#coffeeshop AU

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

So I hear there's been some fandom drama? Guess it's time for another fic rec list! This fandom is so lovely, so let's focus on the positive and give all the love to our writers and artists. You guys are so talented. ♥️

Work It Harder, Make it Better by dear_monday, two_ravens

Olympics AU! And kind of Sk8er Boi? Charles is an Olympic skateboarder at the end of his competitive career and Edwin is a rising star in the world of dressage. They fall in love at Paris 2024. Amazing writing, as always, and I also enjoyed Niko and Crystal as members of the skateboarding and equestrian teams having their own Olympics Romance and Jenny as Charles' world-weary coach.

Twin Flame by Leandra

Another "He was a punk, he did ballet" romance! This time, everyone is alive and the boys meet when Charles watches Edwin perform at his little sister's ballet recital. The romance and Charles as a big brother are very sweet, which is great as this fic also covers some heavy themes. It's set in the 90s so there's discussion of homophobia, the AIDs crisis and Charles' canon child abuse. Suffice to say, his bisexual awakening is quite fraught. Recommended!

Love for Hire by lucrow

Edwin hires Charles to freak out his parents with his obnoxious fake boyfriend. What could possible haaappeeen? And yes, it's a ballet/punk romance too. 😅 Anyway, it's giving fantastic banter, lots of emotions and great use of trope! I also enjoyed Edwin's relationship with his mum in this fic, excellent parental feels.

so I try to talk refined by shadowquill17

Charles finds out about the Cat King taking on his appearance and (somehow) arrives at the conclusion that Edwin isn't attracted to him. Charles having body image as well as chronic self-esteem issues was interesting but kind of heartbreaking. Read it for Edwin's agonised attempts to verbalise his sexual attraction to Charles without exploding. That's love right there.

A Royal Pain(e) (series) by handwrittenhello

Royalty AU! I love a bodyguard romance from time to time and this one is lovely. Lots of yearning.

Turnabout's Fair Play by LikeMmmCookies

Edwin enlists Niko and Crystal to teach him how to flirt with Charles. It starts off cute and awkward and ends up Master Of All He Surveys, which is very Edwin.

I will love you (I really love you) by ghostinthelibrary

Charles has a feelings realization and tries to confess to Edwin. Repeatedly. From a cock-blocking enchanted statue to a Hellhound, it's farcical and fun. This fic has been living in my head rent free for months.

seasons of mists by laiqualaurelote

Edwin hires Charles to be the barista in his book shop's cafe. Two cosy AUs in one! And it even comes (appropriately) with its own reading list and fanart! Very cute, excellent autumnal vibes and a superb imaginary book shop. I'm genuinely so devastated it's not a real place. 😭

Ariadne's Thread by hobbitsdoitbetter

In which Edwin is demisexual and trying to make it work with Charles. Love to see some ace spectrum representation!

you know the problem with history (it keeps coming back like weeds) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Amnesia AU! And kind of Secret Relationship? Edwin has Not So Temporary Amnesia that made him forget a whole romantic relationship with Charles early in their partnership. And Charles never told him... Surely this will have no impact on the events of canon?? 😬 I loved this twist on the trope!

scraped to the marrow by Anonymous

Edwin learned black magic in Hell and kind of went to the Dark Side. I love the trope of "Everyone thinks Character avoids violence because they're scared/weak/nice/bad at it, but actually they're a bit too good at it" and this fic does it well. I love regular Edwin, but Lord Bone was also pretty cool.

To Walk Back Into Hell by Asidian

Charles goes to Hell in Edwin's place, so naturally Edwin needs to find a way to rescue him! Interesting Hell lore and I loved all the Charles love in this.

It does not stop by williamvapespeare

Now he's safe from Hell, Edwin finally works through his PTSD. Emotional, but peak Emotional Support Charles for the win!

signed, sealed, delivered by sulfuric

Outsider PoV of the boys and the agency through the years from the perspective of the Ghost Postman. He's kind of underrated as a side character, but there are so many Implications about the Dead Letter Office, so I enjoyed the worldbuilding. And the supernatural community of London gossiping about/shipping the boys (they're just like us, for real). Love that trope.

not so secret by lola_prongs

Social Media/Celebrity AU! In which they're both actors and Charles relentlessly thirsts after Edwin on Twitter. Great use of social media/epistolary storytelling.

Like a record, baby by singtome

Another celebrity/social media AU, but this time Charles and Crystal are budding rock stars and Edwin is their manager. Also Edwin goes viral as the mysterious #HotGuyatUnity after his picture's taken at an event and Charles *tries* to set the record straight. This one's funny, generous with the yearning and UST and is part of a series that also touches on the darker side of the music industry/celebrity, which I appreciated. And it also has this excellent visual representation of the online drama.

