him once more.

The hallway is still and quiet. Not a sound can be heard from inside the room, so Keith guesses that there must be some sort of silencing technology woven into the screens that line the halls. Keith leans forward to get a closer look at the white screens to find lines of something threaded throughout the material, proving him right.

Briefly, he wonders what else city technology could do.

“Oh, there’s someone here,” a voice observes from behind him.

Keith whips around, taken by surprise and ready to pull the knife his mother had given him out of its secret holster hidden on his forearm. Upon spinning on his heel, Keith comes to face with not one person, but two: a boy and a girl.

The boy stands tall, around sixteen years old, dressed in a white button-down shirt and black slacks. The girl, who looks to be maybe twelve, stands a little behind him with half of her body tucked behind his. From what Keith can see, she’s also wearing a white blouse and what appears to be a bow around its collar. She’s not wearing slacks, but instead, a navy and grey plaid skirt that comes to the top of her knee which matches her bow.

Keith pulls the dark cloak around his body closer to him. He refuses to acknowledge the fact that his face burns with growing embarrassed at his haggard looking appearance beneath it. Still, he tries to smother his embarrassment and fixes the two with a cautious scowl.

The boy moves to step forward, and Keith backs up in the opposite direction which prompts the other boy to stop and to remain where he stands. When Keith looks up, he’s met with the boy’s dark stare, and despite being thunderstorm grey, his eyes are kind and almost warm. He offers Keith an inviting grin and bows. To say he’s taken aback would be an understatement—no one has ever bowed to Keith.

Whatever confused expression written across his face has the girl giggling a little.

“Welcome to our home. It’s a pleasure to meet you; I’m Shirogane Takashi,” says the boy with a kind smile. He looks back over his shoulder at the girl, and nods his head back in Keith’s direction, “Tamiko, you should greet our guest.”

Tamiko purses her lips together and her big green eyes glance over at Keith for a second. She looks back up at Takashi and nods her head a little. “Welcome in,” she whispers timidly, “I’m Shirogane Tamiko.”

Takashi’s eyes dart to the door and back to Keith, and just as he opens his mouth to say something else, a man enters the hall from the room Koji had disappeared into.

All eyes are on a man dressed in deep hues of blues and blacks. The man from earlier. He notices the Shirogane siblings first and instantly bows at the waist, “Good morning, wakasama, jyou-san.”

Takashi and Tamiko smile at the man in the doorway and greet him with their own polite ‘good mornings.��

He then turns to Keith, “You, inside. Oyassan wishes to meet with you.”

Keith gingerly shuffles over to the entrance of room where the man had disappeared. He tries his best not to start his tremors, again.

“It’ll be alright,” Takashi’s voice assures. “Our father is a good man.”

Takashi’s words were meant to be comforting, but Keith doesn’t feel any better.

“I think he’ll like you,” Tamiko adds unexpectedly.

A new silence hangs in the air, and Keith takes a deep breath. He mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ over his shoulder before doing his best to copy the movements he saw Koji perform earlier and shuffling through the sliding door himself.

[pricelessemotion]

Never really over | S.H.

summary: [4.2k] you and steve fall apart, then fall back together.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: so much angst, best friends to exes to lovers, language, gratuitous taylor swift references

a/n: exes to lovers is one of my fave tropes so i hope i did it justice! reader is vaguely asian-coded by accident (though there shouldn’t be any direct references to r's appearance!) lmao happy AAPI heritage month to all my fellow asians

masterlist

The day after your breakup, Steve shows up at your house with a bag of takeout and a six-pack. He kicks off his shoes at the front door while you’re in the kitchen, already grabbing napkins and chopsticks. The light on the floral rice cooker on the counter just turned from cooking to keep warm. Steve is nothing, if not right on time. 

To most people, the situation would seem peculiar. But you and Steve were best friends before your break up and you had promised that you would stay best friends after it. 

You settle in on opposite sides of the worn-down loveseat, a rerun of Golden Girls playing on the television. You’re just about to ask him if he remembered to get extra sauce for the chow mein when Steve, seemingly anticipating your question, silently hands you a small cylindrical container. 

The night goes on as it usually would, with Steve lamenting Keith’s tyranny and Dustin’s antics. He helps you clean up when you’re done, scooping the leftover rice into a Tupperware container saying I gotta get myself one of these, it’s so convenient! He even does the dishes, washing while you dry, never commenting on the fact that you have a perfectly good dishwasher that you never use. 

Once he’s standing in the entryway, shoes back on and keys in hand, he instinctively leans in for a chaste kiss goodbye. 

You flinch, turning your cheek at the last second. The moment becomes a sobering reminder as to why you decided to break up in the first place. Instinct over time starts to feel like routine. Routine over time starts to feel like a chore. Another thing that you have to cross off your to-do list.

For a while, it was grounding. It felt good to be normal. Normal felt like warmth, like coming in out of the freezing cold and cozying up next to a blazing fire. But you knew from experience that the cold always comes back. As the days drew darker, the once roaring hearth settled into a pile of ashes. Being grounded can feel like being tied down. It’s only natural to want to break free. 

