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rainydaycafe · 11 months

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A Shaken Espresso, Please

Pairing: Professor! Stephen Strange au x OC fem! graduate school student (and barista)!

Summary: Professor Strange has a reputation that proceeds him and a finicky taste for off-campus coffee. Enter a graduate school attending barista. This is their story.

Warnings: age difference (older Stephen), and an inhumane amount of fluff with tumultuous thoughts

A/N: hope u enjoy and hope it alters ur existence- send me prompt requests for this story or others and I'll kiss u !

Chapter 2

Professor Stephen Strange had many reputations.

All of them were accurate descriptions of his person, admittedly. Even if a few of them were a bit hyperbolic and created by those students who were unable to properly keep up with the academic rigor his courses demanded.

Regardless of these various titles- arrogant, belittling, hardass, irritable, impatient, demanding, extremely intelligent, omnipotent, and plenty more- he was a damn good professor.

There was a reason why every semester he had an extremely long waitlist of students praying for a spot within his lecture hall and plenty of emails of students looking for a reason to jump the waitlist.

His ability to teach and to demand only the best was something that somewhat masochistic college students sought despite their better judgment because he truly was the best of the best.

Everyone knew that his reputation was hard earned as it was common knowledge that Stephen Strange had graduated high school and undergrad a year early. Excelling high above his elder peers in medical school and in his internship before there was an accident before his residency matching which caused him to settle into the life of a well respected professor at Dartmouth College.

Those who can’t do, teach.

Neuroscience was his playground, and the biological sciences department was just what he needed to teach courses full of the select few who would actually do well in their hopeful careers.

Despite his intolerance for laziness and inability to understand it- Stephen did enjoy teaching. It was always a plus to inspire the newest generation of the scientific community.

Emilia, however?

She was completely oblivious to the very existence of Professor Strange and that reputation that followed him around campus.

Stepping into Professor Barlow’s office on the third floor of the English department, she expected to receive the weekly quizzes Professor Barlow asked her to grade but instead she received the quizzes and a manilla folder.

“The manilla folder is more of a favor for me,” Barlow said, “Would you be able to take this to Professor Strange? It’s a transfer request acceptance. Since he’s the head of the biological sciences department, he needs to sign off on the approval like I did,”

“Oh sure,” Emilia said with a smile, “Where can I find him?”

“Oh shit what time is it even?” Barlow said pulling up his sleeve, “I don’t really know his schedule but if he’s not in his office on the fourth floor then he’ll preparing a lab, I believe,”

Emilia told him she’d find him and left Professor Barlow with a wave which he returned.

Professor Barlow was never meant to be the professor she TA’d for considering the fact that she had rescinded her application to be a TA after obtaining a better job elsewhere but apparently her email went unopened because a week before the semester she was the TA to the head of the English department.

He was kind, however, so she didn’t have the heart to just quit and leave him without a TA for a course he so desperately needed one for.

So she stayed and she was able to find the balance between her job at the cafe and as a TA quite easily since Professor Barlow wasn’t one to rely on TAs too heavily so she just did the little tasks he asked of her.

The biological sciences department wasn’t one Emilia had ever actually stepped foot in. Or near. So she had to bring up the campus’ map to find where it actually was which happened to be across campus so she made the trek.

The elevators happened to be commandeered by busy students so she huffed her way up the stairs and took a bit of a break leaning on a nearby wall to gather her breath because those stairs were no joke.

For a department so well loved and funded a person would assume their stairs would be less steep somehow.

Deep inside Emilia hoped he would be in his office because she wasn’t sure where the labs were so it would save her some time to find him somewhere that had a label with his name.

Now that she thought about it as she read the plaques outside of the doors, she had no idea what the man even looked like so she couldn’t even look for him in the labs…

Before she thought herself into a spiral, she read the name Stephen V. Strange PhD & MD on a plaque.

What could the V be for?

StephenVery Strange? That got a bit of a giggle out of her but she straightened up because it wasn’t kind to make fun of the names people had.

Emilia took a confidence boosting breath and knocked on the shut door.

And waited.

“Come in,” a deep voice said and Emilia grimaced a bit before opening the door to reveal a man typing away at his computer, not bothering to even glance up at her which was a bit rude perhaps.

“Are you here to have me read over your lab report for Navigational and Spatial Orientation?” He asked.

“Uh- no. I’m here for Professor Barlow. He asked me to bring this over to you,” Emilia said, waiting for him to actually look up from his computer to hand him the folder so she didn’t look like too much of an idiot.

He did, thankfully, and man was he handsome.

Taking the envelope, Stephen’s gaze lingered on Emilia, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was being studied and she moved her own gaze elsewhere towards the line of books placed on shelf as he opened the file.

“Mmm, yes, the student who is transferring his master’s from neurobiology to… English,” Stephen said as his eyes glanced at the words, “I got an email about this and meant to respond but I put it off long enough to just forget,”

Unsure of what to say, Emilia watched him quietly as he read through the words carefully. He had broad shoulders and nice hair. She quickly snapped herself out of those thoughts.

“You’re not a biological sciences student, are you?” Stephen asked, looking up from the paperwork to pay her his full attention.

“No, not at all,” Emilia answered with a shake of her head, feeling a bit nervous.

“I didn’t think so. I would have recognized you. What are you studying?” Stephen asked curiously as his eyes took in her features. Something about the way she seemed to curl under his attention made him want to give her more.

“English. I’m working towards my masters in English,”

“English. I never understood the appeal of sitting around and discussing what Keats meant in this poem or what was implied,” Stephen told her with a bit of a smile as he leaned back in his chair, “Seems like an endless discussion,”

“It’s not for everyone,” Emilia said with a shrug, not finding herself in the mood to defend her chosen career path.