@ghostinthelibrarywrites @tumblerislovetumblerislife @shadowquill17 @neurodivergent-fangirling @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @shazziez @many-gay-magpies @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @guardianspirits13 @colourmornings @herebehunters @avoiceofnerat @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @handwrittenhello @every-moment-a-different-sound @williamvapespeare @laiqualaurelote @dear-monday @dear-lucrow @aletterinthenameofsanity @likemmmcookies @bibliomancer7 @c-rowland @nobledragonflying @hobbitsdoitbetter

I've tagged some people again. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

[stravaginglurker-syne]

Role Reversal AU...... Un-Crawling your Mr.

Human! Mr. Crawling

still elongated but vertically

[carbonatedjem]

Syomaru Week 2024 - Day 2 - Coffeeshop

Okay so like, this one got a little out of hand I'm not even gonna lie to you.

I really, really liked the way I drew Syo for this. And that spiraled into me overthinking this Coffeeshop AU. So then I made a bonus comic that acts as a follow up to the initial image

I also just really like Syomaru as a ship and feel like it's a bit harder to find art and fanfics focusing on it. (That could just me not lookin hard enough though).

So it all kind of spiraled into "Syomaru Coffeeshop AU that also involves an illegal underground fight ring"

I have other, secret DR related projects I need to finish beforehand, but non-zero chance I attempt to expand on and do more with this AU. Under the cut here are some character designs I've sketched for it so far, not all of them obviously cause I've been pretty busy.

Wanted to give Syo a fuckass friend group from the fight ring.

Bare minimum I'll try to do a few art pieces for this AU in the future, but it's really dependent on my ability to manage my time effectively.

[colormepurplex2]

Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program. 

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2

[gildedphoenix]

I blame @bloggerspam and @stealingyourbones

Once in a while impossible things happen. Less than once in a lifetime, two impossible things happen at the same time and the universe ties them together. Danny standing in the opening gateway of two worlds, core forming instantly in a moment of unbound potential, was the first impossible thing. 

Jason returning from beyond, waking in his own grave, a revenant fueled halfa was the second impossible thing.

While people like to dream of soulmates, it’s not really a thing that happens. It’s impossible. Danny and Jason impossibly share a core. The same core, split in two and giving both of them life. Giving both of them a longing they don’t understand.

[abby-howard]

Hey look! Look at this! A new Scarlet Hollow AU poster just went up over on TopatoCo :3

The coffeeshop AU where nothing bad has ever happened to anyone except for minor miscommunications that can be cleared up over a cup of java at Stella's themed cafe~

THERE ARE ALSO NEW CHARMS..... Kaneeka and someone else 👀 (warning for mild spoilers for what's currently available of Scarlet Hollow)

I would say more but I'm in a work haze right now getting Slay the Princess ready for release, so let's all imagine I did :3 Have a nice day evrybody

[sluttygallavich]

Galladrabbles: autumn

Thanks, @millennium-time-machine, for this week's prompt. Great first prompt for @galladrabbles! <3

_________________________

His co-worker nudges him sharply, and Ian looks up as his crush approaches the counter.

“Hey, Mickey.” He sounds breathless. “The usual?”

“Hmm, feelin’ bold today. Gimme a venti pumpkin spice latte, eight shots of espresso, five pumps of maple pecan sauce, light foam, extra caramel drizzle, extra autumn sugar topping.”

Ian is stunned stupid. “Are—are you serious?”

Mickey laughs. “Nah, man. Just wanted to see that big orange head of yours explode.” 

“Asshole,” he says, fighting back a smile. “So…tall black?”

“Well…did say I was feelin’ bold. How ’bout your number, too?”

Battle lost, Ian beams.

[iilines]

I went to a Queer centric local Coffeeshop/Bookstore today.

This was on their menu ❤️🤣

Barista!Gideon / Coffee shop AUs I'm BEGGING YOU!

Add this to your fanfics 🤣🤣🤣

"Whats your favorite coffee?"

[engie-ivy]

(Wolfstar Christmas Get-Together Coffeeshop AU Holiday Fluff!)

3304 words.

Sirius is the town’s most eligible bachelor, and while home for the Holidays, everyone seems eager to get him coupled up.

Euphemia wants to set him up with this sweet boy who frequents the library where she works.

Hope Lupin wants to set him up with her own son.

James wants to set him up with Lily's cute best friend.

Sirius, however, isn't interested in any of them, as he's already smitten with the adorable guy from the coffeeshop.

This Love We Got Is the Best Of All

Merry Christmas - Ed Sheeran & Elton John

“Oh my!” Hope Lupin claps her hands together. “What a handsome young man indeed!”

“I told you, didn't I?” Euphemia beams at her. “Hope, this is Sirius Black, James’ best friend, but more like my second son. Sirius, this is Hope Lupin, she has recently joined my book club and I invited her over for tea.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Lupin,” Sirius smiles.

