i misspelled his name as lean

Dramatic Idiot

Yes, i do know I’m late for the freeday. But it’s here and that’s what counts. right? Anyways, all I know is that I’ll still be writing lots of Voltron even after klance week is over - I mean, look at this ship! how could I not?!


Rated: T

Pairing: Klance

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2813

Summary: Working at Starbucks for over a year was sure to give Keith his fair share of stumbles with peculiar people. However, during his year, he’d never seen anyone as dramatic. And what sort of idiot called - to Keith’s personal number - at two  in the morning, asking for coffee. (coffee shop Au.)


Of all things that could have happened, Keith guessed the actual outcome wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Considering how exhausting his day had been, and just how impertinent the customer was, quite a variety of things could have happened. Keith was just glad all he did was serve the wrong drink and misspell the correct name.

Having worked at Starbucks for over a year, Keith had his fair share of embarrassment. Most of the customers, however, never quite reacted this way. While the majority normally smiled tightly and uncomfortably, proclaiming to be alright, a few came with their own fatigue, and were in no mood for that, thus snapping at Keith.

Keith wasn’t really bothered by this; He was normally exasperated of his day - there was no point in holding a grudge against something he would have done himself if in different positions. That would be it and then Keith would move on for the rest of the day, stealing yearning glances at the clock hung far wall as he waited for his freedom.

University work already stole most of his day, and the job only served to shorten it drastically.

This occasion was peculiar, however, and the customer seemed to be adamant on his case.

“I asked for a caramel macchiato with coconut milk and two shots of espresso, but you guys gave me this! That’s not what I want!” Keith could feel his eyebrows twitching in annoyance only from watching this person throw their arms up, flailing as Shiro tried to calm him down.

“And not only that,” He continued, “But you all misspelled my name! It’s Lance, not Lannance!”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro apologized, smiling nervously at all the stares he received from his other visitors. “Just make your order again. We’ll be more attentive towards it and your name, alright?”

“Uh, no,” Lance glared, peering over Shiro’s shoulder onto the barista tasked with composing the drinks. “I request to personally speak to the one who committed this atrocity.”

Despite the number of attempts, it was evident Shiro would not convince this man to leave. With an apologetic cringe, Shiro craned his head back to Keith, chuckling sheepishly.

Keith, having heard the exchange, simply rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, proceeding to join Shiro at his side.

Waving at his friend as an indication to return to other customers, Keith wiped his hand on the towel in hand, then placed it aside as he leaned on the bar.

“Yes?” He asked, his eyes boring into the other’s.

The young man crossed his arms with a huff.

“Not only did you misspell my name, but you also gave me the wrong drink.”

Keith hummed in half-hearted acknowledge. “And why did you not simply remake the request?”

Lance seemed almost baffled.

“Because,” Lance but hissed. “You misspelled my name.”

Keith was already tired of this. “Yes, and?”

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Terrible Things Part 6

Imagine Dean surprising you for your birthday.

Author: hogwartsismyhometoo

Word Count: 2,472

Read Part (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)


Y/N

Traveling with the Winchesters was like falling asleep after a really bad day and having the best dreams. I found a great quote by Dr. Seuss that I scribbled down and left for Dean in his hunting bag: “You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” That’s what being with Dean was. I tossed and turned every night, every inch of my body tingling with energy and anticipation of the next day, the next hunt.

And it wasn’t just Dean, it was everyone. It was belonging, it was being a misfit then finding your place in a group full of them. It was knowing that you had a place in the bed next to the man you loved, a seat in the back of the car reserved for you, an ongoing conversation with your family. It was having nothing but the open road ahead of you. It was adventure and laughter and passion and love. It was Sam’s hugs, Charlie’s bad puns, Cas’ comfort, Dean’s kisses. It was all of it and it was mine.

My mind used to wander back to Starryedge and to the diner for the first few weeks on the road. But after realizing that there was no going back, that there was nothing worth going back for, the details of the town started to blur in my mind. I couldn’t remember what Hadley looked like anymore, couldn’t recall what color my bathroom had been painted. Then I realized I didn’t care.

The bunker, the Impala, Dean, this was my home now. This is right where I wanted to be.

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Oh no, he’s THAT customer (Pietro X Reader)

Nony asked

“i’m a new employee at starbucks and you’re always coming in here with these long orders of triple shots whatevers, and that’s kind of annoying so i purposely misspell your name every time Pietro x reader”

So here ya go Nony, I hope you like it ^_^

Characters: Pietro X Reader
Warnings: None/SFW
Word count: 821

Originally posted by knightofthefandom


Your name: submit What is this?


Click the blue box ^ and enter your name for a more customized experience

So far, you’re first week had been completely ok. You were a new employee at Starbucks, and surprisingly, you had yet to run into an annoying, over worked, under paid, customer. Yes, it was actually going quite smoothly…Until he started coming in.