It wasn’t the first time someone had spoken ill about her career, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“The sciences never caught your attention?” Stephen asked with genuine curiosity since he couldn’t imagine a life where it hadn’t caught his own full attention.

Emilia thought for a moment, attempting to find the words without being disrespectful towards Stephen’s career and studies as he observed her and got an eyeful.

“I was never very good. I barely passed high school chemistry and intro to biology in undergrad,” Emilia confessed, “I also don’t do well with math,”

Stephen huffed out a bit of a laugh, “You just needed teachers who taught well and thoroughly,” He said as he turned to grab a pen to sign off on the indicated line where Professor Barlow had helpfully highlighted in a bright pink circle he knew was meant to mock.

Considering the fact Emilia didn’t know how to add fractions or any math after long division, she knew she had always been a lost cause but there was no need to have him think she had even more shortcomings so she kept it to herself.

Shutting the folder, Stephen handed it to her.

“Tell Barlow that I wish Damien the best of luck reading all of those books and poems,” Stephen said, “He wasn’t up to neuroscience, I suppose it wasn’t for him,”

Emilia knew he was teasing her own words and despite her strong will to avoid it, she blushed and took the envelope and looked down.

“I will tell him, Professor. Have a nice day,” Emilia said with a smile and short wave that Stephen returned with amusement in his eyes before taking her leave and all but sprinting down the hallway towards the stairs.

Going down the steps, Emilia sighed a bit to herself.

There was something almost damning and humiliating when it came to finding someone unobtainable attractive but then adding the fact that they thought little to nothing of your major was really just the icing on the cake.

Looking up to the pretty blue sky, Emilia took a deep breath and decided she’d dwell on it while walking to work after dropping off the damn manilla folder to Professor Barlow.

Unbeknownst to her, Stephen was watching her from the window in his office with a smile as she made her way back to what he assumed was Professor Barlow’s office.

__________

“He actually signed it right away?” Professor Barlow asked in shock, his freshman English student who he had been helping sat quietly watching the conversation, “He usually takes at least two days and even then I have to chase him around,”

“He also said to tell you that he wishes the best of luck to Damien reading all of the books and poems,” Emilia told him.

“Yeah that sounds much more like Stephen. Curious that he actually signed it, but maybe he liked someone’s company,” Professor Barlow teased, but Emilia just smiled because she knew there was no way her presence in what had to be a holy office in the biology department would be enjoyed.

_____________

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he exited the lecture hall, Stephen glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was definitely time for a bit of a caffeine trip because he had not had his morning coffee in favor of tutoring a student.

With two hours until his next class, he quickly made his way through the building without bothering to glance at anyone in the hall since they’d just serve to make his blossoming headache even worse.

The on-campus Starbucks and other cafes would be chalked full of students and faculty so he decided his expedition would take him off campus to a smaller yet much more reliable cafe he had discovered the year prior.

Modern enough to have their own versions of lattes but not enough to be a bit too obsessed with coffee for his liking and comfort.

It was a 25 minute walk at a leisurely pace but he had never been one to walk leisurely anywhere so he made it in 18 minutes as he ran through his 4pm Ethical Conduct of Research.

This week they’d be discussing the ethics surrounding research on larger more developed animals to say a rat or a guinea pig.

Pulling the door open, his eyes quickly attached themselves to the menu to consider his options.

He had always been partial to a black coffee but had come to the realization that espresso had more impact on him and his energy levels.

Their shaken espressos had always got him through even the most tiresome of days so he thought it’d be unwise to stray.

As Stephen was so busy weighing out his flavor options, he didn’t notice who was standing behind the bar munching away on a banana as she read through her weekly reading for Comparative Lit and Criticism during some down time.

Attempting to make sense of Adorno’s criticisms, Emilia was completely focused but she was soon losing her focus when she heard a familiar voice ordering.

A voice she had heard a few hours ago.

“Hello, could I have a large chocolate malt shaken espresso? I’ll add a splash of half and half as well,” Emilia stared at him from over the edge of her reading to see Professor Strange ordering.

Hoping he wouldn’t notice her at all, Emilia kept her head down as Eliza wrote down “Stephen” on the cup and she began pulling the shots of espresso from the large machine.

Taking the cup from her coworker, Emilia began to work on the drink and willed herself to not even spare Professor Strange a glance because she didn’t want to gather any unwanted attention.

Thankfully it seemed that he was busy on his phone so she relaxed a bit as she gathered the ice into the shaker alongside the malt powder.

Stephen however was not an oblivious man which meant after he had checked his work email he looked up to see the barista was utterly familiar.

The same girl from earlier was working here, as fate had it. He still didn’t know her name, however, as she hadn’t introduced herself and he couldn’t see a nametag on her apron.

Smiling to himself, Stephen moved closer to the bar where she shook the espresso and ice together with her back to him before turning around, startling when she saw him there.

“I had no idea you worked here,” Stephen said casually watching her ministrations.

“Yeah, I’m a modern day jack of all trades,” She said without thinking, pausing when she realized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. It was more of a joke,”

“I didn’t think it was rude,” Stephen reassured, “I don’t see a nametag and I didn’t get your name earlier,”

Pouring the drink into the cup, she glanced up at him with a smile before looking back down, “Emilia,”

“Emilia?...” Stephen asked beckoning for her last name.

“Pearson. Emilia Pearson,” Emilia filled in before glancing at the cup where h/h was written, “Did you also want milk or just a splash of half and half?”

“Just half and half, please,”

Stephen smiled as she grabbed the half and half from a fridge somewhere underneath the counter and poured some in, showing it to him to see if it was enough.

“That’s perfect,”

Snapping a lid onto his drink, Emilia willed any caffeine loving God to make the drink good so he didn’t have any other reason to think little of her.

Stephen swirled the drink around before taking a sip, giving an appreciative nod.