“Oh, please.” Hope Lupin waves her hand. “Call me Hope.”

“How was it at the shelter?” Euphemia asks Sirius.

“Very good!” Sirius’ face lights up. “Mr Snuggles’ owner came to pick him up. You should've seen how happy he was that he had found his friend back, it was lovely, and Mr Snuggles wouldn't stop purring.”

“Sirius is studying in London to become a veterinarian,” Euphemia explains to Hope. “And while he's in town for the Holidays, he's volunteering at the animal shelter.”

Hope leans her elbows on the table and rests her head on her hands. “Handsome, smart and good for animals,” she sighs. “All the girls in town must be swooning over you!”

“They are,” Euphemia chuckles. “But he has already broken all of their hearts by having no interest in girls. Though he has never brought home a nice boyfriend for Christmas either,” she adds, with a stern look at Sirius.

“You know,” Hope says, directing a meaningful smile at Sirius. “My son is about your age and still single. And knowing my boy, he'd be quite charmed by you.”

“Now, wait a minute!” Euphemia protests. “If you want to set Sirius up, you'll have to get in line, my dear Hope. There's this really sweet boy who frequents the library, and I've been dying for Sirius to meet him! If only Sirius would let me introduce them…”

“You know I'm not-” Sirius begins, but he's interrupted by Hope.

“Well, surely my own son comes with a higher recommendation than some boy from your workplace,” Hope insists.

“But I know Sirius,” Euphemia counters. “And I know his type best.”

“Hello?” Sirius waves. “Does anyone care what I think?”

“My son is everyone's type,” Hope says firmly.

“And if my match turns out to not be such a match after all, then your son is more than welcome to shoot his shot…”

“Apparently not,” Sirius sighs, hoisting his bag higher up his shoulder and walking out of the kitchen.

“So now they're both trying to set you up?”

James chuckles.

“It's not funny!” Sirius covers his face with his hands as he drops down next to James on James’ bed. “Just mum was bad enough, but now her friends as well?”

James pops himself up on his elbows and waggles his eyebrows. “That's what you get for being the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Middle-aged women meddling in your love life?”

“You know,” James says. “If you want to be one step ahead of the nosy ladies, there's always Lily's friend.”

Sirius groans. “Not you too, Jamie!”

“Oh, come on!” James exclaims. “He's a really chill guy and hella cute! You'd totally like him.”

“Jaaaaames, you know that I'm not… open.”

“Right,” James says, rolling onto his back. “Coffeeshop guy,” he sighs exasperatedly.

“Coffeeshop guy,” Sirius sighs dreamily.

“He's so funny and kind, James. You won't believe.”

James snorts. “What I mostly don't believe, is that you still haven't asked him out yet!”

“I'm getting there, I'm getting there,” Sirius says. “But it's not like I haven't made any progress! Did I tell you that he knows my order now?”

James rolls his eyes. “You've been coming there twice a day ever since you got back in town. If he didn't know your order by now, I'd worry about his mental capacities.”

“You should've seen the way he smiled at me yesterday when he handed me my drink” Sirius says dreamily, as if he hasn't even heard James. “He's so pretty, oh my gosh.”

“I would've loved to see that,” James says dryly. “But someone-” He pokes Sirius in his side “-made me solemnly swear that I wouldn't go near that coffeeshop.”

Sirius huffs. “You admitted that you wanted to interrogate him about ‘his intentions’!”

James shrugs. “Only my brotherly duty.” Then he grins. “Lily's friend already passed my test, by the way.”

“Good for him,” Sirius says unimpressed. “I'm sure he'll make someone very happy someday.”

“Good morning, Remus!”

Remus looks up from where he had been rearranging the pastries in the display. “Oh! Sirius! Morning! A good one. To you as well, I mean.”

“Did you survive the morning coffee rush?” Sirius asks as he approaches the counter.

“Barely,” Remus chuckles. “Good thing it's still too early for most people to order one of our more complicated Holiday Specials.” He shudders. “I'm already dreading the afternoon rush. Luckily some customers are thoughtful enough to always come when the rush is over,” he adds, smiling at Sirius.

Sirius’ stomach flutters. Sure, it's super inconvenient to always start his volunteer work at the shelter a bit late and always stay a bit longer, but that smile makes it all worth it. “Well, gotta make sure I get enough one-on-one time with my favourite barista,” Sirius replies with a wink, and he's pretty proud of his smoothness.

Remus’ cheeks colour, and that could be a good sign, though there's always the chance he's just making Remus uncomfortable.

“You charmer,” Remus mumbles, awkwardly bumping Sirius’ shoulder. “Are you looking for a discount?”

Sirius places a hand over his heart and gasps in pretend-shock. “I would never use my charm for such purposes.”

Remus has given him a free cinnamon bun once, and while Sirius is not much of a sweet tooth, he savored every bite.