You didn’t realize freedom would feel like this. 

“Right.” Steve huffs out awkwardly, swinging his car keys around his index finger. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He shuffles out the door while you offer a weak goodbye. You know you’re letting the cold in by watching him as he gets into his car. You do it anyway. 

–

Steve and Dustin have taken to visiting you while you’re on shift at the coffee shop. You’re not sure why. The arcade next door seems much more fitted to their shared interests, but they still come and visit you all the same. Usually, when you come upon them, they’re standing on the other side of the till having a whispered conversation that dies the moment they notice you’re there. 

“A latte for me, and hot cocoa for the kid.” Steve says, ruffling the younger boy's hair. 

“I’m fourteen!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Maturity. Did you want a coffee? I’m sure our girl over here has some great recommendations.” 

Dustin only grumbles in response, muttering insults under his breath. Steve refuses your offer to comp their drinks, paying and dropping his change in the tip jar.  

You set both drinks down on the counter when they’re done. One is a simple steaming cup. The other is piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles, decorated with a tiny plastic snowman left over from the holidays. 

“Thank you,” Steve says, leaning against the counter. “Y’know, you’re my most favorite barista in the whole world.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only barista you know, but you’re welcome.” 

“So, would you be interested in movie night tomorrow?” 

“Wow, let me think.” You feign contemplation, sarcasm dripping from every word. “I’ll have to check my schedule. I have a meeting with some venture capitalists but I might be able to squeeze you in.”

“It’s a date.” 

“So… you guys are back together?” Dustin darts a confused glance between the both of you, his irises going back and forth as if watching a ping-pong match. 

“No!” You and Steve both blurt out at the same time. Then you both take a moment to look at each other as if to say, I know why I said no but why are you saying no? 

Is it really over?

Dustin, as observant and tactless as ever, gives off a little shrug. You mutter something about needing to go to the back to do inventory. As you’re walking away, you hear Steve say something that sounds a lot like Nice going, doofus!

–

Dustin answers the door when you ring the bell. Steve’s house has the usual suspects for movie night. Max and El are cuddled up together on the floor, practically laying on top of each other. Robin and Nancy are on the loveseat to the left, so wrapped up in each other that they barely even register your arrival. You presume that the sounds coming from the kitchen are Mike, Will, and Lucas, no doubt making one too many bowls of popcorn in the microwave.  

Steve is sitting, his arm draped over the back of the couch. Before, there would’ve been no questions as to where you would sit. The empty couch cushion practically had your name on it. You would’ve already bounded across the room and snuggled up to the boy that felt like home. 

You search the room for another option, but come up empty. Unless you want to pointedly avoid sitting next to him by crashing on the floor with the kids, which would undoubtedly draw attention to the very thing you want to ignore. 

Taking a seat next to Steve, you toe the line between platonic distance and romantic distance.

“What’s on tonight?” You ask no one in particular. 

“The Princess Bride.” Lucas replies, coming from the kitchen with a bowl of fresh popcorn. 

He barely gets a chance to put it down before the three other boys tumble onto the floor and begin shoveling the savory snack into their mouths. Max and El whine about their lack of civility, yelling at them for having spilled popcorn on the floor before the movie has even started.

“Ah, that’s my favorite!” 

“I know.” Steve finally speaks up beside you. 

“We’ve only seen it like a million times.” Max says, rolling her eyes and resting her head on El’s shoulder. 

“Hey! Little shits who eat my food and use me as a taxi service don’t get to complain about my movie choices.”

“Whatever, Steve.” The redhead remarks, with an unmistakable fondness in her voice. 

You settle into your seat. The January cold has seeped into the house and, despite the heating being on full blast, you’re freezing. Steve notices, tugging the comforter in his lap over your frame, enveloping you in a warmth you didn’t realize you missed so much. You murmur a quiet thank you that you’re almost sure goes unheard until he turns, giving you a small smile before returning his attention to the screen. 

In order to properly share the blanket, you have to scoot in even closer. You tell yourself that it’s a perfectly reasonable platonic distance, that you used to do this all the time before you were dating. If Steve is experiencing even a fraction of your inner turmoil, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps looking ahead, paying far too much attention to the film. The palm that would usually come to rest upon your shoulder stays gripping the back of the couch. 

Sometime after Buttercup and Wesley enter the forbidden forest, you fall asleep.

It’s hard to make out anything through the dense fog. The trees around you loom large, foliage so lush and thick that it blocks out the sky, making it unclear if it’s day or night. The only light source comes from an oil lamp. 

The lamp casts a shadow over the face of the person holding it, emphasizing his strong brow and straight nose. You go to move toward Steve, but you can’t. You’re stuck. Ankle deep in sand, coarse and with the consistency of molasses, that slowly creeps up higher and higher. It takes you a moment to realize; the sand isn’t getting higher, you’re getting lower. 

You’re sinking. 