“This is delicious, thank you, Emilia Pearson,” He said genuinely, “Have a nice day,”

Waving bye, Emilia watched as he took his exit and she soon turned her attention back to her reading and banana, but her mind was elsewhere.

She would have sworn that it was like a curse she had to find people that would never give her a second look attractive.

It reminded her of having a crush on a celebrity that would never bat an eye if they crossed paths with you in real life. But it never hurt to have celebrity crushes either, nobody was at fault for them being so damn attractive.

It was impossible to deny that the man was handsome, though. His intelligence was evident, adding to his overall attractiveness and she had barely learned of his existence today so she did not want to imagine how bad her crush would be in a few weeks.

However she knew she could be grateful that she would probably never encounter him again and that she was probably a piece of dust in his overall busy mind and life.

Of course there was going to be the off chance of encountering him again when he came around to the cafe, but there was no point in getting her hopes up so she turned her attention back to the reading entirely since she had a discussion post to answer before midnight.

As she didn’t think of him, Stephen pressed the crosswalk button as he took a sip from his coffee and smiled to himself.

With his work and his overall attitude towards romance Stephen had never been too caught up on dating or finding a partner as he hadn’t ever considered it and it had never been at the forefront of his mind.

Which isn’t to say he was considering dating Emilia, but as he crossed the street he wondered to himself if she happened to have a boyfriend or girlfriend to whom she went home to. Someone she confided in and felt relaxed around.

He didn’t think he’d mind being that person either as he began running through the upcoming lecture he had to give, knowing he’d be receiving emails requesting clarifications on this and that.

____

The following day was normal and Emilia was grateful as she corrected freshman English quizzes during the gap she had between lectures.

While it wasn’t too fun having three lectures back to back on Thursdays, the gap between the second and third gave her a chance to finish off assignments. Plus it freed up her Fridays so it meant she was able to work 7-4 and have the weekends off.

Considering the fact that the quizzes she had graded were pop quizzes given as punishment for speaking when Professor Barlow was speaking, she didn’t think they were all that bad.

In less than an hour she had finished the quizzes alongside the notes Professor Barlow liked to add either commemorating students for doing well or giving some bit of advice if they didn’t do too hot.

After the quizzes she felt she was on the brink of starvation so she quickly threw together a salad while blasting music as she sang around her kitchen and waited for the chicken to finish up in the oven.

“Green eyes, fried rice, I could cook an egg on you,” Emilia sang along as she danced around her kitchen, Late night, game time, coffee on the stove, yeah,”

Sure her kitchen dance moves could use a bit of work but considering the fact that they had never seen the light of day as she had only ever gone to a club once, she thought they were pretty fitting for Music For a Sushi Restaurant

Pausing, she pulled out the chicken and thought about whether Stephen ever danced around his kitchen but chose to push those thoughts aside because one: she didn’t think he seemed like the dancing type, and two: those thoughts wouldn’t lead to a good outcome.

All said and done, she was comfortably in bed relaxing by 9:30 scrolling through her phone after having checked multiple times that her front door was in fact locked and that it hadn’t magically unlocked itself.

Living alone was nice, subletting was even nicer when she didn’t have to pay the full amount of rent and she got to live only a few blocks off campus and only three and a half away from the cafe where she felt she spent an equal amount of time.

Waking up wasn’t ever an enjoyable experience- save for when there was something exciting happening but that rarely if ever happened so Friday morning made her wish she could just roll over and continue sleeping through the morning and into the early afternoon.

However her job awaited and all things considered, she really did enjoy paying for life’s necessities.

Despite her lack of enthusiasm, Emilia showed up that Friday and went about her job without too much hassle throughout the morning bustle that eventually weaned itself out into a much more manageable afternoon hum.

The morning rush was always heavier on Fridays which kept her busy since Maggie, the owner, was manning the pastry and sandwich area and Nora was on cashier Emilia was on her own but at least the rushes made her shift go by faster.

Her busyness meant she went about making drinks without bothering to think about them too much unless they had an alteration which she made a mental note about to avoid having someone practically slam themselves into the counter because God forbid there was too much ice in their latte.

Not even a large, malt chocolate shaken espresso with a splash of half and half.

“Stephen?” Emilia called out, sliding the coffee onto the pickup counter before her thoughts stuttered as it put together the drink and name.

Looking up for what had to be the first time in at least half an hour, she saw Professor Strange heading over to the pickup bar.

He had been watching her busily make drink after drink, calling out name after name, not glancing up for a second.

“Professor. Hi. Hi Professor,” Emilia said dumbly.

“Hi Emilia,” Stephen greeted, “Your hair looks nice today,” He noted her hair which was pulled back in two… French? Braids aside from a few strands which framed her face nicely.

“Oh. Thank you. I like your uh- I like your pants,” Mentally, Emilia slapped herself.

Complimenting pants was for the girls, not the guys.

“Well thank you, I didn’t know you could see them over this glass you can barely see over,” He teased her shorter stature and she smiled a genuine smile before apologizing.

“Sorry, it was the first thing which came to mind but I’m sure they are nice,” Emilia said as she walked over to grab another cup her coworker had kindly placed on the cup when Stephen’s next words were interrupted by a woman rushing up to the counter.

“Excuse me, sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you two but I forgot to ask for oat milk on my caramel latte. I’ll get back in line to pay for it but I wanted to let you know before you make it,” A woman said from behind him, causing him to move away.

“Is it for Stacy?” Emilia asked and the woman nodded, “Okay, I’ll make it with oat milk but you don’t have to pay, it’s okay,” She told her as she waved it off and wrote the change of the order on the cup.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the line had decreased and it was only the person left who was ordering aside from a couple of drinks left for those waiting.

“Did you like your drink?” Emilia asked as she turned her attention back to him, “If you didn’t I can remake it. I didn’t know it was for you or else I would have paid more mind to it,”

Sipping it again, he shrugged.