“No,” Remus chuckles. “Great power and great responsibility, I suppose.”

“Can imagine rush hour is the worst around Christmas,” Sirius says, looking over the menu. “Must be rather frustrating when you have ten people waiting in line, four coffees still running, and someone goes and orders…” He narrows his eyes at the sign above Remus. “A caramel cookie dough vanilla bean syrup latte moccachino with whipped cream and hazelnut topping.” He looks back at Remus. “What even is that?”

Remus leans over the counter and smirks. “Wanna try one?”

“Remus,” Sirius says emphatically. “The day I walk in here and order something like that, please take me to the ER, because I must've slipped and hit my head on the way here.”

“Booo, you're no fun,” Remus pouts rather adorably, as he pushes himself up from the counter. “Your regular it is.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says, pleased.

“You know,” Remus says, turning around to make Sirius’ double shot cappuccino. “You really gotta step out of your comfort zone every once in a while.”

“My coffee is my comfort,” Sirius replies. “So what would even be the use of my coffee moment if I'm using it to step out of my comfort zone?”

“A little adventure, maybe?”

“It's not that I'm not adventurous, it's just that I know what I like and what I don't like.” Sirius shrugs. “I'm actually plenty adventurous in other aspects of my life.”

“Are you now?” Remus asks, turning around to bring Sirius his cup.

“Oh yeah,” Sirius says. “I love going on spontaneous road trips on my motorcycle, for instance. Did I tell you that I drive a motorcycle?”

Remus’ eyes slightly widen. “That's hot.”

Sirius arches an eyebrow.

“Erm, the coffee,” Remus says, putting the cup down in front of Sirius. “Very hot, so, erm, be careful.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says, giving Remus an amused look. “After having ordered it about twenty times already, that hadn't occurred to me yet.”

Remus immediately hands Sirius his cappuccino as he walks in that afternoon. He's got cacao powder stains on his apron, whipped cream on his cheek, cookie crumble in his hair, and a bewildered look in his eyes, making him look like a very cute mess.

Sirius arches an eyebrow. “You're not gonna try to push one of your Holiday Specials on me?”

Remus shakes his head. “I feel like I've made enough moccaccinos, frappuccinos, chococcinos, hazelnuccinos, or whatever kind of ccinos for the rest of my life. If you ordered one, I might have actually refused.”

“Well, not to worry,” Sirius says, taking a sip from his drink. “And here I thought my impeccable argumentation had convinced you.”

“Well, the motorcycle was a strong argument,” Remus says, leaning over the counter, resting his head on his hand. “Guess there's a whole other side of you outside of this coffeeshop that I do not know yet,” he murmurs, looking at Sirius intently.

Sirius tries to school his expression into something more collected than how he feels on the inside, because yet? Does that mean Remus wants to get to know him while he's not just doing his job? And god, must he be looking at him like that?

“Well, yeah,” Sirius says, surprising himself with how normal his voice comes out. “I suppose there is more to me than double shot cappuccinos.”

Remus smirks. “Who would've thought?”

“Excuse me?”

Remus jumps, only now noticing the woman standing at the counter. He quickly rushes to her. “Hi, yes, I'm sorry, how can I help you?”

Sirius finishes his coffee and slips on his jacket, staring at Remus, who's still having a conversation with the woman about the difference between a latte and a flat white. He's trying to work up enough courage.

“You!” Remus suddenly says, pointing his finger at Sirius while the woman walks away with her gingerbread latte. “You're not thinking about leaving without showing me, are you?” He turns his hand around and wiggles his finger, beckoning Sirius over. “Come on, let me see, let me see!”

Sirius rolls his eyes fondly as he walks over to Remus. “I wouldn't dare,” he says, as he whips his phone out of his pocket and opens his photos.

Remus eagerly looks at the screen. “Oh my, did Purrkins get her fur brushed? What a lovely lady!”

“She did, and she was quite the drama queen about it.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “You'd think we were trying to torture her.”

“Look how proud Bowie looks!”

“Well, he was a really good boy and found two sticks in the yard!”

“And who’s that fuzzy ball of fluff?”

“That's Myta! She was brought in today, and already made many friends.”

“And there's our dynamic duo!”

“Yes, little Adrian and his big brother Bram are still as inseparable as ever.”

“Oh! Is… Is this what I think it is?”

“It is! Siepie got adopted today!”

Remus sighs deeply as Sirius has swipes to the last photo. “God, I envy your job. I mean,” he adds quickly. “I know it's not always fun and very hard work as well.”

“I guess it is,” Sirius says. “But everytime I walk in and see those faces, it more than makes up for it.”

“That's what my friend who works in kindergarten always says,” Remus says. “But I could never quite imagine. In this case, though, I immediately believe it.”

Sirius grins. “Wanna quit this job and come volunteer in the shelter with me?”

