#coffee shop au

[redcrowncafe]

Canon Cafe Nari sold his tits to Genderbend Cafe Nari for $5.79.

He prolly gave em for free

[stargirlygirl]

the bird in me

hawks x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — bird mating drabbles, throwing up, you're a barista, fluff, sexual implications at the end, 3.5k words

a/n: this has to be one of my favourite works so far

regurgitation

it’s bad. every time he sees you, he can feel the churning in his stomach. something as simple as a smile or wave is enough to have his fist pressed to his lips, loudly clearing his suddenly tight throat.

every time you talk, he’s trying hard not to make a fool of himself (and failing miserably). he’s constantly ahem-ing or coughing, anything to push the rising bile back down his oesophagus.

he wills himself to be a man, to take the acidic burn with pride because he’s fortunate enough to be acknowledged by such a beautiful and intelligent girl. but by the five-minute mark, he’s excusing himself to the bathroom and throwing up this morning’s breakfast.

you thought he was just shy at first, but as it continues to happen, you begin to think he doesn’t like you.

the bell chimes as the café door swings shut. you gaze over the coffee machine, spotting those bright red feathers against the gloom of the night.

you take a deep breath in, rolling your eyes as you drawl, “we closed ten minutes ago, mr hawks.” a nervous laugh, your interest is piqued.

“i know, dove, but i wanted to see you,” he says confidently, only to clear his throat right afterwards.

your brow furrows, and you say more bluntly than intended, “well, i don’t know. you’re always trying to run away from me. your usual?”

“yes please,” he says, waltzing over to you. he rests his weight against the bench, watching you brew his double-shot cappuccino. ahem. he continues. “and i’m not trying to run away from you. never have—”

“doesn’t seem that way to me,” you cut him off. he coughs ostentatiously into his elbow, his face heating up from the sheer strength it’s taking to not throw up right now. he can’t help it!

you continue as you pour the thick foam into the takeaway cup, “you’ve only got few minutes for me before you’re dashing off. i mean i know you’re busy, but do you not have any better excuses? like, for a pro hero, you sure are shit at lying.” you’re glaring holes into the creamy milk as you shake chocolate powder on top of it.

you mumble, “if you don’t like me you can just say so.” the snap of the lid on the little paper cup echoes through the empty café. hawks hears his heart crack a little at your words. not like you? how could he not like you?! wasn’t it obvious—ahem!

he gasps, “bathroom?” you roll your eyes.

“at the back. hey!” your arms are raised as you glare after him, watching as he rushes to the bathroom.

you whisper-yell to yourself, “what the fuck?!” you slide his hot coffee to the edge of the bench and huff, fed up with his perplexing behaviour. if the night wasn’t so still, and the streets surrounding your tiny café so quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him violently throwing up in the men’s bathroom. but you do.

your eyes widen and then crinkle as you wince, wishing that such disgusting sounds weren’t ricocheting off the walls. you pull the bow of your apron loose and shrug it off, leaving it on a nearby table as you make your way to the bathrooms.

you hear the toilet flush as you body slam the heavy, olive green door open. white lights sting your eyes as you search for any sign of your most loyal customer. you find him resting against an open stall door, eyes closed, lips chapped, and forehead beading with sweat.

“mr hawks?” you say gently. his golden eyes shoot open and find you immediately. he smiles incredulously, and his voice is thick as he rasps, “this is the men’s ro—”

“shut the fuck up. are you okay?” you shift closer to him, but he moves back, calves hitting the toilet seat. you stop in your tracks, caging him in the small stall. his eyes dart to the side as he weighs up how to get out of the corner he’s backed himself into.

seeing his nervousness, you sigh. you turn and begin to walk out of the bathroom. he catches your elbow by the sinks and pulls you into his chest. you yelp as you hit his solid frame, utterly bewildered. his large hands gently squeeze your upper arms as you tilt your head up, gazing at him.

you mutter, “what is it?” he shakes his head, eyes dropping and unintentionally resting on your collarbone peeking out of your uniform. great, the pro hero thinks. that familiar sensation is reignited at the base of his throat.

he chokes out, “i-just give me a minute.” he let’s go of your arms and wanders back into the stall, shutting the door and bolting it this time. you groan, wrapping your arms around yourself as you listen to him throw up again, his chunky symphony amplified by these fuck ass tiles.

interjecting the flush of the toilet is the stall door slamming open. out strolls a lazily grinning hawks. he chuckles, “don’t tell me you have to clean in here.”