“It’s good, but I can tell it wasn’t made with love like it was on Wednesday,”

“Let me remake it-” Emilia started but he cut her off.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” Stephen said with a grin, “It’s grand. Brilliant. You’re a lovely barista even when you don’t know it’s for me,”

Unable to find something to say, Emilia smiled bashfully and attempted to conceal her flustered complexion but Stephen was quick to see it.

“I have an undergrad intro course to teach in forty minutes, so I’ll see you soon,” Stephen explained as he glanced at his watch after feeling he had tortured Emilia enough but the flush on her cheeks was something he thought was cute. Sue him.

“Have a nice day, Professor Strange,” Emilia wished, and he wished her the same as he left with a smile.

The slight pep in his step made even the most tedious of courses seem not so bad since his coffee was great and he just felt giddy.

Emilia continued working, but every so often her thoughts would flutter off to Steph- Professor Strange and his presence in front of the bar that morning.

It had left quite the imprint on her mind and she couldn’t deny that.

However when she found herself getting a bit carried away with her thoughts and mentally admiring him for any reason, she caught herself and chastised herself for it.

Not only was the man a professor at the university she attended, she also knew well enough that she had absolutely no chance with him.

He was a professional and apparently in a league of his own so he wasn’t about to go around scraping the bottom of the barrel to date her or even consider dating her. It was useless to even think about it because it would only serve to disappoint her.

Professor Strange would never even think about her in such a way, she was just fooling herself with these tiny spurts of thought.

It wasn’t even funny to think about how little chance she actually stood.

But regardless, she still found herself smiling to herself when she thought about his smile and his teasing comments.

Work went by just a bit faster with that, and Emilia was grateful she was able to enjoy her weekend without a shift dragging on too much.

__________________

All things considered, Stephen did enjoy his profession. Regardless of the seemingly painstaking hours, faculty, and students it was truly as close to his dream as he would be able to get and it was one which commanded respect nonetheless.

Academia had never been his initial pursuit since right out of high school he did everything he could to be admitted into his top choice of medical school with as little delay as possible.

This was possible with both his work ethic and his eidetic memory at play, setting him well ahead of his peers and setting a good yet arrogant head on his shoulders because he was more than capable of succeeding in the medical world.

Internship had flown by, and as he had known since he was fourteen- he was meant to be in the neuroscience speciality specifically as a neurosurgeon.

That was until his car was flipped over at the age of 29 and his entire life was also flipped on its head like he found himself that Wednesday afternoon on his way to buy groceries.

Oftentimes when the accident had just happened and he was in recovery unable to bear the thought of looking at his hands he thought about what would have happened if he had just stayed home and made a sandwich with what was there.

But, like anything, it wasn’t enough and he needed more than what was already there.

Stephen knew that his accident sent a shock through everyone and he was soon in physical therapy attempting to overcome a tremor when he began deciding what was next.

Never having been wealthy, he needed to work somewhere but he knew it wouldn’t just be anywhere because someone with an MD and a PhD needed more than just a high school biology teacher.

There just wasn’t any way that he would allow years and years of painstaking work and sleepless nights go to waste all because one path had been blocked off by unforeseen circumstances.

Being a professor was his chosen plan “b”, but he had opted away from medical school because he knew that even medical school professors needed perfectly steady hands- especially in neuroscience.

While John Hopkins had been his home for a while, he didn’t want to stay there and just be a model of what happens when things go wrong.

It was true: those who can’t do, teach.

Stephen knew he was the perfect example of that but that didn’t mean he wanted to be needlessly reminded every 15 minutes by a curious freshman or an uppity colleague.

More than qualified, Dr. Strange became Professor Strange at the age of 29 (only a couple of months before his 30th birthday, but he still bragged) and he earned his reputation quickly and it was well deserved.

Stephen had never suffered fools, and becoming a professor was not going to change that.

The reputation soon began and followed him only a week after his first day when he had a student leave his classroom in tears after she was unable to recall what the hippocampus did as a future neuroscientist.

However Stephen had worked hard and he had encountered his fairshare of possibly demonic professors but they also happened to be the ones which shaped him into the surgeon he almost was and the professor he now was, so he stuck to it.

“I expect the discussion post to be answered by everyone tonight by midnight. I won’t accept late work. Have a nice day,” Stephen dismissed his lecture hall, praying to some force out there that nobody would stop to ask him about his opinion towards their drafted discussion post because he just wanted to get coffee before his next class.

Time was limited as when he checked only moments beforehand he only had an hour before his next lecture in an hour.

18 minutes to walk there and 18 minutes back needing to consider time to set up a couple of minutes before class… 24 minutes to get his coffee in between the two restricted times.

Thankfully he was able to make his exit painlessly and he found himself pulling the door to his favorite coffee shop only 15 minutes later, shaving off an entire 3 minutes.

Impressive.

Ordering his usual, Stephen was almost surprised to see Emilia out from behind the barista bar sitting at one of the tables with a few sheets of paper in front of her as she evidently corrected something.

A bit disappointed it wasn’t Emilia making his coffee, it soon disappeared as he went over and sat across from her, startling her.

“You’re out from the inside of your box,” Stephen said with a smile.

“Hi Professor Strange, I have a 20 minute break so I’m using it to finish off these quizzes for Professor Barlow,” She explained, “Freshman English is tough,”

Peeking over, he saw she had written a 62% in green marker at the top of the last test.

“62? Holy hell. I sure hope he isn’t a sciences major if he’s failing freshman English,” Stephen said, a bit of his arrogance slipping through, and for the first time in a long time he wished he had kept his mouth shut.

“It’s up from last time. He’s a good writer but he doesn’t test well,” Emilia attempted to defend with soft eyes, knowing that the transition into college level work was tough for some.