“Too bad,” Remus says. “Getting paid is a non-negotiable for my job.”

“You'll get paid in cuteness!” Sirius insists.

“Cuteness doesn't pay college tuition, I'm afraid.” Remus chuckles. “Otherwise you'd be studying for free.”

Sirius opens and closes his mouth.

Remus turns bright red and runs a hand through his hair. “I… Erm, I mean…” He claps his hands. “Well, I better get cleaning! Considering my brain-to-mouth-filter apparently stopped working, I must be very tired. I should start closing up.”

“You know,” Sirius quickly says. “If you really want to know more about me outside of this coffeeshop, my chosen family is hosting a Christmas Eve party. Maybe you'd like to come?”

“Christmas Eve?” Remus replies. “Oh, I'm sorry. I already promised my mum that I'd go to this event with her on Christmas Eve.”

Sirius face falls. “Right. Of course. It's short notice, after all. Well, better luck next time.” Sirius turns to walk away.

“Sirius!” Remus grabs his wrist. “I really am sorry.”

Sirius looks down at Remus’ hand and then up to his face. “It's okay. It's Christmas Eve. You can't cancel on your mum, of course.”

Remus bites his lip. “Would you think me a terrible person if I kind of wish I could?”

Sirius smiles. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That's amazing, mate!” James beams at him.

“We should not get ahead of ourselves,” Sirius warns. “I mean, he did say no.”

“But he obviously wanted to say yes!” James exclaims, grinning broadly.

“He did, didn't he?” Sirius’ face also breaks out into a grin. “I mean, he wouldn't have called me back to emphasize how sorry he was if he was just trying to blow me off.”

“Definitely not,” James assures him. “He's totally into you, just really couldn't make it. And now he knows you're interested, so nothing should be stopping him from asking you out next! Which is good, as the sooner we know if it's going to work out with coffeeshop guy, the better. Lily's friend is single now, but he won't be forever. Ow!” James rubs his arm where Sirius just punched him. “But of course I'm rooting for you!” He adds, upon seeing the glare Sirius is directing at him. “I'm just saying, it's a shame Lily's friend can't make it to the party either. It would've been good if you could've at least gotten to meet him before completely making up your mind on coffeeshop guy.”

Sirius lies back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate to break it to you, Jamie, but my mind is already completely made up on coffeeshop guy.”

James looks at Sirius and shakes his head. “You're really gone for him, aren't you?”

Sirius sighs. “I can't bloody stop thinking about him.”

“Good heavens,” James says. “You're down bad!”

“I'm glad mum's library boy couldn't make it to the party either,” Sirius says. “Now the only person I have to politely reject is Hope Lupin’s son. Though maybe he's completely mortified about his mother's meddling and isn't even into me at all,” he adds hopefully.

“Wouldn't count on it mate,” James says, lying down next to him. “A single gay guy seeing you and deciding he's not interested? That happened exactly never.”

Sirius groans, and James pats his leg sympathetically.

“I'm not even trying to boost your ego here. You know the effect you have when you walk into a room.”

Okay, so maybe Sirius does kind of know the effect he has when he walks into a room. Giggling, admiring glances, lingering looks, that sort of thing, but he had not exactly expected to have that effect on the middle-aged and elderly women of town.

At the Potters’ grand Christmas Eve party, it seems like every single one of them is stopping him. “Oh my, Sirius Black? Is that you? Look at you! My dear, you get more handsome every year! Say, is there a special someone in your life already?”

This is mostly followed by them listing all their children or grandchildren who are still single, while Sirius tries to politely get away before they whip out the photos. He's grateful that at least he hasn't run into Hope Lupin yet, shoving her son in his face. Photos are easier to get away from than an actual person, after all.

When talking to seventy-five-year-old Mrs Markell, she hadn't even been mentioning any grandchildren, and Sirius is wholly unprepared when she suddenly takes a stack of photos out of her purse, with no chance for him to get away on time. But it turns out she heard Sirius is studying to become a vet, and she just wants to show him pictures of her beloved dog, Mr Barkell. And well, Sirius is definitely here for that.

“Oh my god, what a handsome fella indeed!” Sirius is just gushing over Mr Barkell in his brand new Christmas sweater, knitted by Mrs Markell herself when he hears a familiar voice.

“Sirius?”

He looks up and immediately feels his heart speed up, because Remus in an apron is adorable, but Remus in a button-up and suit jacket? Good god. “Remus?” He manages to say. “What are you doing here? I thought you had that thing with your mum?”

Remus looks just as surprised as he does while gesturing around himself. “This is the thing with my mum.”

Sirius blinks. “Your mum took you to our Christmas Eve party?”

“Apparently,” Remus says, smiling sheepishly.

Suddenly, Euphemia’s voice can be heard. “Remus!”