you sigh, “of course i do.”

he stops in front of you and shrugs, “then give me the mop and bucket and i’ll take care of it, alright?”

you shake your head, muttering, “look don’t worry about that. are you okay? what’s going on? you just threw up like twice. do you have food pois—”

“i feel great, actually. now, about what you were saying earlier,” he reaches out and takes your hands in his awfully clammy ones.

your shoulders slump as you huff, trying to pull your hands back. “hawks—”

“ya know, i really wish you would stop calling me that, dove.” he draws you in close, his body heat seeping through his clothes into you.

you retort, “and i really wish that you would stop interrupting me.” he opens his mouth, sucking in a breath as though he’s about to speak, and then he doesn’t.

the stifling air is quiet for a moment before the pro hero mutters, “sorry.” you shake your head as your mouth draws into a hard line. but you inevitably soften as he jerks away from you, coughing.

quietening down, he rasps, “i really like you, okay? i’m not trying to run away from you. quite the opposite, actually.” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, concerned that you can feel his heart jumping out of his chest. at least his stomach isn’t lurching anymore. he really did need that release.

seconds pass in tense silence as you wait for him to explain. he sighs, “i swear, y/n, i like you.”

“but,” you say, emphasising the ‘t’. he looks away from you, gathering his courage for what he’s about to say.

he breathes out, “don’t laugh, okay?” you nod, about to tear your hair out from the suspense. this man really knows how to dodge questions, you think.

“every time i see you… i wanna throw up.” he mutters that last part at the end as he gazes down at the minute crevices between your bodies.

your eyes widen as you exclaim, “you what?!” he grip tightens on your hands as he shakes his head fervently.

“because-um-it’s a bird thing. i wanna throw up because i like you, okay?” your mouth hangs half-open as you try to register his words.

he brings your hands to his lips and chastely kisses your knuckles. you stare at him in disbelief, stuttering, “i-it’s a bird thing? you-you wanting to throw up every time you see me?”

he nods, “technically, i want to regurgitate every time i see you. the bird part of me wants to prove to you that i’m a good partner.”

that night, you make sure he’s had some food and electrolytes before drinking his cold cappuccino.

preening

ever since you two started dating, it’s become a routine for kei to preen his feathers just before bed, and for you to simply sit across from him on the sofa, reading a book, scrolling on your phone, or watching him.

but tonight as you take up your usual spot on the couch, kei plops down next to you. he gently nudges your arm, catching your attention.

you mumble, “what is it, babe?” as you lock your phone. he kisses from your cheek to your jaw, earning an airy giggle from you.

he mutters into your skin, “will you preen my wings tonight?” your eyes widen as you let out a stuttered breath.

you pull back, saying nervously, “k-kei, honey, you sure? i’ve never preened anything before.” he hums as he slides off the couch and sits on the floor in front of you. he holds up a bottle of oil and you take it from him while explains how to preen his feathers.

you start with the feathers closest to his body and work your way out, from top to bottom. as your fingers work over his feathers, pulling debris from them and realigning the barbs, your bird boy hums.

you drop another piece of tarmac on the coffee table, saying, “you could hide a fucking road in here with how much rubble i’m pulling out right now.” kei chuckles and sighs, feeling you remove yet another remnant of today’s battles.

“are they always this dirty?” you question. your hero nods. it takes longer for you to preen him than if kei were to preen his feathers, but he appreciates your delicate and loving touch.

and the next night, he asks if you can preen his wings again. and soon, your routine has changed to you preening his feathers every night before bed.

gift-giving, scent marking, nesting

the cold winter nights warm and scrawny branches bloom with flowers, signifying that spring has arrived.

it was subtle at first, kei would bring home flowers for you every few days, claiming that his perfect girl deserved to be spoiled. and he claimed the same when he started making the most delicious dinners for you two every night, and when he started gifting you the most luxurious necklaces and shoes and bags you’ve ever owned.

when you woke up this morning, your bed sheets smelt of citrus. so fresh and divine, you sighed and rolled around, cocooning yourself in the quilt to get another whiff of that scent. you liked the smell so much that you got out of bed still wrapped up in the quilt, and dragged it around home with you all day (it’s your day off).

as kei closes the door behind him after another long day, you rush up to him, quilt left lonely. you throw yourself into his awaiting arms, sighing as his zesty scent washes over you. you sigh, melding your body against his as you inhale his musk.

he chuckles softly, “hey, dove. missed me, huh?”