Desperately, you begin grasping at anything and everything that might get you out. It’s futile. The more you move, the further you fall. You’re waist-deep now. Steve is still standing there, stone-faced, oil lamp flickering. He turns, walking into the fog and taking the light with him. 

You open your mouth, wanting to scream. Needing to scream. But only one word echoes throughout. It does nothing to stop Steve’s retreating figure. 

Stay. 

“Hey,” Steve is tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. “Wake up.” 

The fog dissipates. Feeling slowly returns to your limbs. The first thing you realize is that you fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder. The second thing you realize is that, due to your impromptu nap, the distance between the two of you is practically nonexistent. You recoil, sliding yourself as far away from him as you can. Steve flinches at the sudden movement. 

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft and comforting, like a childhood blanket that you can’t sleep without. “It seemed like you were having a bad dream.”

You blink your eyes furiously, trying to shake the sinking feeling that has settled deep into your stomach. 

“Where is everyone?” You ask, avoiding his question. The once lively living room is now empty. Remnants of movie night surround you in the form of stray pieces of popcorn and a nearly empty tub of Red Vines. 

“They all went home about twenty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed so comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake you.” He shrugs, saying the next words gently. “Are you having nightmares again?” 

Before, you would tell him yes. You always talked to Steve about your nightmares. Most of the time he was there to witness them firsthand, waking up to your shouting and thrashing. Some nights, he would be able to coax you back to sleep with soothing words and tender touches. Other nights, he would stay up with you for hours, talking about nothing. The next day, the deep bags etched under his eyes would serve as another reminder of just how tiring you could be.

“I’m fine.” You wipe the corner of your mouth, cringing at the slight dampness you find there. Great. Not only did you fall asleep on Steve but you also drooled on him. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”

Leaping from the couch, you get to the foyer in record time. Your shoes are already halfway on before Steve appears, standing in between you and the door. 

“You don’t have to. You know the guest room is always made up for you if you want it.” He bargains. 

“I— I have to go. I’m sorry. Goodnight Steve.” 

“Please, you’re tired. At least let me drive you.” He’s practically pleading, already moving to grab his car keys.  

“Just let me go, Steve!” Your outburst echoes throughout the empty house. 

Steve takes a step back away from you. “I’m sorry.”

Regret washes over you like a tidal wave. You can feel yourself being ripped under the current. You curse yourself, not for drowning, but for dragging Steve down with you. 

“No, don’t apologize. Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—” 

“Have to go?” He supplies. 

He sounds dejected like this is another battle with you that he’s already resigned himself to losing. You fumble through another apology, another goodbye.

You don’t dare to look behind you as you make your way to your car. It isn’t until you’re halfway down your street that you spare a glance at your rear-view mirror. Steve is still standing there, the door wide open. 

You don’t know why you keep having dreams where you ask Steve to stay. 

You’re the one who is always leaving. 

—

“She was totally flirting with you!” You scream whisper, keeping in mind that the diner is mostly empty aside from the loyal patrons that come in every weekday for a hearty serving of beef and potatoes.

Steve showed up to the coffee shop today, sans Dustin, asking if you’d like to grab a bite to eat after your shift. You obliged, hoping to make up for your outburst from the other night. He still hasn’t mentioned it. For your sake, you hope that he won’t.

“No, she wasn’t.” You thought Steve’s obliviousness when it came to romance only extended to you. Apparently, you were wrong because he was completely ignoring the way that the waitress was batting her eyelashes at him.

“Yes, she was!” You take a fry from the basket and Steve pushes his strawberry milkshake toward you, already knowing that you were going to subject him to the gross combination and he might as well get it over with. “Y’know, if you wanted to ask her out you could. Don’t let me hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back. Anyways, isn’t it weird, having your ex-girlfriend be your wingman?”

“I’m still your best friend. Besides, you totally helped me out with Brandon so I just thought I’d return the favor.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, causing you to furrow your brow at him. Despite having loved him for a long time and having known him for even longer, his inability to read a room knows no bounds. 

“Last week at Family Video?” You utter the words with slow precision, but recognition fails to make its way across Steve’s face. “Brandon Clayborn asked you for horror movie recommendations and you sent him to me.”

“And he asked you out?” Steve gapes at you from over the rim of his milkshake. The idea of grabbing the glass and slogging the pink confection at him crosses your mind, but instead, you clench your fists at your side. 

“Is that so unbelievable?” At your response, Steve’s brows pinch together. He toys with the wrapping paper of his straw, folding it over and over again. 

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Oh.” Steve finally stops fiddling with the piece of paper. It’s shredded to pieces in a pile in front of him. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the bulging leather wallet. “I’ll be right back.” 

With that, Steve slides out of the booth and walks up to the counter. The giggles of the waitress can be heard throughout the diner. You turn toward the window so that you don’t have to see her scrawl her number on the receipt, and you catch your muddled reflection. You don’t know if you look like you’ve seen a ghost or if you’ve become one. 