“Hello, what can I get for you?” You asked sweetly, catching the man off guard, as you were actually the only female worker there.

“Hello krasota (beauty)” He spoke, his voice held a thick Russian accent, which you had to admit, paired with his features, made him pretty attractive.

“I’ll have a 5 shot venti, 2/5th decaf, ristretto shot, 1pump Vanilla, 1pump Hazelnut, breve, 1 sugar in the raw, with whip, caramel drizzle on top, free poured, 4 pump mocha.” he smiled, you blinked for a moment, before trying to remember it all as you put it in the register.

“Will that be all?” You asked, your mind was a bit annoyed at the man, but you tried to tell yourself to breath, this was Starbucks after all, some orders would be annoying.

“Yes” He smiled.

“Can I have your name please?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Only if I can have your number” He smiled while leaning on the counter.

“It’s for your order sir” You smiled, fully used to guys flirting by now.

“Pietro” he replied, oh that was going to be fun to try and get right.

“Your order will be right up sir” You smiled, putting the money in the register, and glancing behind him to make sure there wasn’t anyone else, before going to make his drink. You were a few people short today, so you found yourself rushing around more than normal. After finishing his drink, you tried your best to write his name correctly, though you were sure you still got it wrong. Saying it and spelling it often ended very different in the English language.

Calling out the name, you slightly gasped when the man was suddenly standing before you.

“Here you go sir” you smiled.

“Thank you very much printsessa” He smiled, before winking, and making his way out of the building. You had hoped that would be the last complicated order you would get…But of course, you were wrong. For the next two weeks, once a day, Pietro would come in, and order these really long and complicated drinks. You wanted to slap him, but knowing you would lose your job if you did, you settle for the next best thing…Misspelling his name on purpose.

At first he didn’t seem to mind, but by the end of the two weeks, he finally decided to ask.

“Why do you always spell my name wrong?” He spoke, leaning against the counter while he watched you make the drink.

“Do I sir? I apologize” You spoke, glancing up at him for a minute.

“I think you do it on purpose” he teased.

“Why would I do such a thing sir?” You asked

“That is what I am trying to figure out” He added.

“Well I am very sorry if I have upset you sir, here” You spoke, handing him the drink.

“Is that spelled correctly?” You asked, to which he nodded.

“Have a nice day sir” You smiled, before turning around to work on the next drink, but Pietro didn’t move.

“You know, you’re the only reason I come here everyday” he confessed, taking a sip of the drink. His words stopped you, you hadn’t honestly thought someone would come everyday to a place just to see you, that stuff only happened in movies.

“Is that so?” you asked, handing the next to drink to the last customer.

“It is, why else would I need this much coffee?” He asked

“I suspected that perhaps, you just liked coffee” You said, raising a brow.

“So tell me, why did you always misspell my name?” He asked, leaning closer. Sighing, you decided to tell him.

“I got annoyed with your long and super complicated orders” You shrugged, you expected him to get offended, but he simply laughed.

“What’s so funny?” You asked.

“I only did it to mess with you” he smiled.

“Wait…What?” You were shocked, he had been making your life annoying for the past two weeks, just so he could mess with you?!

“You…You”

“Easy printsessa, I only did it because you are very cute when you are flustered” he smiled, his statement making your cheeks get hotter. After a moment of you trying to find something to say, he spoke again.

“So y/n, would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, shocking you. You thought about it for a minute, he had completely annoyed you for two whole weeks, simply because he thought you were cute when you were flustered. And he just confessed that he only came in to see you everyday…

“I get off in ten minutes” You smiled.

“I’ll be waiting then” He smiled back.

I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways everyday. AU I’m a busy businessman and my barista keeps misspelling my name in increasingly disrespectful ways, honestly who does this person think they are. AU Kylo Ren x Reader

Monday:

The morning hustle was coming in strong. People from all across town, from parents with toddlers, teenagers trying there best to pull of the hipster look, businessmen and women getting the daily fix before going to their “important” meetings. Then there was him. His suit looked more expensive than my car and house. His long dark hair stylishly tousled, his dark eyes cast over the menu (not that he needed it he always got the same thing), his cheekbones sharp as his jawline which was moving at a hundred miles a minute. He did this everyday. He would come in, make his way through the line, get to the counter all the while talking on his phone. Then the worst part. He would order his venti macchiato while still talking. At first I thought it was just a every other day thing, but boy was I wrong.