“Or he plagiarizes,” Stephen debated, “But I don’t think we should spend this time debating whether or not a freshman is using his brain. How are you? How has your day been? Any plans?”

This earned a smile from Emilia who set down her pen and rested her chin on her knuckles as she paid him his full attention which he really found himself enjoying.

“I am well, a bit tired, but my day has been pretty average. I’m off at 2 so I’m going to go home and take a nap because I couldn’t sleep well last night. After that I’m just doing some homework. Nothing crazy. How about you?”

Stephen pondered it as he looked at Emilia who waited patiently for his answer.

“I am also well and my day has been going well so far, although the lecture I taught before coming here dragged on a bit as early morning lectures tend to do but I have no complaints, much less now. After my last lecture which ends at 3 I’m going home to get ready for his PhD faculty dinner that I’m going to with Professor Palmer. Do you know her? She’s a microbiology and immunology professor,”

The intent listening expression Emilia had fallen, her hands dropping to the table where she grasped at her pen for the sake of doing something with her hands.

“No uh- I don’t really know anyone that’s a part of the science faculty aside from you,” Emilia told him as her gaze went down towards the table and for some unnameable reason, she felt out of her depth and foolish.

Stephen had noticed her change in demeanor and he didn’t know how he could change it back to how open and happy it had been just moments prior. He wasn’t given much time to think about it as his name was called from the pickup counter.

Taking this as her opportunity to leave, even if she still had 5 minutes left of her break, Emilia began cleaning up her papers as Stephen went to pick up his drink.

“Is your break over?” Stephen asked as he returned to see Emilia organizing her papers.

“Yeah, I have to get back into my box,” Emilia said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, placing the quizzes back into their folder before standing.

“I hope you have a nice time at the dinner and with Professor Palmer,” Emilia told him and Stephen felt desperate in a way, desperate to get down to the bottom of what had gone wrong and how he could fix it but time was not in their favor as they both needed to get back to work.

Stephen told her he’d return the next day but she wouldn’t be working. He settled onto Friday when he knew she would be working.

Again, Emilia smiled but it wasn’t that genuine smile he’d grown to enjoy but either way she bid him goodbye and turned to head back to work and he left to do the same although with a nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away.

The walk back to campus was thoughtful as Stephen tried to pinpoint the exact moment the conversation between them had gone to hell and how he could have been so foolish. It had been going well since Emilia had been open and smiling at him, paying him her full and devoted attention which was nice and suddenly like a book snapping shut; it was over and she had stepped back into her shell.

Placing the folder back into her backpack which she kept in the break room, she zipped it up with a bit more force than necessary but she needed to find a way to get rid of the stupid whirlwind of emotions that were overtaking her.

Grabbing her apron and retying it around her waist, she let out a deep breath because even if she felt frustrated she knew that at the end of the day, she was just really sad.

Ever since Professor Strange had come into the cafe and had made conversation with her, despite her better judgment, a part of her hand actually got her own hopes up about it all.

“What if” was a dangerous road to travel and Emilia had traveled it nonstop it seemed.

In an ignorant way, she had convinced herself that it all meant something. That he had been coming around because he wanted to talk to her and that he felt that little spark she felt between them but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

Of course, as an older, well respected, well educated professor he was going to be into people who were also on the same playing field. Not some graduate student who was working two jobs and spent her nights alone in her apartment.

Heading back out to the bar to relieve Maggie, Emilia thinks about how far out of her league the man is and how it’s actually a bit painful to think about again since it isn’t the first time she’s come to this realization.

New Hampshire was home to countless intelligent and beautiful women

Stephen wanted someone who was his equal, not an English master’s degree student who wore an apron to work and whose career path he evidently didn’t think much of.

Emilia’s career path was for her own sake because she loved the possibilities higher education in literature offered and she wasn’t about to start feeling remorse or as though it weren’t a good enough career path because of a ridiculous crush.

Even though she knew she was successful and was making her way in the world- it was still as disappointing to know that your feelings were not reciprocated both equally at 13 and 25.

Regardless of her emotional turmoil, however, drinks still needed to be made and caffeine was still a necessity so she got to work.

_______________________

By the time Friday rolled around and Emilia began getting ready for work she convinced herself that the way she was meticulously picking out her outfit for work was not because of any particular reason.

Okay.

So maybe the way she had pulled her hair back into a half up half down style with a clip that just so happened to perfectly match the light cardigan she was wearing which matched her shoes which had the jeans that made her ass look fantastic…

It was for her own sake, Emilia told herself because when she looked good she felt good.

It also did not hurt to look great when Professor Strange was going to come by. That was just a fun little addition to it all.

The assumption that he would come in around the time he had last time was correct and Emilia began pulling the adequate shots of espresso as soon as he began ordering, pretending to be nonchalant and feigning ignorance.

This wasn’t her strongsuit it seemed because Stephen had caught her glancing at him as soon as he stepped foot in the place but he thought it was sweet so he smiled to himself as it gave him the extra boost of confidence he needed.

Walking over to the bar, Stephen greeted her and watched as Emilia grabbed the shaker bottle.

“So if someone were to make you a coffee, what would it be?” Stephen asked.

“What?” Emilia asked in a way she found stupid because the question was clear.

“You know my coffee order,” Stephen said with a casual shrug, leaning his hip against the counter ever so slightly, “It’s only right I know yours as well,”

Emilia paused her movements as she thought about it.

The taste of coffee itself wasn’t all too appealing to her, and it had never been. A bit ironic with how she worked at a coffee shop but she did enjoy coffee drinks when they were creamy, sweet, and didn’t make her gag with the strength of the coffee.

From their own menu and, despite her support of small businesses, Starbucks- she always got a brown sugar shaken espresso with extra oat milk.