–

Due to unforeseen circumstances, your second date with Brandon had to be rescheduled. A literal rain check. He’d sputtered out numerous apologies over the crackling phone line, saying how the picnic he had planned didn’t account for a torrential downpour. You promised him that it was fine, that you didn’t even wanna leave the house in this weather. You didn’t think anyone would want to leave the house in this weather, which is why you grew shocked at the sound of the doorbell ringing. 

Then you promptly remember that this is Hawkins and that anyone or anything could be behind that door. Grabbing the old wooden bat you keep under the couch for emergencies, you inch toward the door. The frantic ringing of the bell matches the beat of your heart. Peering through the peephole, you sigh in both relief and frustration before flinging the door open.

“Are you insane?!” You practically scream at the soaking wet boy. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Steve stands in the threshold, shaking his head like a dog would to get all the water out. You flinch as the droplets inevitably fall on you. The fine mist and wind that he’s brought in with him chill you to the bone. 

“Sorry.” He smiles sheepishly.

“How did you even manage to get this wet in the twenty feet from the street to the porch?” You ask, peering behind him to look for the familiar maroon vehicle. It isn’t there. 

“I walked here.”

You balk at him. Sure, Steve has been known to act recklessly from time to time, but never without reason. Instead of taking the time to berate him for being so stupid, you take one look at the soggy shivering boy and shut the door, turning on your heel towards your bedroom. You don’t need to look behind you to know that he’s following you. 

“C’mon, you’re gonna catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes.”

You rummage through your drawers, managing to find a t-shirt and sweatpants that you had stolen from him long ago. Now is as good a time as any to give it back, right? Stuffing the items in your arm, you thrust them into Steve’s hands and direct him to the bathroom. He doesn’t need direction. He knows the floorplan of your house just like he knows you–all too well.

While Steve is in the bathroom, you go to shut the drawers that you had left open in the rush to find him something to wear. The bottom drawer has always had a problem, getting stuck at the most inopportune moments. Lifting it just a little, you slam the drawer back into place which causes the contents on top of your dresser to shake with the force. The silver picture frame falls on its face and you go to place it right side up. 

It’s a photograph of the two of you from last summer. Robin had pointed the camera at you and at the very last second Steve grabbed you and placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to squeal in delight. The memory stings. You almost want to put it face down again so that you don’t have to be reminded of what once was. Instead, you’re interrupted by the sound of a lock turning and quiet footfalls on carpeted floors. 

The moment Steve steps into your bedroom, you’re drenched in nostalgia. It’s been months since you’ve seen him like this–standing in his pajamas in your bedroom. It’s moments like this that are the hardest. The ones where you can feel how everything and nothing has changed. It feels like relief and restriction. 

You realize you’re still standing in front of the dresser and go to sit on your bed. You need to put space between you and Steve. He has this insane gravitational pull and you know that if you stay around him like this for too long, you’ll end up back in his orbit.  

He steps cautiously around the room like he’s afraid of stepping on a landmine. One wrong move and everything could blow up. Standing in front of the dresser, he takes the dreaded picture frame into his hands. He’s still using a towel to dry his hair when he finally speaks. 

“It’s a good picture.” He says, simply. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the layer of dust that coats your sunbleached faces. 

“It is.” You manage to choke out. “Why are you here, Steve?”

He places the picture frame back down on the dresser. It’s perfectly angled towards you. The ghost of your smiling face taunting you in your own bedroom. 

“It’s funny, y’know?” Steve lets out a mirthless laugh.  

“What is?”

“We broke up and the only person I wanna talk about it with is you.”

All of the air has been sucked out of the room. Steve has always been good at taking your breath away. 

“I mean, I get it. I get why we broke up. I do.” He lets out a deep breath before continuing on, not giving you a chance to interrupt. “Except, I don’t. I can’t wrap my head around how one day we were fine and the next day we weren’t. I know that I’m not good enough for you–I’ve always known that. I guess I just wanna know when you finally figured it out.”

His words make you ache. A tightness blooms in your chest and spreads all the way down your arms to your trembling fingertips. You want so badly to reach out to him. He’s on the other side of the room but he might as well be on the other side of the world. You don’t know how to bridge the ravine that you’ve put between the two of you. You know for him you’d make the leap, uncaring of the abyss below. The thought scares you so much that your fists tangle in your bedsheets, hoping for something to keep you from falling back in.   

“The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you weren’t good enough for me. You’ve always been good enough, Steve.”  

You can tell from the shake of his head that he doesn’t believe you. 

“I thought that maybe you just needed a little space, a little time. Then I have to watch you go on dates and move on like it’s easy. Like the fact that we’re not together anymore doesn’t eat you up inside.”

“It’s not easy! It’s killing me!” Tears collect in your eyes, blurring your vision. “I don’t know why I can’t just be happy with you. I want to be happy with you.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Steve begs, his question punctuated by a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning. 

You found solace in the eye of the storm. Once the storm passed, you didn’t know what to do with the wreckage. Calm didn’t provide comfort. Instead, it only reminded you that there was likely another storm to come. Steve has always been better at picking up the pieces and patching things up. You didn’t want to become just another thing he had to fix. So, you pushed him away. 

