DeadSpresso

This is not a fanfic.
It's an original sapphic slow-burn featuring a barista with issues and a customer with good taste in women, ahem coffee.
Any resemblance to real-life sapphic icons is purely coincidental and definitely not my fault. I was just writing. They walked in.
If you see Becky and Freen... that's between you, your imagination or your Wi-Fi 😁

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☕ DeadSpresso

They said it was just coffee.
One order. One name. One girl with eyes like unfinished stories.

But then she kept coming back.
Same time. Same seat. Same drink.

Dara wasn't looking for love.
She was looking for the will to survive another shift without setting the espresso machine-or herself-on fire.
Her secret? Well-hidden.
Her feelings? Not so much.

Rin didn't flirt.
She just existed-quiet, unreadable, and infuriatingly composed.
The kind of girl who could ruin your routine just by looking at you too long.

One of them is already spiraling.
The other hasn't even noticed she started the storm.

There's no confession.
Just coffee orders with too much eye contact,
shared silences that say too much,
and garlic-way too much garlic.

This isn't a love story.
It's emotional warfare with a caffeine budget.

And if you've ever fallen for someone across a counter and hated yourself for it...
Welcome to DeadSpresso.