Everyday. Without fail, it was almost like clockwork. He entered the doors at 7, made his way to me by at least 7:10, left by 7:15 but not before he looked at the name on his cup then back at me with disgust. The only reason why I guess he would look at me in such a way would be because of the way I spelt his name today. Cilow Den. I know how to spell his name but I choose not to. Reason is if he can’t have the respect to get off the phone and order like a regular person. I’m just going to have to find new ways to misspell his name. He can be reassured I’m very creative

Tuesday:

Morning shift again. The same routine as everyday. He comes in. On his phone. Talking away like nobody’s business, makes his way to the counter and for the first time since he walked in those doors he hangs up the call, looks me straight in the eye.

“You,” he looks down at my nametag, “(Y/n), have misspelled my name more ways than I can count and I would like for you to stop. It has gotten ridiculous. Your mistreatment of my name is downright disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way sir, but it is quite hard to understand your name when you have a tendency to talk on the phone when you order but I will try and remedy that for you,” my eyes baring holes into his voice cold, collected and filled with sarcasm, “Now sir, what can I can I get you today?”

“I’ll have a venti macchiato, and the names is Kylo Ren,” I start filling out the cup and when I’m done I hand it over to have the order filled.

“What an excellent and predictable choice. Next person in line please,” has he walked away I shot him a smirk.

His order was called and I could say for a fact hearing him groan was worth it, especially since he turned back to me a shot me a glare. Today it had been spelt: Kiyloe Ten.


Wednesday:

I was shocked to find that he didn’t come in today, maybe even a little disappointed. It felt like part of my day was missing. Spelling his name wrong, him shooting me that little glare, the smirk I would shoot back. It felt like part of my day is missing, but I pushed on hanging up my apron. Making my way out of the door and to the supermarket. I was making my way up and down the aisles, and I to grab my favorite box of cereal only to find another hand reaching at the same time. I look over to apologize only to come face to face with the dark eyes that I normally see every morning. The eyes belonging to the same man who’s name I misspell every time as well.

“You didn’t come in today,” I state point my finger at him accusingly.

“What were you waiting for me,” a smirk settles across his face as he leans slightly against the shelves.

“N-no. Of course not. It just you always come in and I always spell your name wrong kinda like a routine.”

“So you weren’t just waiting for me, you missed me,” he says leaning down slightly so we are looking each other in the eyes.

“As if. All you do is talk on your phone, rather rudely I might add, and it makes my job a lot harder when someone comes in and can’t even give the respect to put their phone down and order like a regular person.” I snap back getting even closer to his face until we are nose to nose.

“I wasn’t on the phone yesterday when I ordered and I think that one was the worst by far.” I can practically feel his words on my lips before I step back grab my box of cereal.

“Still you say I’m the rude one, which I guess I kinda am, but you still have yet to be the slightest bit polite to me and you’ve been coming to my coffee shop for almost a year,” I turn back to my basket and walk away leaving hopefully a stunned man in my wake.


Thursday:

Here he comes. Right now he is at the back of the line and instead of talking on the phone it looks like he’s texting. He keeps glancing up at me almost as if he knows I’m sneaking glances at him myself, and every time he does catch me he shoots me the smirk that causes my face to heat up. It feels like ages before he gets to the counter but before he does he places his phone in his pocket. Then he looks up at the menu running his hand through his thick hair before looking at me smirk resting on his face.

“(Y/n), what do you recommend I get today?” He rests his arms on the counter leaning so we are face to face.

“You’re asking me? What you should get to drink this morning?”

“Yes, yes I am. Trying new things, testing the waters,” he states as he leans in closer, “seeing how far I can test the limits. I just want to be… what did you say yesterday,” he pauses as if to act like he’s thinking, “Polite. That was the word. I’m trying to be as polite as possible. So what do you recommend I get to quench my thirst?” The look on his face is nowhere near polite it’s downright predatory. And I don’t know how I should handle it but I should probably not just stand there and let the wolfish look in his face turn me into a shivering mess.

“You should get the (Y/n) special.” I say leaning closer to him as well if he wants to play let him play he’s not the only one who knows the rules.

“Oh, the (Y/n) special huh? And what might that contain?”

“It’s a surprise. Just for you,” I turn to my co-worker, who based of the redness on her face and neck has been watching us the whole time as well as the entire morning rush, and say, “Hey take the orders for me I have to make a specialty.” She rushes over to the counter as I make the (Y/n) special, feeling his hungry eyes on me the entire time.

“Here you go. A nice (Y/n) special. Hot and ready to go,” I hand him the drink letting my hand linger just a bit so he had to touch it.

“That it is, later (Y/n),” with that he turns on his heel and basically strunts away, and I’m content to watch until I hear a very panicked voice.

“(Y/N)! A LITTLE HELP HERE,” and I turn and there is my co-worker cover in coffee cups and what looks to be whipped cream. Before I go over to help her I hear a deep laugh make it’s ways to my ears as he finally exits the cafe shooting me a wink before letting the door close behind him. The spelling of today: Kylo “Polite My Ass” Ren.