It hadn’t disappointed her yet and it was the perfect, most delicious-

“Look,” Stephen said with a nervous strain in his voice Emilia had never been privy to, watching as he shifted his weight uncomfortable, “I’m trying to ask you to dinner,”

Jesus Christ.

Who knew a person could be so dense?

“So, Emilia, will you go to dinner with me?” Stephen asked, “I’d like to talk without a counter between us or a time limit,”

The world seemingly narrows to the man standing in front of her. The professor she had encountered by just the chance circumstances life provided was all she noticed for that moment, even if in the back of her mind she knew that the cashier was watching intently and a few other lingering customers were watching because really, who didn’t love gossip? Plus Stephen had been exactly whispering.

The world is Stephen- tall, handsome, intelligent, confident Stephen who could probably have any person he laid eyes on wanted Emilia. Small, shy, thoughtful Emilia who often goes unnoticed but not by him it seemed.

Emilia opens and closes her mouth for a moment but she tells herself to get it together.

“I- yes,” Emilia finally said, “I would love to,”

The happiness that painted Stephen’s face was enough to light up a city block.

Was it weird how crazy she was about him considering she didn’t even know him? Maybe. But this wasn’t the time to dissect the inner workings of her affections.

In another world, perhaps a romantic comedy of sorts, Emilia would have left her shift right then and there to go out with Stephen. Stephen would have also abandoned his Friday lectures and office hours and they would have gone out together.

A lovely dinner would be shared with them where Emilia would open up and Stephen would also open up, breaking the ice and shaking off the seemingly permanent arrogant exterior he wore with everyone but her for the night. Maybe even forever.

But this was not that world.

“Do you live here or something? Can I have your number to contact you?” Stephen asks with the same smile.

“Yeah I live here under the counter next to the milk fridge,” Emilia responds without thinking, smiling as Stephen laughs but she’s grabbing the Sharpie from her apron and writing her number on a nearby napkin because cliches are cliches for a reason, sometimes. Practicality and all.

Emilia’s handwriting is neat, it’s cute, and it’s perfect.

Stephen’s fingers brush her own as he takes it, and they both somehow know it’s intentional so they both share an inside joke smile before Emilia readies his drink by snapping the lid on, sending him on his way with a promise to call.

The rest of the shift is spent with Emilia attempting to ignore her phone and pretending to ignore the seemingly unrelenting temptation to just sneak into the back like she knows everyone does to check her phone.

When given the opportunity to check her messages Emilia tries her best to ignore the cold disappointment when there are no missed calls or messages from a new number. While Emilia doesn't think that Stephen is the type of person to ask someone out and then ignore them, she also knows that she doesn’t really know him aside from his drink order and his profession.

Stephen could very well have plenty of phone numbers to pick and choose from as he pleases.

This thought dims her mood so she chooses to let it go in favor of wiping the counter off. Again.

Emilia couldn’t possibly know that Stephen had been staring at the napkin every opportunity he had gotten; saving the numbers on his computer, phone, and even writing it down on a sticky note he stuck into his wallet before his next lecture just in case.

The same number he had already successfully memorized.

It’s during her walk home after work when Emilia is planning out her evening’s dinner when her phone begins to vibrate in her backpack, excitement bubbling in her chest as she sees it’s from an unknown number.

“Hello?” Emilia answers, hoping she didn’t speak too quickly.

“Hi. Is this Emilia?” The familiar voice which is just slightly changed by a phone call asks, “This is Stephen. Boundary crossing professor and customer,”

“Hi Stephen,” Emilia says with a grin she can’t stamp down painting her face as she presses the crosswalk button.

“I hope this is an alright time to call, I just couldn’t wait any longer so I’m calling between lectures,”

“Oh,” Oh. “No, no that’s fine,” Emilia feels she’s capable of doing a cartwheel at that moment.

“I ended my last lecture early with the promise of it being so they could prepare for the midterm but I knew that they wanted to get of out there as much as I did so I did us both a favor,”

Emilia imagines Stephen rushing students out of his lecture hall as quickly as possible in order to call her seconds sooner.

“I’m glad you called,” Emilia confesses, briefly missing someone distracted from crashing into her.

“I am too,” There’s a pause and Emilia listens intently, “I don’t know your personal schedule but I know you don’t work tomorrow but are you free tomorrow afternoon?”

Tomorrow!! Emilia thinks. Less than a day away.

“I’m free,” Emilia has work to do for school but she knows she’d find time during finals week for Stephen.

“Perfect. There’s this restaurant, it’s a brewery as well. It’s on Wheelbridge. I’d like to take you there,”

While Emilia knows the area, not the restaurant. It’s not too close to home, but it would be okay.

“Okay. That sounds nice. What time?”

“Let’s do 2? I don’t want to interrupt you sleeping in and relaxing. Is that okay? I thought we could have lunch and then somewhere else not too far away,”

“That sounds lovely,”

“Great. Perfect. I will let you go because I’m sure you have things to do and I won’t be the reason you are distracted,”

Stephen didn’t know he was Emilia’s favorite distraction.

“Tomorrow, then?” Stephen asks, “2?” suddenly sounding hesitant, nervous almost. It didn’t suit him as he sounded unsure as if he needed to make sure it was happening and set in stone.

“2pm I’ll be there,”

“Okay. See you then. Bye, Emilia,”

“Bye-bye” Emilia says before they both hang up and she wants to body slam herself through the Earth’s crust because who says “bye-bye” unironically?

Instead of dwelling, Emilia saves his phone number carefully and there is absolutely nothing that can ruin her mood.

Not the way that the leftovers she was planning on having were spoiled, or the way she had forgotten to revise an essay, or even when she couldn’t sleep out of sheer excitement.