you hum and mumble into his compression shirt, “you smell so good. since when did you smell like citrus though?” pulling back and pointing to the quilt on the sofa, you continue, “i thought you just bought some new laundry detergent or something.”

kei shrugs it off, claiming that he bought a new cologne (lies). but not before he draws you back into his arms and rubs the side of his face and neck all over your face and neck. sighing, you let him off the hook but resolve to keep an eye on him.

rummaging through his duffle bag, he says excitedly, "d'you wanna see what i got you, dove?" you press your lips together, disappointed by kei's spending habits lately. but not for long as he hands you a sealed box of the perfume you've been eying for years (it's vanilla2 by maison tahité for me).

you squeal in delight and thank him profusely, smothering his cheeks and lips and stubble with kisses before skipping off to your room to try your new perfume (kei rocks you gently as you have a cry over how blessed you are to have such an attentive partner).

for the next week, you swear you can hear shuffling in the early hours of the morning. as soon as you lift your head off the pillows though and search the dark room for some kind of movement, everything stills. you usually fall back asleep, but tonight is a bit different.

again, you wake to muffled sounds emanating from somewhere in your apartment. groaning, you bury your head into your pillow, only to rise from it a minute later when you hear a loud thud. roused from your sleepy daze, you get out of bed and caress the door frame for wayyy too long before you eventually find the light switch.

your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness quickly, and everything looks the same as it usually does. but something is missing. or rather, someone.

you step out of your shared bedroom and stare down the hall, seeing a familiar glow curling its fingers beneath one of the doors. as you approach it, you realise that the light is coming from kei’s office.

but it’s not just the light that is coming from his office. this sound, like something sliding against the floorboards, resonates from behind the wooden door.

you stand outside his office, leaning your ear against the door to eavesdrop. but the noise stops abruptly, as if kei (who you assume is inside) knows you’re right there.

you turn the doorknob and push the door open, revealing a dishevelled-looking kei amidst a heap of blankets. you blink at him dumbly, sleepily, and confused.

“kei,” you drawl. “what’re you doing?” he chuckles nervously as he stands from his crouched position and comes over to you, tripping on a blanket’s edge in the process. you catch his upper arms and help him to steady himself.

he gazes at you frantically, muttering, “’mnotdoinganythingchickpea. whydon’twegobacktobed?” his hands encircle your wrists and gently push you back toward the door. you shake your head.

“keigo takami,” you say in that serious tone parents reserve for when their child misbehaves. “what’re tryna hide from me?”

“nothing!” he exclaims far too loudly and quickly. you raise your brow at him while your eyes trail over his messy hair and half-unbuttoned pj shirt. you catch a glimpse of his toned muscles and golden-brown snail trail beneath the soft cotton. you gulp and avert your eyes to the mess behind him. he side steps, blocking your view.

you groan, “keigo.”

“please dove, promise i’ll show you later, okay?” he pleads.

you roll your eyes, sighing, “you cooking up a grand masterpiece or something back there?” he nods and hums. you let him have his way, following him back to bed and curling tight into his chest, hoping he won’t be able to get away without waking you.

for the next week, you’re banned from entering kei’s office. he claims that he’s working on a big surprise for you, which melts your heart and makes you laugh.

one night after dinner, he takes you by the hand and leads you to his office. dramatic as ever, he makes you close your eyes before he opens the door and guides you inside. when you open your eyes, you see the fruits of his efforts.

before you lies a little nook crafted out of throws and cushions. you giggle as you take in his little nest. it looks so cosy and inviting. 

you exclaim, “kei, this is so sweet!” you turn around and warmly hug him, content to nuzzle into his zesty scent. he kisses your forehead and nudges you closer to his nest. he holds your hand as you sit down in the centre of it, relishing in his overpowering musk. he sits next to you and cuddles with you, peppering your face and neck with tender kisses as he mumbles against your hot flesh how much he loves you.

interpretive dance and singing

it’s the peak of spring; the flowers are in full bloom, the skies are blue, and the temperature is just right for you to wear all your favourite dresses.

tonight is like most other nights. after preening kei’s feathers, you take a shower. you’re soothing moisturiser into your skin as your boyfriend comes into view. you gaze at him in the mirror, smiling brightly. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, ignorant of the damp towel enveloping your body.

pouring body oil into your palm, you tell him to move. but he doesn’t budge an inch. instead, he wipes the oil out of your palm and warms it in his rough hands. he caresses your shoulders, briefly massaging them before rubbing the oil into your back. his fingertips dip below the towel’s edge, earning a sigh from you.