Friday:

The last day of the week. After today I can spend my weekend watching Netflix and eating pizza to my heart’s consent. The way to end any good week. I just had to make it through today which wouldn’t be to hard. The Friday crowd wasn’t large and it would mostly be a quiet shift. So to occupy myself, since to only people to come in so far were a mother and her to little kids, I was cleaning the counter over and over again while listening to my jam playlist. The cleaning turned more into dancing and soon I was making a fool outta myself in an empty cafe. Or so I thought.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, as a scream escaped my mouth and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned around and there he was Kylo Ren looking like the cat who ate the canary. But he looked different. His usual suit gone replaced with a red jumper, jeans, and what looked to be combat boots. All in all he looked normal. He looked hot. I was gaping up at him look of either awe or shock across my face but either way it brought him into a near fit. As he started laughing. The deep laugh I had heard yesterday had definitely been him, but hearing it so close almost weaken me to my knees. So I tried my best to regain my composure.

“So what can I get for you today?”

“No need to be so formal with me now, I mean I just saw you dance,” he does that really annoying air quote around the word dance.

“Okay, Kylo what can I get ya?”

“I’ll have another (Y/n) special, and your number so we can take this out of the cafe. And maybe dinner,” he leans his back against the counter shooting me a look over his shoulder.

“Are you flirting with me,” I say as I drop the empty cup with his name on it, whipping around to look at him, he turns around and leans his arms on the counter.

“No. Yesterday I was flirting with you. Today I’m asking you out. So what do you say?”

I’ve picked up the cup, before making his coffee all the while still not having answered him, probably because I’ve gotten lost in my head, but that ends when he clears his throat and looks at me.

“So yes or no?”

“Oh. Hmmm,” I tap my finger on my chin, “hmmm. I don’t know.”

“Well if you’re that indecisive I will just take that as a no,” he starts to make his way to the door.

“Wait,” he stops and turns back, “yes.”

“Yes what,” he says as he makes his way back to the counter where I have his drink.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow and don’t worry I like you so it will be casual,” he places the amount due on the counter, talking to cup of coffee from me with a kiss on the cheek and leaves but not before shooting my heated face a wink.

Today’s cup: Kylo Ren “Is a smooth talking little shit” xxx-xxx-xxx.

Fic: First Sight

Based off this AU idea: We’re the only two people in the DMV and we’re filling out papers silently when you look over and ask me what colour eyes I think you have

~985 words, PG.

Blaine sighed as he started filling out the form the DMV lady had given him, already tired of dealing with bureaucracy even though he was one of two customers currently in the building - showing up right after they opened was a surprisingly good idea. The other man was in the chair/desk combination to his left, already busily writing down answers as Blaine approached the desk and asked for a driver’s license application.

Focus, Anderson, he told himself, actually taking in the information being requested instead of just blindly putting in answers. You’d hate to misspell your own name on an official government document. Shit, could I be arrested for falsifying my identity if I have a misspelled driver’s license? Would it still be a valid form of ID?

“Hey,” the other man said quietly, breaking Blaine out of his increasingly absurd thought spiral. “Can I ask you a potentially weird question?”

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lenfaz  asked:

Prompt: CS AU "I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways every day AU" Which goes with "I’m a busy businessperson and my barista keeps misspelling my name in increasingly disrespectful ways, honestly, who does this person think they are AU" Take your time and thanks!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! It’s more of just funny ways to spell the name instead of disrespectful. I had a lot of fun with this prompt. YOU SHOULD TOTALLY SEND ME MORE WHEN YOU GET THEM.


.~.

It’s not his fault that he has a constantly busy job as a businessman who has to deal with multiple phone calls a day. And not to mention the fact that all of these phone calls are usually early in the morning - precisely a reason he despises being his own business owner, instead of a mere employee. But when business calls, it calls.

He’s usually not that bad of a person, at least, that’s what he thinks he is. In fact, he believes he is a decent gentleman who does everything he possibly can to reach his own standards and to be capable of pleasing himself - to feel satisfaction.

And it’s particularly difficult to get to work early with a clear mind after a rather heated phone call when the barista who spells his name wrong every day and every time he orders a drink does so again. The first time he only thought of it as a mistake and the second, he just simply decided to ignore it… but it starts to get rather frustrating every time he takes his drink to notice the misunderstanding of how to spell “Killian.”

“No, Mr. Smee, that is not what we have sent orders in for,” he complains, nodding at the barista (no mention to the beautiful blonde with a raised brow, definitely not) who just knows his normal by now. “Perhaps if you cannot complete such a simple task, I’ll have your bloody behind out of my company so you can rattle your way to find another occupation instead of dragging down this one.”

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