“Msr Euphemia?” Remus stammers.

“You're here! Oh, how lovely.” Euphemia gives Remus a warm hug, before playfully slapping his shoulder. “And you made me think you couldn't make it, you,” she tuts.

“You know Remus?” Sirius asked, stunned.

Euphemia rolls her eyes. “Why, of course I know Remus! I've been trying to introduce you to him for ages! Ever since this adorable boy walked into my library,” she says fondly, squeezing Remus’ arm.

Before Sirius can say anything else, another voice sounds. “Oh no, you two are already talking!” Hope Lupin rushes up to them. “And I wanted to be the one to introduce you two!”

Euphemia frowns. “Why did you want to introduce Remus to Sirius?”

Hope blinks. “...Remus is my son?”

“Remus from the library is your son?” Euphemia exclaims.

The two women stare at each other for a moment, and then they burst out laughing. “Can you believe it…?” “This whole time…” “We were just trying to get Sirius together with the same person!”

Remus’ cheeks turn bright red. “Mum!”

“Remus! Mate! You're here!” Sirius probably shouldn't even be surprised anymore to see James running up to Remus and slinging an arm around him. “Lily said you already had other plans, but I'm super glad you made it after all!”

James lets go of Remus and walks up to Sirius, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward. “Have you met Sirius yet?”

“Yes,” Remus replies, looking a bit dazed. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

Sirius stares at him and opens and closes his mouth a few times before managing to produce words. “You're library boy, and Hope Lupin’s son, and Lily's friend?”

“Wait, really?” James speaks before Remus can reply. “Are you serious, Sirius? That's all the same person? All Remus?” He starts laughing and clasps Sirius on the shoulder. “I know how head over heels in love you are with your coffeeshop guy, but mate, this sort of seems like fate, doesn't it?”

Now it's Sirius’ face that turns bright red, as Remus raises his eyebrows. “James!” Sirius hisses.

James looks from Sirius, to Remus, and back again and his eyes widen. “What? Do you mean… No way!” He gasps. “Are you for real? That's insane, mate! Insane, but also kind of amazing. Wow, this best man's speech is going to write itself!”

“James!”

“So,” Sirius begins, staring up at the night sky after Remus and he have stepped outside for a moment to talk. "Apparently, everyone in my life has been trying to set me up with you.”

“Yeah,” Remus says, awkwardly scratching his head. “Sorry about that.”

“Don't be,” Sirius says, turning to him to look him in the eyes. “I must admit, I kind of like that everyone in our lives saw you, saw me, and all had the same thought: these two should be together.”

The smile Remus gives him makes Sirius feel warm even in the December cold. Remus reaches out his hand. “Including us?”

Sirius smiles back at him as he takes the offered hand. “Yeah, we beat them to it, didn't we?” He squeezes Remus’ hand softly. “Including us.”

[laiqualaurelote]

So they have arrived in October still short a barista, and today Niko and Crystal come barrelling into the bookshop arm in arm, eyes alight, breaths showing warm in the apple-crisp air. “Edwin,” says Niko, “will you go get us some coffee? Pumpkin spice latte from the Starbucks round the corner, pretty please. You’ve been in all afternoon, you could use the walk.”

And so Edwin finds himself put out of his own shop, sent on a coffee run by his own employee. Yet he cannot deny that it is the loveliest sort of autumn day, where the light clings to every surface like honey. This season always makes something unspeakable snag in him, skimming as he does across the volta of the year, turning over the words of poets long dead. 

Then he looks up at the man behind the Starbucks counter and all the poetry falls out of his mind like the leaves of a wind-struck tree.

After all the going to Hell and necromancy and body horror in my last fic, I decided for the Love of My Afterlife Payneland's First Halloween! mini-bang to write the cosiest fic possible, to wit: a bookshop AND coffeeshop AU. I was paired with @dont-offend-the-bees​, who has gone above and beyond with their gorgeous art (and also designed the architectural layout of Edwin’s bookshop and came up with its name, The Attic). Also because I have no chill, this fic comes with a bibliography and a playlist.

Thank you to @manicpixiedreamedwins​ for organising this lovely event, and do check out the rest of the collection too!

[lgbtqreads]

Exclusive Cover Reveal: Coffeeshop in an Alternate Universe by C.B. Lee

Today on the site I am so thrilled to be sharing the cover for the long-awaited Coffeeshop in an Alternate Universe by C.B. Lee, a cozy Sapphic YA fantasy releasing June 10, 2025 from Feiwel & Friends/Macmillan! Here’s the story: A geeky overachiever determined to save the world through science and a troublemaking chosen one lashing out against her destiny meet and fall in love in a magical…

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Zephrit coffee shop AU ??? Anyone ???

"New costumer for you, 'Frit."

Ifrit looks up from the coffee he's making, shooting Ivy a suspicious look.