you tilt your head back to look at your lover. he grins down at you and gently kisses you while wrapping his arms around yours and pulling you back into his firm body.

craving his sweetness, you turn around in his hold, cupping his cheeks and deepening the kiss. tongues swirl and ignite a buried fire in the pits of your stomachs.

kei’s hands roam your body as he sucks on your lower lip. such teasing touches have your towel slipping and eventually pooling on the bathroom floor. he grips your hips, squeezing them as he groans into your mouth.

you two separate for a brief moment, catching your breath and each other’s eyes. he gazes at you lustfully; he’s desperate to mould your body to his all night long, to make you his in the most intimate of ways.

your fingers trail up his exposed biceps before you wrap your arms around his neck. you draw him down to you, smirking as you whisper in his ear, “i know you want me, baby.”

he chuckles gruffly against your skin, the sound doing unholy things to you. his citrusy scent is intoxicating up this close. you breathe in deeply, his thick musk filling your lungs.

he rasps, “yea, i do. i want you so bad, dove.” you hum before nipping at his ear lobe. the small gesture sends a thrill of pleasure shuddering throughout his body.

kei should know this by now, but nothing comes for free. he’s seen the cruelty of this world, and even though you’re his escape from it all, he shouldn’t be as wide-eyed and breathless from your next words.

“oh yea? show me,” you whisper seductively. it’s like everything was dark before you spoke. and now that you have, the lights have been switched on. your words are like the gospel, true and calling him to action. and yet, they’re so impure. kei has been enlightened.

he steps back from you, the cool air wafting over your bare skin. your nipples harden as you bite your lip, looking at him nervously. your lover shakes his head, saying lowly, “meet me in the living room once you’re done.” you hum as you nod, rather intrigued by kei’s sudden change in mood.

when you’ve finally finished your post-shower routine, you head to the living room. your jaw slackens, and your brows raise as you enter, seeing the coffee table moved and couches pushed back to create space in the centre. you blink dumbly as he comes over to you.

he wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to one of the sofas, saying cockily, “take a seat, chickpea.” you follow his instruction, making yourself comfortable on the sofa while your boyfriend steps back. he catches your eyes, the look in his awfully serious.

you ask confused, “kei, what’s going on?” he shakes his head.

clearing his throat, he begins to sing. you blink at him dumbly as you register his sweet praises that are surprisingly on-key. he spreads his arms wide before rolling his wrists and body in time with his words. you grab the nearest cushion and hold it tight as your mouth hangs open.

your eyes are trained on his quick, rhythmic movements. he spins around and jumps, his voice never faltering. you shriek playfully as he locks eyes with you. his wings spread out to his sides, his beautiful feathers on full display. you can feel your face heating up, cooking beneath the heat of this moment.

you can’t stop staring at him, drinking in how good he is at interpretive dance. you shriek again as he slaps his thighs in a wide stance. your laugh is stuttered as you raise the cushion up, blocking your view of him.

his singing stops and in a moment, the cushion is snatched from your hands and hurled across the room.

he pants, “’m not done, dove. watch me.”

you stutter in disbelief, “n-not done?” he hums as he steps back, ready to continue his performance.

shaking your head, you exclaim, “kei, kei, it’s okay! you don’t have to keep going.”

he pouts, “don’t you like my dance? or my song?” you’re rendered speechless as you stare at him. he tilts his head toward you expectantly, but you can’t speak. you’re far too stunned by his musical display to say anything. the air shifts as he chuckles softly and steps toward you. he plops down on top of you, squishing you against the sofa.

he mutters into the crook of your neck, “did i show you have much i want you?” you groan from his weight as you thread your fingers through his hair.

you kiss his damp forehead, saying amusedly, “oh yea. i, uh, i liked that song you sang. what’s it called? ‘the bird in me’?” he bites your shoulder lightly, but the sudden sensation makes you gasp.

your hands are already shoving at his chest as he grunts sarcastically, “yea, it’s called ‘the bird in me’. i wrote it just for you, chickpea.” he raises his head and pulls off you a little, giving you a bit of breathing room. your chest rises high, grazing his as you take in the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“now, let me have my reward.”

[lemoncakethehedgehog]

Sonadow coffee shop AU, except the coffee shop is run by Stone.

(This is not the movie universe.)

Shadow’s gonna be co-president of the homeless hedgehog club.

[saddumas]

It was so great that I already want to reread it

I've been off the face of the earth for a while. But now I'm sorta back with a piece for my first ever SuperbatBigBang.