#Stephen strange #Doctor strange #Stephen strange fic #Doctor strange pic #doctor strange au #Stephen strange au #marvel fiction #doctor strange fan fiction #Stephen Vincent strange #doctor strange x oc #doctor strange fluff #Benedict Cumberbatch #doctor strange fix rec #Stephen strange fic rec #marvel #marvel fanfic

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bradleyfuckingbradshaw · 2 years

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I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: Clint didn't bring her back.

Just a little something.

You spin around, ready to embrace Nat when you spot Clint standing in front of you.

"Where is she?" you ask with a fading smile. He hasn't even said anything yet, but you see it in his eyes.

"Clint, where's Nat?" you ask again, trying to see through the tears. He promised. He promised to bring her back.

"Clint?" Steve asks, taking a step forward to stand next to you.

"Answer the fucking question!" you demand. He has to say it, because you can't believe it. Saying goodbye to her had always been inevitable seeing as you were immortal, but you were supposed to have more time. All you had ever asked for was time. And now Clint is standing in front of you, witholding the words that'll make the tragedy real, and you hate him for it.

"She's gone." You're on top of him in a matter of seconds, and he does nothing to protect himself. He collapses with you on top of him, and you get a few good punches in before someone pulls you off.

"Let go of me!" you scream, desperately fighting against the arms around your waist. He's bleeding from a cut right below his eyebrow, and it gives you a satisfaction you'll never admit out loud.

"Calm down please." There's an urgency in Steve's voice that you blatantly ignore. He's hurt, you're hurt, Clint's hurt, and you couldn't care. You've run out of time with the love of your life, and you hate everyone for ever going along with this plan. You blame them because you need someone to blame. You need to direct this anger somewhere or it'll consume you entirely.

"Cap, let go of her." Clint says with a raspy voice, trying to hold back his own tears, and it makes you see red. For just a brief second Steve's grip on you loosens, and you use that second to get free. No one stops you this time when you rip into Clint. He doesn't want them to, and you're too blinded by grief to understand.

Later on, you realise that it was his apology to you. He loved Nat almost as much as you, but you don't see it in the moment. If Bucky hadn't finally stepped in when he did, you might've killed Clint. And you're not entirely sure, you would've felt sorry about it.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff blurb #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #angst #marvel endgame #marvel fiction #marvel blurb #marvel imagine #marvel #natasha romanov

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starsinmylean · 2 years

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Do You Love Me?

Pairing - Nomad!Steve x Fem!reader

Summary - PWP

Warnings - Oral (m), cursing, slightly rough

You were fixing dinner for yourself when Steve found himself in your apartment. He wasn’t supposed to be here, risking your life, and his. You turned around to rinse off your stirring spoon when you noticed him standing in your living room, his eyes piercing into yours.

A gasp fell from your lips as you dropped the spoon in the sink, darting across the room to close your blinds. “What’s wrong with you?” you exclaimed in a hushed voice, as if someone was listening to your conversations.

Steve had no explanation.

You huffed in frustration, shoving past him to turn down the heat on the stove. “I’ve been worried sick about you, did you know that? Or did you just stop giving a fuck? You can’t just keep doing this. Disappearing and popping up out of nowhere.” you spoke, deciding to just turn the heat all the way off. Your appetite had diminished.

He walked into the kitchen, pressing his body against the back of yours. You refused to speak anymore, you had nothing else to say. “Is that all?” his voice was your sanctuary. You’d been craving to hear his voice for weeks, and now you finally could; even if it wasn’t under the best circumstances.

You turned around to face him, hoping to create some distance between the two of you, but that only urged him to come closer. One of his hands came to caress your left cheek, his thumb gliding under your left eye; you sighed into his comforting touch, your eyes boring into his.

His hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers gripping the back of your neck. Your eyes never left his as he used his right thumb to trace your bottom lip, urging you to part your lips. You complied silently, enjoying the feeling. He pushed his middle fingers into your mouth, your heartbeat racing faster the farther he went.

The sound of you gagging on his fingers went straight to his cock, a shiver tingling down his spine. His hand that was gripping your neck moved up to the top of your head, pushing you down to the floor, his fingers never leaving your throat.

He quickly unbuckled his belt and suit pants, pulling them down to his upper thighs. “Open.” he instructed, and you followed, closing your eyes and opening your mouth as wide as you could. You felt shameful, but you didn’t care, you’d do this for hours.

His tip came in contact with your parted lips. You waited patiently as he used both hands to guide you down his shaft. You suctioned your cheeks around him, a hiss leaving his lips as you did.

You opened your hazy eyes, your thighs squeezing together as your hands found his thighs for balance. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his tip glided against the back of your throat, a moan leaving your lips and vibrating against his cock.

“Do you love me?” he asked, moving one of his hands to the top of your head and the other to the right side of your face so he could fuck into your throat harder, his knees bending a little, reaching a new angle. You gagged around him repeatedly, tears strolling down your cheeks from the act.

“Do you love me?” he repeated, gripping your hair and thrusting his hips as hard as he could, your knees beginning to burn from the friction against the hardwood floors. You attempted to nod, strangled moans leaving your lips.

He twitched in your mouth, a loud groan leaving his lips as he came. Goosebumps rising on his skin as you swallowed happily. Your nails dug into the sides of his thighs. He pulled you off of him, a loud gasp falling from your lips as your saliva and his cum dripped down your chin.

“I love you.” you whispered, looking up into his eyes with runny mascara and red cheeks. Your lips were pretty and swollen, just how he liked them. He said nothing as he bent down to kiss you, tasting himself as he swirled his tongue with yours.