"Why aren't you taking their order ?"

Ivy holds out a pack of cigarette, waving it in the air as he unties his apron. His smirk immediately makes the hair at the back of Ifrit's neck stand.

"Smoke break. I'll be back soon, don't miss me too much !"

"Since when do you smoke-"

Too late, Ivy already disappeared behind the "employees only" door with an omnious cackle. Sighing as dread fills his nervous system, Ifrit straightens up, calls out the name scrawled in Ivy's barely legible handwritting on the cup, wincing when the girl who takes the latte from his hands corrects his pronounciation.

She visibly softens and waves it off the second she catches sight of his apologetic smile. Ivy calls it "their best publicity", that sparkling grin that never leaves people indifferent.

Once that's done, Ifrit saunters back toward the counter.

"Hi, what can I get you-"

He falters, blood rushing to his cheeks in an instant, words dying in his throat. There, leaning on a cane covered in stickers, hair held back in intricated braids tied together, wearing black slacks and a dress shirt to match it, is a familiar face, grey eyes widening in amused surprise when they meet Ifrit's.

The sight of this person makes phantom hands roam all over Ifrit's body, and oh, what a mistake it is to throw a quick glance at their lips - now Ifrit can recall their taste, the feeling of them on his. Fuck fuck fuck. Ifrit knows this person.

"Ifrit," they chuckle, and the man in question has no idea if they just read his nametag or remember the short, hurried conversation they had before getting each other off in a bar's dingy bathroom. Last night. Because Ifrit has the worst karma ever known to mankind.

Though he certainly hasn't forgotten the person's name.

"...Zephyr."

They hum, tilting their head, eyes crinkling in the corner. The first two buttons of their shirt are open, their sleeves rolled up to accomodate the pleasant weather, and Ifrit has to advert his eyes lest his thought take a lustful turn.

"Fancy seeing you here," Zephyr lilts, voice wrapping around Ifrit's brain just like it did last night, except today he doesn't even have the booze to blame for the way his knees immediately go a little weak at that.

"I...well, I work here," Ifrit blurts out, wincing the second the words are out of his mouth. Great. Where is his easy charm when he needs it ? Just like yesterday night, all of it vanishes once faced by Zephyr.

Leaning their forearms against the counter and lowering their voice to a teasing croon, smirk tucked in the corner of their mouth, they chuckle.

"I trust you got home safely last night then."

Oh Ifrit was not ready for such an easy acknowledgement of what happened the night before. In such a smooth voice too, shit Ifrit already misses feeling their skin on his. He's so fucked.

"Uh- I- yeah, Ivy drove me home."

Ivy. The little shit was there yesterday too, saw Ifrit excuse himself at Zephyr's arm...well, his newly developped smoking habits make sense now, at least.

Zephyr is smiling, but it's not mocking, more like endeared. Ifrit clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

"I- uhm. Your order ?"

Stringing words together in a coeherent sentence has never been more difficult.

"Caramel macchiato, please. And, I suppose, your number would be nice, since I forgot to ask yesterday."

Ifrit resists the sudden urge to run around and jump with excitement. He's sure his smile threatens to rip his face in half with how wide it has become.

"That I can do. Be right back."

He rushes toward the back room under Zephyr's amused stare, letting the door fall shut behind him before he let out a strangled little noise of pure delight and allows himself to jump once or twice. Then he grabs a pen - there were some near the cups on the counter, but Ifrit really needed a moment to collect himself - and saunters back out, scribbling his number on an old receipe while starting the coffee machine. He checks twice to ensure he hasn't made any mistakes and the numbers are all neatly written, before handing it to Zephyr with a cheeky grin.

Their fingers overlap, purposefully if Zephyr's smirk is anything to go by, Ifrit's heart skipping a bit.

"Something on my face ?" they tease at Ifrit's blatant staring.

"Hard to keep my eyes in check with the outrageous knowledge that your forearms are bare," he hums in answer, pointedly checking Zephyr out. "Formal clothes suit you,"

They raise an eyebrow, cheeks tinged pink too, now.

"That so ? Should have known you'd like it. You have a thing for authority, don't you ?"

Ifrit nearly chokes on air, the memory of that same voice curling around the words "good boy" right in his ear making him feel dizzy.

He remembers the coffee just in time, using it as an excuse to turn away, hopefully hidding the worse of his blush. And if he draws a little heart while drizzling caramel in the cup, well, that's his problem.

Zephyr swipes their thumb across the back of Ifrit's hand when they take the cup handed to them, which has him holding back a honest-to-god squeal.

"Thank you, Ifrit. Expect a text from me, I'm not busy today," Zephyr smiles as they take their order to a nearby table.

Ifrit needs to scream, and is also wondering how he'll go through his shift feeling those grey eyes weight on his back.

"What the fuck are you doing, man ?"