I'm fortunate to work with the wonderful vesper_house and maple_dc karen (also known as askhungryeren here on tumblr) on a superbat coffee shop au (which for some bizzare reason is almost none-existence). I love coffee shop au, so I was very excited to work on this.

It's the first time I work on something this big entirely on digital so perspective may be a bit off. And I'm sh*t with background, but I tried my best.

b/c of some unfortunate reason, even I haven't seen the full fic yet. So, I'll be seeing it for the first time with you all as well.

Vesper_house's fic On the Cusp is here

As for Karen's art, I will get back to you on that.

Enjoy!!!

[toadettely]

Skill & Spill: Coffee Shop AU

I've been awfully quiet lately so let me just drop some notes for my Coffee Shop AU (which I call Skill & Spill for now. The Cafe is called "King's Roast" :3)

King of Soph and Tcvern3 centric cuz I can and love them ^-^

• Vernias and Brent work there and Eevee and Nick are regular costumers

• Eevee and Nick are friends already and hang out together a lot

• Brent sometimes takes night shifts (no one likes to take them because it's boring but Brent doesn't mind and it fits his schedule + it's chill and kinda free money)

• plus the cafe has like very good free wifi!! (Thanks to him)

• Brent and Vernias always biker when they work together.

• Brent always looks sleep-deprived while Vernias looks ready to yap to the costumers with a bright smile that is kinda contagious and lights up the entire cafe

• Brent is literally the CEO of eyerolls (idk why, he just seems always annoyed without intending to)

• Nick always enters the shop like he owns it and makes his presence known instanly if Vern and / or Brent are working ("HELLO FELLAS"😎🤗)

• Nick literally orders the same drink all the time (and it is one that Vernias himself made up for the Menu)

•^ Brent fucking despises it and makes it known all the time as he hates on it specifically

• Sophist and Brent play marvel rivals together online/see each other often in online games, but don't know each other irl (they see each other in the cafe but don't know they are the person they play with online. I stole this idea from the anon that send the ask because I LOVE it!! all credit to you anon!! This inspired a lot of this fic and King of Soph's relationship in it)

•^ I have so much to add to this but to put it short: Brent is a strategic try-hard and Eevee plays chaotically risky but they kinda are a very strong duo - but also often share one braincell (which is noticeable in the game-chats and sometimes when they do stupid / random stuff in-game)

• Sophist has a fav cake he orders often

• They are allowed to take leftovers home because the Cafe never throws stuff away and Vern gifts some baked goods/cake etc. to friends

• After Brent and Sophist become friends irl, Brent always takes leftovers from Sophist' fav cake home to give it to him (love language? Also huge contribution to Sophist catching feelings for Brent)

•^ spending time with Brent when they become friends irl helps Sophist' mental health significantly (ref to canon because I can)

• Brent loves to keep things neat and tidy in the cafe

• Vernias hates cleaning up but he loves organising/decorating stuff

• there is a silly pick up line on every cup Vern hands to Nick

• Eevee has an unhealthy caffeine intake (Vern and Brent are concerned) + his nightly coffees become more frequent over time (maybe also to see Brent)

• Vern doing art on the cappuccinos/latte with lots of care and love (Brent standing next to him and, rolling his eyes, telling him to "take your time, dude.")

• Nick's tip are very generous

•^ Vern liked it at first but when he notices that Nick is doing it on purpose so he can see, Vern starts to plafully roll his eyes whenever he tips.

• Brent being very interested in technology has resulted in him taking care of anything in regards to it in the cafe. The others often would be lost without him. Brent wonders how they managed anything before.

• Brent unironically loves the smell of freshly ground coffee beans

• Vern is responsible for the chalkboard menu (very colourful with some cute doodles like stars and cakes and coffee)

• Vern supports local artists as he suggested to hang some of their Art on the walls of the shop.

[biowaredisasterbisexual]

When you’re unhinged enough, you can write a first chapter of an AU you were only idly considering yesterday in a single day. Y’know, rather than working on your other WIPs.

Well, at least I wrote something. 😅

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Dead Tired Coffeeshop Accident

For one reason or another, Danny is now living in Gotham and working in a coffeeshop. For one reason or another, Tim frequents the same coffeeshop.

Now, both of them are honest to god messes who treat sleep like a grave enemy. Meaning they both survive on coffee, spite, energy drinks, and their respective hyperfocuses.