He still came back.

This time he brought the storm with him. 

“I’m afraid that the minute I actually enjoy everything, it’ll all get taken away from me.” You confess, roughly wiping away your tears. 

Steve crosses the room and kneels in front of you. His hair is still slightly damp, a stray strand hanging in front of his forehead. You brush it out of the way and he catches your wrist, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He murmurs, lips still brushing your skin. He says it like a promise. You wish the words were tangible, that you could close your fist around them and hold them close. “Tell me what I can do to fix it.”

The words simultaneously endear and exasperate you. Here is this boy who loves you, sitting in front of you telling you to let him love you. Here you are, about to tell him that he can’t. 

“What if you can’t fix it, Steve? What if I’m unfixable?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. 

“Then I’ll still love you anyway.” 

Steve looks up and the clouds part. You’ve been so caught up in your doom and gloom, that you’d forgotten what it felt like to see the light of day. You lean down, closing your eyes, pressing your forehead to his. 

“Why?” The question comes out watery and wanting. 

“I can’t help it.” He breathes out. 

You understand the feeling. 

You bridge the gap, uncaring of the abyss that lies below. You’d fall through eternity if it meant you got to do it with him. His lips feel exactly like you remember them–like home. He kisses soft and slow, hands anchored at your hips as if to prevent you from floating away. When you break apart, both of you gasping for air, there’s uncertainty in his eyes. It fades away as soon as you lean back on the bed, pulling at his sleeves and dragging him with you. 

The night is composed of soft apologies and even softer sighs, accompanied by the din of rain against the roof. It isn’t until far into the night that the storm finally subsides, leaving the pavement to glow in the morning sun. 

Waking up next to Steve is a revelation. You don’t know how you ever survived without it. He’s all sleepy smiles and tired eyes, drowsily pulling you closer to him. Resting your head on his chest, you’re soothed by the rhythmic thump of his beating heart.   

“Y’know, you didn’t have to walk in the rain just to say that you wanna get back together. You’re so dramatic.” You joke, hoping that it isn’t too soon to start poking fun. 

His chest rumbles with laughter, the reverberations quelling your fears.

“In my defense, it wasn’t raining when I started walking.” He says, voice still thick with sleep. “Besides, you love it.”

You smile contentedly to yourself, not offering up a response besides a hum of agreement. He’s right. You do love him. Rain or shine.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

[coffee-flavored-mochi]

best voltron fics i've found on ao3:

(in no particular order, just ones i like)

(also most of these are klance btw)

-"Fighting the Surface" by tommino

-(klance)hurt!lance and a little hurt!keith. tw near character death and also tw drowning. super good fic, pretty emotional, not too long of a read, less than 20k words.

-"nothing's quite as sweet" by dimple for your thoughts

-(klance) literally the cutest slow burn klance fic. it's only 50k words, but its literally just a cute barista!keith and cat shelter worker!lance fic and i love it. a little bit of hurt/comfort, but nothing too bad.

-"you never stood a chance" by kagshina

-(klance) cute little college fic where lance falls for keith. only 12k words, warning for a bit of second hand embarrassment lol.

-"The Marks We Make" by wittyy_name

-(klance) another college fic, also a soulmate au! kind of a long one (over 250k words) but such a cute slowburn. also has super cute artwork by sora linked into the fic. one of my absolute faves <3<3

-"Shut Up and Dance With Me" by wittyy_name

-(klance) another amazing fic by wittyy_name (an amazing author, pls check out all their fics) a cute little enemies-to-lovers dance!au, also around 250k words. need to give this one a re-read since it's been a while, but overall an amazing fic and i love it so much!

-"Nightmares" by Trashness

-(klance) amazing little one-chapter fic abt keith and lance sharing the same bed due to nightmares (as the title suggests). only around 15k words, so a short little read, but it's a very good read!

-"call me, beep me" by orphan_account

-(klance) cute little wrong number!au where lance accidentally texts a wrong number (keith) and then they fall in love 😈 its 85k words and a bit of a slow burn, and i'm pretty sure it's the voltron fic with the most kudos on ao3!

-"O Come Let Us Adore Him" by Bandity

-(no ships) this one isn't a klance fic, but is def a heavy hurt!lance fic. tw for manipulation, hallucinations, non-con, eating issues, and some other things. i like this one a bunch because it not only shows the bad shit lance goes through, but the aftermath as well. less than 35k words but a really great story overall.

-"Looking Death in the Eye" by IcyPanther

-(no ships) okay so this one isn't a klance fic either but it is honestly an amazing one and doesn't get the recognition it deserves. it doesn't have any ships or anything, but is about lance having to save the entire team during a sick game a random villain lures them into. i love fics about torturing my favorite characters (like lance) and this one does that so so so well. pls give it a read 🙏🙏 also its only 16k words so you can read it super fast!!