Ivy's voice interrupts Ifrit's musing ; apparently he's been back from his break for a little while, now staring at Ifrit like he just said something incredibly stupid.

"What ?"

Ivy rolls his eyes, grabs Ifrit by the shoulders, and shakes him none-too-gently.

"They just told you they weren't busy, dumbass. Go sit with them ! Pebble came in early, he's in the back room, he'll cover for you, go !"

Ifrit catches a glimpse of a purple bruise on Ivy's neck then, half-hidden by his hair, which makes him snort.

"Came in early, mmh ? You ran into him during your...smoke break, V ?"

Ivy glares at him, pratically shoving him toward Zephyr's table.

"Shut up you cunt, go get 'em instead of pestering me."

Ifrit's still laughing when he drops in the seat facing Zephyr, stomach flipping under their intense stare.

He's never felt more alive.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 28: Coffee Shop AU

The barista and the bookshop | @abi-cosmos Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Barista Dean Winchester, Librarian/Bookshop owner Castiel, Friends to lovers, Mutual pining, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Slow burn, Angst with a happy ending, Depression, Costume parties and masquerades, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Sharing a bed, Coffeeshop AU Summary: In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, Dean Winchester has been running Squirrel and Moose Coffeehouse since his Dad died. Next door, anchored by family obligation, librarian Castiel has been tasked with taking over Chuck’s Bookshop. Wanting a distraction after his brother leaves town, Dean offers to help Castiel fix it up. It’s a job, something to get his hands on, it doesn’t matter that the librarian is hot and kinda weird. Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is helping him, but he’s happy that he is, and their friendship grows until he can’t deny what’s right in front of him. But when their time together is cut short, both face a decision they aren't ready for. In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, what's it gonna be? Peace or freedom?

Are You Writing From The Heart? | @luckshiptoshore Rating: Explicit Word Count: 86,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, comedian dean, Season/Series 04, Masturbation, Alcohol, Writer Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Fanfiction Writer Dean Winchester, dean/crowley relationship in the past of the fic, cas/meg and cas/hannah relationships in the past of the fic, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Jobs Summary: Castiel Novak's a writer who's waiting for his big break. His last book didn't sell, so now he's doing work for hire, ghostwriting the next in a series of ridiculous horror novels about two hot brothers who hunt monsters together. It’s pretty popular, and the fans are desperate for the next instalment — which is a problem, because the guy who usually writes them just up and vanished a couple of months ago. He left behind a signed contract and the outline for the next two stories, so the publisher’s been looking for someone else who could pick up where Chuck left off. And that's Cas. So he heads to a cafe to get the words out ... and that's where he meets Dean, a smartass wannabe comedian who's working on his stand-up set. Cas is straight, obviously, but there's something about this guy that he's fascinated with. The two of them strike up a friendship ... and soon the world Cas is writing and the world he's living in begin to get mixed up. Sometimes you're writing what you know without even realizing it ...

Finding You In Every Sign | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 99,407 Main Tags/Warnings: Deaf!castiel, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, flower shop au, coffee shop au, strangers to lovers, bottom!dean, bottom!castiel, sweet!dean, hurt!dean, hurt and comfort Summary: Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

[alienoresimagines]

I can’t wait for the season of coffee shop AUs! I want to write one too ☕️

Omg, coffee shop AUs!!! I can't believe there isn't one yet (I think) but the possibilities, just thinking of them makes my heart melt 😭

Maybe John develops a crush for the pretty boy who always comes in to work on his laptop (because the coffeeshop is a safer place than at home with his dad to study) but who's also very polite and patient, actually treating John and his colleagues like human even during rush hours, John always leaving cute lil notes on Gale's drinks like "Good luck with exams :)" when he knows it's exams season and Curt giving John shit when he sees John sighing dreamily at Gale, hunched over his astrophysics books, when there's a lull

Or maybe Gale's world lightens up when sunshine personified keeps coming to his lil coffeeshop, always trying weird drinks and combinations but with always a kind word for Gale, like a "good luck" with an empathetic smile when Gale serves him during rush hour, John trying to do small talk while Gale prepares his drink when the coffeeshop isn't busy and doing an internal victory dance when he makes Gale smile

Ahhh now I want to write one too 😂😭 But yes, I can't wait for all the seasonal AUs, they're all gonna be so fluffy and healing for my soul 🥹

I really hope you'll get around to writing one too, I love your writing and your take on the Buckies 🥺❤️

What are some tropes/hc you'd like to see more of in Clegan fics?

[kasanii]

I... had a dream of Karlach as a barista?? And Tav being someone who studies at the coffee place n shit? Anyways, had to draw it, obviously

[tdbkauz]

DAY 6 OF TDBK AU WEEK (25/12/2024)

merry christmas ! today's prompts are Villain AU and Coffeeshop AU !

have a jolly holiday !