They don't even talk, really, they just see each other from time to time: Tim knows the barista who looks like he's been dead for weeks is named Danny, and Danny knows how to make Tim's Death Wish with his eyes closed, but other than that, they are just strangers who largely don't care about each other.

That is, until one time after his patrol, Tim comes to the said coffeeshop in his Red Robin gear. He doesn't even think about it, he simply needs coffee. He comes to the counter. He orders. His voice is tired and emotionless. He just wants his coffee and maybe stare at a wall for a few hours until his brain reboots. Danny takes his order without even looking at him. He has been sitting and staring at a wall for a few hours, night shifts are literally killing him.

They are both so done.

Red Robin waits for his coffee. Danny makes it almost automatically, his mind elsewhere. The coffeeshop is empty, save for them two. It's four in the morning. Nothing feels real.

Danny sets the cup on the counter.

"One Death Wish for Tim," he says out of a habit, not fully registering they are alone, and he doesn't need to do that.

Tim takes the coffee without thinking, nods a silent 'thank you'. Brings the cup up to his mouth-

And notices a glove on his own hand.

He is in Red Robin get up.

He freezes and looks at the barista, who is cleaning the coffeemachine. Danny, noticing him looking, also looks back at him. Did he make the wrong order? He knows Tim's soul, he's seen it a lot, he couldn't have mistaken him for anyone else, but maybe he forgot to add syrup?..

There's a domino mask on Tim's face. A vigilante domino mask.

They stare at each other. No one moves. No one blinks. The sun is rising somewhere over the city.

Tim takes a sip of his coffee. Danny goes back to cleaning the coffeemachine.

They never speak of this again, but Tim becomes a regular here in both of his personas.

[tamaytsuki]

Lance stop flirting with the barista

[midluuna]

Fairy Leshy hehhe

[ahresprite]

flower x coffee shop au ☕️💐

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So this was inspired by the coffee shop au that really popular amount Danny x Tim Fics

So Jazz is off to collage, but the moment she passes the amity border, she trips the silent alarm and the GIW fakes a car accident. She’s never seen again.

Danny knows better.

Tucker temporarily disables the alarm so Danny can leave Amity Park, live his life and get help.

Danny is quick to find out that he can’t find Amity anymore. It’s in an entire blackout. He went to the location where it was last only to find entire entire town gone with no trace of even existing

Danny moves to Gotham and get the night and afternoon shift for a cafe and meets Tim Drake. They end up dating when they both turn 18 and the next few months are peaceful.

One night, Danny is on shift, it’s two am and he’s joined by Tim (and other bats if you want)

The door jingles open, and everyone is wondering who’s entering at 2 am.

Meanwhile, Danny is frozen.

It’s Ellie.

She comes up to the counter and orders like nothing it wrong and like she are Danny are complete strangers instead of siblings who haven’t seen each other since their older sibling went missing.

Tim is very confused. His boyfriend definitely knows the 16 year old that just walked in, but isn’t saying anything about her (Tim doesn’t know about the ghosts and stuff)

Danny give Ellie her order and she tell him that Jazz is alive and the GIW has her.

Danny and Ellie vanish from Gotham the next morning after Danny’s shift.

Any media is welcome as long as you tag and comment. I might even write the scene I described if you guys want :)))

[redcrowncafe]

*places leshy in front of a sun lamp to help with his SAD*

BRO YOU'RE STANDING TOO CLOSE

[puppyaulait]

Coffee shop AU

[lemmeurs]

charthur coffee shop au!!!!! yeah yeah!!

this idea hit me recently and once i saw the vision of barista charles i knew i had to make it real. anyway if you like it PLEASE feel free to tell me because im gonna need some motivation to make more of this lol

[obsessedwithceleste]

S is for Espresso (and also soulmates)

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Summary: modern! coffee shop au 🤝🏽 soulmate au

word count: 2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

"Matt I swear to god, if you keep slaughtering the spellings of customer's names when you write on the cups, I'm taking you off register!" Theo shouts from the hand-out counter. "How did you manage to find a way to fit a 'U' into 'Madison'?"

"Don't threaten me with a good time! And you can fit a ‘U’ into any word if you spell it wrong enough," Mattheo shouts back, before plastering a smile across his face and gesturing for the next customer to approach the counter. "What can I get for you today?"

The only reason Mattheo even found himself behind the counter of the campus coffee shop was because he had succumbed to the peer pressure of Theodore and Enzo, who had already been working there for months before they were able to drag Mattheo down with them. Sure the extra cash was a nice bonus, but this definitely was not Mattheo’s idea of a good time.