[kickis-conan-king]

I like to think that in a modern au, if Keith had any kind of social media, it would be a little bit like one of those accounts where you go “is this guy just really committed to the bit or is he just Like That?” Like his instagram account would be full of nothing but reels where he sets the phone camera down after staring silently into it, walks far enough away that his whole body is in shot and does like, ten backflips before the video just abruptly ends with him still in motion. Another video where he walks around town with a ton of little throwing knives and it’s just a montage of footage of him lodging them into billboards and signs and other random hard to reach places. A lot of his videos are taken in the dark at indiscernible locations with nothing but the flash too bright and distorting his face, his eyes flashing like a raccoons in the brightness, and those videos are the rare times he speaks in his vids but it’s always something like “if life has to include suffering then how come it’s minor shit. I’d rather be miserable in a big way that is kinda badass then go through one more awkward conversation with a barista.” His most normal videos are of his dog just zooming around (no commentary or caption) and just. Footage of his legs dangling from absurdly high places with beautiful views.

Lance just randomly comes across his account while scrolling through his Instagrams suggested reels and immediately becomes OBSESSED with xxjustkeith.xx4510fu. At first Lance thinks it’s a meme account, some kind of bit but then the more he watches the less sure he is. He kinda can’t believe someone That good looking would make anything other then thirst content. He spends hours scrolling the account. He starts to wonder if maybe this guy is a serial killer or something. Then he notices in one of the videos that…hang on…he recognizes that place. And that too. And holY SHIT they totally live in the same town!!! So under one of the videos he comments something obscure but that is undeniably From Their Town, basically calling this guy out on where he lives without doxxing him.

Keith immediately dms him like. Who the fuck are you and what do you want. Lance is like teehee hi uh. I think you’re insane 🥰🤪😉. And Keith is like meet me at x spot at x time for a fistfight. And Lance is like hell yeah brother, writes his last will and testament (a text to hunk) and goes to meet this unhinged hottie who literally said they were going to fight. So they meet up and like. Keith is how he is, kind of mostly just awkward and shy with an inclination for feral hobbies and knuckle first thinking and Lance is how he is all chatter and bravado and challenges and charm and so. The do spar a little bit but once they’re both breathless they just go get coffee and talk.

And after that in all of Keith’s videos there are snippets of someone chattering in the background, tan legs dangling just out of frame, a dude who does backflips with him, someone cheering or whining saying “let me try 😞 Keith hey. Let me try.” When he walks around throwing knives. A dude who is otherwise not mentioned anywhere or tagged in anything.

All the people who are fans of Keith account for its adventurous and surreal humor start speculating in the comments. Eventually Keith gets fed up and posts a video reply to the comments.

It’s in selfie mode. It a beautiful day, and him and Lance are side by side. Wherever they’re sitting it’s up high. A breeze ruffles their hair. Keith looks straight into the camera and says completely monotone. “This is Lance. He’s my boyfriend.” Lances silent shock gets cut off by the video ending (he did not know they were dating.)

[thefuzzzz]

Klance college AU where Keith is an art student who takes to doodling the local barista (Lance) for his gesture drawing sketches that are due every week. Lance who knows about the cute art student who draws him every week and takes extra care to look presentable the days he knows he’ll come in. Keith who gets to fall in love with Lance by studying him and Lance who gets to fall in love with Keith by falling into routine with him.

Is this an original idea? No, not really. Am I going to think about it for a month? Yes. Yes I am.

[autisticlancemcclain]

any specific headcanons regarding lance and keith when they are on their first date? 👀

sorry that this ask is Eight Months Old, but yes actually!!!

- they don’t realise their first date is a first date. bc they are Doofuses

- the date in question is at the space mall for a supply run, where they were sent as punishment for being annoying and obnoxious

- since they are forbidden from reentering the castle for Five Business Hours (pidge proposed eight years, which they all seconded until keith winked at lance, mouthed “watch this”, and then sniffled about never being allowed to stay with a family for long after which they immediately relented), they decide to fuck around before getting any stuff they actually needed

- the first stop is at this space value village whereupon they immediately, without words, sprint off to find the most obnoxious and horrible outfit they can (heaven forbid they not compete about One Single Thing) (this is why they were banished) (lance won)

- they walk around a thousand other places. the mall is super crowded so at one point lance starts gripping keith’s jacket (bc he’s scrawny and at one point he got caught on the armour of a random stranger and literally got Hauled Up And Away before the stranger noticed 💀) and without thinking over time keith shifts so lance is holding the crook of his elbow and he just doesn’t let go

- neither of the dumbasses realise

- at one point they’re at this random trinket store, and lance gasps rly loud at something randomly and drags keith towards what ends up being some really fancy intricate and badass knives. keith gets rly super emotional and lance teases him about getting emotional over knives but the truth is that he got teary bc of just how excited lance was to show keith something he knew keith would like

- for lunch they go to the food court and sit in a booth and they sit pressed against each other and lance has his arm over the back of the booth and they literally split a meal and somehow Do Not Realise.

