He’d been raised to run, to sacrifice everything and everyone to ensure his own survival. His mother had never given him ground to stand on. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been strong enough to save her in the end. A jumble of lies had nothing to fight for. But Neil Josten was a Fox. Andrew called this home; Nicky called him family. Neil wasn’t going to lose any of it.
Coffee Shop AU where Eren has been trying to woo Levi with increasingly intricate latte art. Only Levi doesn’t really notice. But he does notice how long it takes. And he does notice that it’s cold. So finally after Eren has drawn a pair of wings and set down the cup batting his eyelashes, Levi has had enough.
“Look, I just want it scalding hot and I can do without all this foamy bullshit, so please, for next time, just make it quick so I can get out of here and get back to work, okay?”
The barista behind the counter glared at him, but Levi was too busy glued to his phone to notice.
The next time he came through Hanji bounced about peeking over the counter.
“A heart! A tree! A leaf! No! It’s–”
“Will you stop guessing? And you–” Levi snapped his fingers. “Messy apron! Let’s get going here. Don’t entertain this idiot.”
He set down Hanji’s latte carefully.
“A cat!” they crowed with delight snapping a picture for their Instagram.
“Why do you insist we come here?” Levi said impatiently, checking his phone again. “I hate our society’s obsession with aesthetic over content. Sure it looks good, but you’re just getting cold fucking foam over coffee that tastes like shit.”
The barista finally finished with Levi’s cup and set it down.
“Finally,” Levi said picking it up.
He paused for a moment to examine the little turd that the barista had crafted complete with small flies buzzing about. He snorted.
What no rose this time?” Levi drawled and when the barista continued to watch him with his arms folded over his chest, Levi curled his fingers over the rim of the cup and took a long sip. “I don’t even care.”
The barista’s look darkened. Yet, he did not let up. The next day Levi received a cup with a middle finger made of foam. The day after that he received a frown-y face. Then the day after that he was actually given an iced latte by his barista nemesis.
And then on a Wednesday he found a plain foamy drink in front of him.
“Finally give up did you?” Levi tried to keep the smirk out of his voice, but it wasn’t his usual barista, it was a smaller, blonde man. “Oh. Where’s the other guy?”
“Oh Eren? He quit.”
Quit. The words fell on Levi like ton of bricks.
The next day, his barista–Eren–still wasn’t there. Did he really quit? And quit over Levi? Levi paced as he waited for his drink, flexing his fingers in an agitated manner. The newer barista set down his cup and Levi seized upon him.
“Did he say where he went? Messy Apron–er, Eren. I mean, people don’t just up and quit jobs for no reason. Did he get a job somewhere else or–?”
Levi didn’t even finish before the barista slowly rotated the cup. Inside was a perfectly drawn arrow. Levi stared at it and then tilted his head before following where it pointed. Behind him he found Eren, sitting at a table, sticking a pen in his hair as he wrote down notes. Levi’s feet seemed to move on their own.
“You shouldn’t–you shouldn’t quit just because someone is an ass to you,” Levi said, fiddling with his scarf. “That’s just–”
“Relax, I didn’t quit, I just took the morning shift,” he said, not looking up from his notes.
“Oh,” said Levi.
“I asked to take it,” Eren emphasized.
“Oh,” said Levi in an even smaller voice.
“I mean, do you have any idea how infuriating it is when you spend so much of your time making something beautiful and to have the person you have a crush on just refuse it? Do you know what it’s like to put that much effort and have them not even notice?”
“Sortof,” said Levi.
“I hate coffee,” Levi blurted out. Confessed was more like it actually. “It’s bitter and it tastes like burnt asshairs. Even cutting it with milk does nothing to the taste. I hate coffee. I’ve always hated coffee. Every time I have it my insides feel like they’re about to fall out.”
Eren threw up his hands in frustration.
“Then why on earth would you come here every day and order–oh. Oh.”
The tips of Levi’s ears went red.
“Then what do you like?” Eren asked.
“Tea,” Levi answered, face now burning.
“Well then,” Eren said, standing up and putting on his coat. “Would you like to get a cup of tea with me?”
“Yes,” said Levi dazedly taking Eren’s extending arm.
Lance + shiro, lance hiding a fever/injury or something (sry if this isn't too creative but you're the best @ langst)
“We have to get back to the lions. We have to form Voltron.”
What Lance said was indubitably true. The Paladins were all running now, through the city streets back to the spaceport on the outskirts of the town, which had the only space big enough for them to park their lions. The Robeast in the fields outside the city continued to shoot its lasers indiscriminately, occasionally hitting buildings near them as the inhabitants screamed and ran.
As usual, Shiro hung back a bit from the group, watching the others run in front of him so he could make sure no one got separated. After a moment, he realized that Lance was lagging behind, too. He was surprised at first, then narrowed his eyes when he remembered that first blast, the one that had alerted them all to the fact that the Robeast was here.
Shiro moved alongside Lance, jogging to keep pace with him. “Lance,” he hissed. “You said you were fine. When that rubble fell down on the street. I knew you got hit. Why did you lie?”
Lance cut a glance over to him, then away, the guilt obvious in his eyes. “We have to get to the lions right away,” he said, voice low. “We don’t have time. It was just a glancing blow.”
Shiro halted in the street and grabbed Lance’s shoulder to stop him. Lance gasped in pain and stiffened up, and Shiro shifted his grip. He knew that chunk of broken building had hit Lance somewhere around there. He leaned in closer, looking for blood. He couldn’t see anything through the armor, and he didn’t want to make Lance strip if it wasn’t necessary, but if this was a bad injury, it needed to be dealt with right away. Before Lance ended up passing out in the cockpit or something like that.
Lance refused to look at him, leaning away tensely, though he did not try to slip out of Shiro’s grasp. “Dude, I’m fine. Really. I can handle it.”
Shiro clenched his teeth. This went against every single one of his instincts as Lance’s leader. And friend. He did not want to ask this kid to fight wounded, not if he could do anything to prevent it.
Lance looked into his eyes, strong and steady. No longer trying to escape, to brush off Shiro’s concern. “Shiro,” he said quietly, seriously. “Yes, I lied. I got hit. But I’m walking. I’m not concussed. We have to go and fight. Please, trust me. I’ll get treated when this is over.”
Shiro’s fingers tightened involuntarily around Lance’s arm, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, grimacing. He hated this. Hated it. He wanted to send Lance back to the castle so Coran could check him out right now.
But another blast hit a nearby building, and Hunk shouted in fear somewhere up ahead, and Lance was right. They couldn’t wait. They had to get to the lions now, and they had to fight, and Lance’s injury would have to wait.
“Okay.” Shiro let go of Lance’s arm and looked into his face. “I trust you. But you’d better believe I’m gonna make sure you get taken care of as soon as possible.”
Lance grinned. “Of course.”
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