On a completely separate and unrelated note, maybe Mattheo was also hoping to possibly meet his soulmate at this blasted shop, but he would never admit that.

If Mattheo were to roll up the sleeves of his very intentional, long sleeve shirt, the eloquent phrase “I’ll have a vanilla latte with as much espresso as you’re legally allowed to give me” would be seen scrawled elegantly across his forearm.

Everyone had it. Not that exact line of course, but everyone had the first sentence their soulmate would say to them tattooed somewhere on their body. Mattheo was no rocket scientist, but he figured the odds were high enough that with a line like his, he would probably be meeting his soulmate in a coffee shop. So here he found himself.

As the days went on however, he was beginning to lose hope. Mattheo was no stranger to those awkward interactions where he would welcome a customer into the shop and see their face light up. “Is it you?” They’d ask. And he’d awkwardly laugh and try to explain that no, he was waiting for someone to order a vanilla latte. Or sometimes he’d just sigh and throw Enz onto register instead.

“Chipper up Matty, you haven’t seen the real fun yet. Next week is finals week, and you do not want to be the one to stand between a student and their daily caffeine hit. The morning crowd’ll keep you entertained just you wait,” Enzo says, breaking Mattheo from his thoughts.

“Don’t remind me. I haven’t been to class in days. Don’t even know when ole Snape’s final is.” Mattheo groans, turning to face his friends.

“Thursday you dolt. Maybe if you actually came to class once in awhile you’d know a thing or two,” Theo replies, resigned to the fact that he would most likely be studying for the both of them next week.

“Aw c’mon Theo, that’s no fun is it? Sides, we all know the only reason you show up to that class anyway is cause Daphne’s in it.” Mattheo responds cheekily.

Daphne Greengrass was Theo’s soulmate. Their first interaction had been the perfect little meet-cute really. The kind you’d see in one of those cheesy romance movies. Mattheo would know, he was there when they met. He and Theodore had been running late to class (not his fault of course) and Theo had stumbled right into the girl, knocking her books to the ground. It was disgustingly cliche in his opinion, the way the words had tumbled from their mouths, and the way they were both so stunned it was as if time had stopped. But his friend couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the girl.

Just as Theo was about to retort with some self redeeming nonsense, the little bell above the door lets out a ring, announcing the presence of yet another customer. Turning, Mattheo’s eyes snap to the door and the pretty figure entering the shop, feeling a pounding start in his chest.

“I got it,” Enzo says, turning to face the register. “You wanna take over the machine Matt?”

Wordlessly (for once), as if in a haze, Mattheo finds himself standing in front of the espresso machine, pouring out the drink like a man possessed. By the time he realizes what he’s doing, the vanilla latte is already in Theo’s hands and being passed over the counter.

It was going to be a long two weeks. Finals week and the week leading up to it had a special way of sucking the soul out of students, and you unfortunately were one of those victims.

You weren't even really much of a coffee drinker, the bitter taste always got to you and you weren't exactly in the financial position to be blowing money on a daily cup of coffee. But these late nights were not doing you any favors, and Daphne had been raving about the campus coffee shop. Her soulmate worked there, so she was a bit biased you supposed, but hey, caffeine was caffeine and you were in no position to be picky.

Of course there was the other reason you tended to be a bit weary of coffee shops in general; the curly script running along your collarbone. "Oh great, more of this espresso shit." Not exactly the most romantic words to hear from your soulmate. It's not even like you were avoiding meeting them or anything, look at Daphne, she seemed perfectly in love. You just didn't feel the need to rush it was all.

A little bell rings out above the door as you enter the shop and you’re immediately hit with the strong scent of ground coffee and the eyes of three boys turning to stare at you from behind the counter.

“I got it,” you hear one of the boys sigh as you make your way up to the counter, eyes scanning the extensive menu hanging on the wall behind them.

“Uh, can I just get a vanilla latte? Medium. With like 3 extra shots of espresso?” You ask.

“For sure,” the boy replies, punching numbers into the register idly.

You hand over some crumpled bills before wandering off to wait for your drink. As you glance around the place, your eyes fall on the handsome boy running the espresso machine. You desperately wanted to rake your fingers through those wild curls.

Freezing, you shake the thought from your head. What on earth? Before you can chastise yourself, Theo appears with your drink in hand.

“Oh, hey y/n,” He greets, placing your drink on the counter in front of you.

“Hey! Thanks a bunch,” you reply before scurrying off.