- they lose steam for shopping around hour four so they find a book store and lance finds a seat to chill with their stuff while keith zooms around and picks up a truly comical stack of books to come back and tell lance about

- lance stops at the cafe briefly to grab he and keith and drink and the barista smiles at him and is like hey your boyfriend is rly cute. and lance is like haha he’s not my —

- cue realisation.

- so of course he grabs their drinks in a panic and waves keith over and he’s like dude. we have an issue

- and he explains it and keith is like Oh My God We Just Went On A Date

- by then their five hours are up so they go home and they are like. SO awkward. to the point the team is like looking between them and is thinking ??? tf happened

- they are like this for Several Days. until keith finally cracks and says hey go out with me for real

- lance agrees obviously

- so they try to do a Real Date on the castle (they’re too embarrassed to let the team know so they hunker down in a random room & have a picnic basically it’s all very sweet) but the thing is. the thing is that now that they are Aware this is a date they have no idea how to act

- they’re all red and blushy and they can’t look each other in the eye and if they so much as brush hands they’re stammering out an apology and they aren’t even talking they’re just eating in the most awkward silence known to man and they’re both just mortified

- they’re so awkward around each other for like two weeks. because they both realise that they’ve fully had crushes on each other for god knows how long and every stupid competition has been them pulling pigtails and everytime they fight it just bleeds homoerotic tension and there’s a reason they’re all weird after sparring, huh, and a million other things that are so obvious to every other living being except Dumbass A and Dumbass B

- eventually, though, the tension starts to bleed away and it mellows back out to exactly as they were before, except now they make out and shit and it’s awesome

- thing is their brand of whipped loser is so normal for them that no one else like. knows they’re dating. they just think that the pining has been knocked up a peg

- they literally date for like years before everyone finds out, at which point they’ve been sharing a room and living out of each other’s pockets for longer than they haven’t

[dorkiborkii]

do you have more fic recs because Dear Reader was fucking amazing

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626207

on ao3, barista au (barista keith) and lance works at a cat shelter across the street. it’s very cute and wholesome i love it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402426/chapters/28220805

childhood friend au, modern au, has eventual smut, the plot gets JUICY tho, love this one sm

[klanceficsthatmakemeripmyhairout]

i have impeccable taste and 29 bookmarks and i really recommend Poor Boys and Pilgrims by SirCumference on ao3. it's a gorgeous fic in which Keith sees him and Lance together in each of the three realities he gets glimpses of during his time in the whale.

dawg how did you know this is my exact niche of klance fanfic that i enjoy and i hope everyone else will enjoy

this is what im readin tonight !!!!!

poor boys and pilgrims by sircumference

rating: mature

published: 2019-03-03

completed: 2019-07-14

word count: 85,000

chapters as of may 22, 2024: [8/8]

summary: [ Keith doesn’t believe in fate. He doesn’t believe things happen for a reason, or that there is meaning to be found in every bad thing that’s happened to him. He also doesn’t believe he’ll ever be with Lance. But as he drifts through the abyss on the back of a space whale, he catches glimpses of other realities where he and his friend are inextricably tied despite forces beyond their control promising to tear them apart. 

Lance is sometimes a telepathic merman, sometimes a patron at a coffee shop, and sometimes an android serving a year-long sentence for pissing the wrong people off. Keith might be a sailor, or a barista, or a professional smuggler struggling to make ends meet. It’s fucking weird, honestly, but so is living in the Quantum Abyss. Keith tries not to let it get to him. It still does, though. He wonders how he could ever get over someone when he’s forced to watch himself fall in love with them over and over again. ]

[willowworkswithwords]

Good Morning Coffee – Seth Avett

-

Steve just couldn’t get a break, could he?

This customer was ridiculous, truly. They were gonna run out of sugar at the rate he was going, and they were a coffee shop. They ordered enough sugar to supply a whole neighborhood’s worth of sugar.

It was like each week he changed his order just so, adding a touch more or “oh yes please add whipped cream to that” (as if they hadn’t learned the first time that he absolutely needed whipped cream, even that one time he got a black coffee. Which, to be fair, made it not a black coffee).

Steve got the impression he was a funny guy, for all Robin laughed and laughed each time he came to the window. He made Steve wish they were the kind of coffee shop to ask for people’s names, or wish, for just a fleeting second once or twice a day, that he could hear well enough to actually take orders through the headset. And, damn him, this guy only came in during the morning rush and only through the drive thru. Steve didn’t really know anything about him, besides a guess at outrageous dentist bills and a glimpse or two of dark, curly hair piled in a  high bun.

So Steve just made this man’s coffee around eight o’clock every morning, and wondered.

- - -

“Steve, you’re squinting.”

“Shut up Robin, I’m fine.”

“Have you taken your meds yet?”

Steve turned his back to her, eyes focused on the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robin cross her arms.

“Steve, my beautiful friend. Take your medication.”

“Rob, really, I’m ok—”

Bells.

Steve turned around with a smile, launching into his spiel before he’d even fully turned around. And when he did, the words died in his mouth.