You had no idea where that thought had come from, but you decide to head back to the coffee shop the next day, and the day after that. You couldn’t place why, it just felt like a magnet kept pulling you back to that place. Maybe they were putting crack in their coffee or something. It was growing on you.

Almost a week into your daily coffee shop visits, you were beginning to grow a bit frustrated, though you couldn't exactly pin point why. Or maybe you could. It had been almost a week and you still hadn't spoken a word to the boy who had grabbed your attention that first day you had stopped in. He was particularly elusive it seemed. Not that you didn't like Theo of course, or the other boy, Lorenzo, but there was something almost captivating about Mattheo. At least you assumed that was his name after hearing Theo shout it at him on numerous occasions. He seemed funny though, if his constant bickering with Theo was anything to go by, and his warm eyes were always gleaming with mischief.

You let out a sigh as once again, you collect your drink without uttering a word to the boy. Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be.

Mattheo was actually going insane. The rather attractive stranger that he had now fully convinced himself was in fact his soulmate had been in the shop every day now for the past week. They were his soulmate. He was certain of it. Or at least he would be if he were able to get a word in edgewise. But it was always something. He was either slammed at the drink making counter, stuck in the drive-thru window, or cleaning up the spilled drink some asshole had left at their table.

And now here he was. Six in the morning and silently stewing about yet another missed opportunity from the day before while Enzo is yapping on about some finals assignment that was due tonight. Mattheo lets out a loud yawn from the register.

"Sorry am I boring you?" Enzo asks dryly, giving Mattheo a light knock on the head.

"No, no, please, keep talking, I only yawn when I'm particularly fascinated," Matt replies, trying to stifle another yawn. It escapes anyway. He wasn't trying very hard.

Thankfully, a wave of customers walks in just then, saving him from Enzo's whining. It's almost methodic the way he works his way through the line of customers, charming them, taking orders, and scribbling names on cups. He'd gotten quite good at it if he did say so himself. And he did.

"God dammit Matt! What is this even supposed to say?" Theo shouts from the espresso machine, thrusting a cup in Mattheo's direction and breaking him from his rhythm.

With a sigh, he turns, squints his eyes, and leans forward.

"It says extra espresso. Obviously."

"In what world?" Theo asks. "This clearly starts with an S."

"I don't know man, squint and read the letters you think you see and quit your complaining," Mattheo retorts.

"Unbelievable. Illiterate arse," he hears Theo mutter as he goes back to aggressively making drinks.

He decides to leave it for now, opting to just turn and greet the next customer. Instead he's met with warm eyes and a poor attempt to hide a smile.

“I’ll have a vanilla latte with as much espresso as you’re legally allowed to give me” you say, a small laugh escaping you.

"Oh great, more of this espresso shit," Mattheo groans before he even has the chance to think. "wait-" He blinks once. Then again. It's you. And you said the thing. And then he said. Shit.

"Well you do work at a coffee shop," you say with a smile, trying not to laugh too much as you watch the boy in front of you visibly malfunction.

"And that's tattooed on you. Permanently," Mattheo states, still shell shocked.

"Yes it is," you reply, still smiling.

"Hey Matt, what's the hold up?" Enzo shouts from the pass out counter.

You see Theo lean back from the espresso machine to see what all the commotion is about.

"Oh hey y/n! Usual vanilla latte, shit ton of espresso with an E?" he asks, looking pointedly at Mattheo.

"Yup! That's what they ordered. That is the drink my soulmate ordered," Mattheo blurts out rather loudly.

Theo drops the carton of milk he was holding and you flinch as it hits the floor with a splat.

"So, see you after your shift?" You ask, feeling it was probably best to move this along, especially as there was a line growing behind you.

"You can have him now, he's annoying," Theo calls out.

"No they can't, we're busy," Enzo interjects.

"I'm off at noon," Mattheo says, finally snapping out of it.

"Perfect, see you at noon then," you say with a smile before heading over to the pick-up counter where Enzo already has your drink waiting.

"Wait, don't you want my-"

"It's already on their cup," Enzo says, interrupting his friend. "Now get to it, that line isn't gonna clear itself."

"Bye y/n," Theo calls as you wave to the three of them on your way out.

It’s still a bit chilly out and the cool morning air hits you as soon as the shop door swings shut behind you, but you can’t help the warm feeling growing inside you.

You really did love coffee you think to yourself, grinning as you turn your cup to see a series of numbers scribbled on the back.

[cornsyrupfromhell]

individual pages (slightly higher quality and slightly less pink):

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