“Hello welcome to Groovy Gary’s—”

Dark curly hair. Silver rings. It was the sugar guy. He was. Wow. He was something else. He had tattoos, his outfit all black, piercings and bracelets and and and—

Reboot, Harrington, stop staring.

“Hi!”

Too chipper, Steve. Robin smothered a laugh from where she was covering the window, and Steve wanted to melt into the sticky floor.

“Hey there.” A shit-eating grin spread across his face and Steve was only sort of annoyed by it.

“How can I help you?”

Act natural Harrington, act natural.  He tried to lean against the counter and put his hand directly into the cup of stopper sticks. Sugar-guy saw. Shit he definitely saw. Steve cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows.

“I was coming in for a coffee.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to keep from rolling his eyes.

“A coffee? I don’t know, we might be low, I’ll have to ask Robin if we have any in stock.”

A shit-eating grin.

“You remember my order?”

“How do you know it’s me making it?”

Sugar-guy glances around behind the counter. It’s only Steve and Robin, as it’s almost always only Steve and Robin. Except on—

“Except on Thursdays. That grumpy guy makes mine on Thursdays.”

Steve laughs.

“Keith.”

“He hates me.” His voice is full of despair, and Steve laughs again.

“Wow, what are you gonna do? You’re not every baristas favorite customer.”

“Am I your favorite customer?”

Steve pretends to think, tapping his finger against his chin.

“Well man, you never get the same thing in a row, but your variations are definitely interesting.”

“You know my variations?”

Sugar-guy is looking at Steve up through his lashes, hair pulled across his mouth, barely hiding the grin.

“Do you only eat sugar?”

Another laugh.

“Hey, I order black coffee sometimes.”

“Dude, you order it with whipped cream. That’s not black coffee.”

A car horn blares outside the drive-thru window. Robin comes up on Steve’s right.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Steve, it’s Mrs. Click. She’s spitting mad already, which I don’t how that’s possible because it looks like she just rolled out of bed. They wrong side of the bed, maybe.”

“Oh Jesus, ok.” He turns to sugar-guy.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I never got your order.”

“Oh, nothing for me today. Got something for you.”

Steve tilts his head and automatically takes the things Eddie holds over the counter. With a wink Steve barely catches, sugar-guy’s walking out the door. Steve looks down at the…napkin? The folded napkin. He unfolds it.

Eddie Munson 432-9090

Steve doesn’t stop smiling all day.

[devooshawrites]

Too Sad to Make Crepes

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Pairing: Always Klance

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Keith often visits a creperie on his way to work because they make the best damn coffee in town. It doesn’t hurt that the sunny barista is gorgeous. Time goes by as Keith admires the barista from afar, never having the guts to do anything about it. Until one day when the cafe is closed with a sign that makes Keith green with envy, but more red with anger that he can’t get his coffee, his muffin, or his barista’s smile.

[shioaoi]

✨️ Fanfic Masterpost ✨️

Nancy & Ace [Nancy Drew]

Treading Water

Head Medicine

'Cause all I need (is the love you breathe)

And I must insist (that you haven’t had enough)

Melancholy

Observer

Enchanted

Preperation / Aftercare

Caitlyn & Vi [Arcane]

let the water run; [Caitlyn Focused]

touching her body while thinking of yours; [Vi Focused]

are we going to age with grace;

Daniel & Maura [1899]

Dilirious Solace

Luka & Kagami [Miraculous Ladybug]

Awaiting Clearer Skies

MJ & Peter [MCU]

Array of Starlight

Isn't it Lovely?

Wanda & Vision [MCU]

I'll be with you from dust till dawn

Gendry & Arya [ASOIAF / GoT]

Heartlines

Can I have this one last dance

Keith & Shiro [Voltron Legendary Defender]

All That Matters

Blake & Sun [RWBY]

Twinkling Lights

I write cheesy lines on your cup every time I'm your barista

Rantaro & Mukuro [Danganronpa]

You're looking like you fell in love tonight

Danganronpa

so easy in this blue

[thefictionshelf]

best era of the trypod since (if not superior to) the first 45. I live for the plog. Keith's mysterious light guy. It taking 45 minutes to get a coffee. The technical difficulties. The miscellaneous errands. The hot barista. Raine's roommate drama. we're back in a golden age babey

[klance-dreams]

KL AU — Rec by Job

(in progress) BARISTA See More: Coffee Shop AU DR/NURSE/EMT Orange Chrysanthemum by: moe20112233, Word Count: 17,901, Rating: T+, Summary: After a devastating car accident in which Lance is left paralyzed from the waist down he must adjust to his new life while bound to a chair. However with the help of Keith, New York’s best Physical Therapist, he may have a chance of walking…

[hunktheleg]

wish i could temporarily delete klance from my brain like im trying to analyze frantz fanons polemics of gender but theres a fucking worm in my brain thats like “what if keith was an unhinged starbucks barista and lance was a union rep trying to help him organize keiths location”