Masterlist Main

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #captain america #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #captain america x reader #marvel smut #marvel fiction #chris evans #smut

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visionsofmagic · 2 years

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― being the God of Mischief’s favorite human

chapter 1

a/n: events happen in Asgard. i didn’t add a specific timeline but before thor’s first movie. [don’t forget that English is not my first language and i make mistakes sometimes, but i am trying my best. so, enjoy!]

also, i am publish my stories in ao3 too! [ @perseprose ]

character/pairing: Loki x f!reader

summary: Thor isn’t Loki’s favorite entertainment in Asgard, you are.

word count: 1.3k

warning!: fluff, a little horror scenes, mature scenes in following chapters, deaths (maybe), angst, violence, smut, +18 scenes

The Asgard is a home to you even if you were just a barely human. Asgard has beauty of the nature, variety of people who are from another worlds like you, and most importantly it has magic which you are fond of. You just loved magic and what comes within it. It makes your heart hit with excitedly. It was not a surprise that you would stalk Loki, son of Odin, in the first place. Even your little friend Elsa didn't surprise when she heard your curiosity about Loki. But she made her statement, she said, "Don't be a fool. He is the God of Mischief. You can't trick him. You can't just stalk him like that. He will find it eventually. Maybe he did already."

Yes, he did. You just realized this fact after a long time. The God of Mischief was already set his eyes on you. How could you be this stupid anyway? He was a God and the God of Mischief. He has a great knowledge that you can't imagine. He was not like Thor, the God of thunder. He was smart. He was tricky as well.

You learned all of this after your little secret of stalking a God realized by that certain God. Now, you have another secret; you are an entrainment human for a God, for Loki. He is fond of you like you did before. He was stalking you, watching you, making tricks on you and always find a free time to enjoy with you.

You let him to do whatever he want because you know that you enjoyed it, you enjoyed be an entertainment for Loki. Whenever you see him, your heart would feel like blowing to million pieces because of that unknown feeling. You can't name it. You are trying to provide naming it because it will cause everything to fall apart. Loving a God is the most stupid thing to happen a mere human.

You took a deep breath before entering the castle. You didn’t see Loki yet but the idea of seeing him all of sudden creates weird feeling in your stomach; you want to see him but you don’t want to see him either. The situation was weird and you swept away these feeling for now because you have a job to do; going and cleaning Thor’s room. You was a human yes, but you need money to live on in Asgard. Working for Gods of Asgard was the best option. So, after coming to Asgard a few years ago, you decided to go Freya’s special workers and getting into the castle. You got the job. Your job is really easy; cleaning Thor and Loki’s rooms, organizing certain place, preparing dinner for some soldiers of Asgard and sometimes taking care of the garden, the one you liked most. The hard part is dealing with the Loki.

He always play with you; creating tricks with his powers, making fun of you but not about your weaknesses or insecure strangely, trying to undermine your works especially when you clean Thor’s room, and other things that makes you both annoy and enjoy. He is a tricky God but you liked it. You like how he show a special interest in you, you like when he treats you differently from others, you like him even if you don’t accept it really.

You knocked Thor’s room twice. You had to be sure that the room was empty before entering but it was not empty; a middle-aged worker opened the door. She was sweating. You realized that she was cleaning Thor’s room. You are confused. The one who was cleaning Thor’s room should be you, not this woman. It was your week to clean. She said after seeing your confused expression, “I took your week because the other one didn’t let me clean his room and wanted you instead of me. He was so certain about this. He said he would not let anyone else but you. So, I thought it would be a stupid act to protest a God’s request. So, I came to here to clean and you will come to the other one’s room.” She smiled at you with slight shyness, “Please?”

You took a deep breath. You shook your head in a positive way, “Okay. I will go to his room, don’t worry.” You smiled. You have a soft heart to ones who say please and you didn’t reject this woman’s request. “Good luck with your room.”

―――

The mentioned God was laying down in his big bed. When you entered his room after knocking, his face lit up with a big grin. You rolled your eyes inside your head. Yes, you have a good relationship with Loki but you know that he is a God and he can do anything to you if he wants to. You need to be careful.

“Your highness.” You tilt your head slightly to him like a bow. You begin to cleaning his room without looking at him at all. However, his heavy gazes and grin keep following your every step, you feel it, you feel him in every part of your body. He isn’t touching you physically. He is touching you with his eyes. It didn't take long to feel your body shaking a little because of his eyes. You know that he see your little shakes too. You just know that because whenever you look at him with corner of your eyes, you see his non-lasting grin. You cursed under your breath. You are weak. You are weak for him. Both you and he know this.

“You look so focused on your job even if it is a little thing. You know that right?”

You shook your head in a positive way, not stopping cleaning his clothes. You heard the sound of his rising body from the bed to you. You heard his footsteps. With each step, you feel your heartbeats raising. He stopped right behind you. You continued to organizing his closet.

“I like it.” He said In a deep voice. He knew what he was doing to you.

You couldn’t help but asking, “What is it?”

He chuckled. You felt a joy inside your body. “Watching you while you are cleaning my room with this kind of focus.”

You turned your head to him, “I was going to clean your brother’s room but the woman said that you, my highness, refused this.”

Now, his grin was gone. He looked seriously to you. You shallowed. Did you say something wrong? He went to the open window, under the sun’s light. He was looking beautiful and handsome at the same time. “I don’t like it when you focus on other people, even my brother.”

You were confused. “Why?”

He turned to you, “Because I just don’t want it.” You kept that confused look on your face. You knew that this was not the reason, he was hiding something. Maybe he didn’t trust you to clean his brother’s room alone? But there were other women too. You wondered whether he behaves to others like this or not.

“Your highness, I didn’t understand your statement but I just need to clean this room and go. I have other jobs to do.”

He shrugged his shoulders like a little disobedient child. “I will let you alone while doing your job.” You took a relaxed breath. He smirked, lifting his forefinger to add more, “But I have one certain request.” You waited patiently. He continued, “You will go a certain place with me before continue cleaning.”

You said, “Of course your highness, wherever you want me to go.”

His smirk grow bigger which makes you think about your decision for the second time but he didn’t let you, “You will go that place,” He pointed to himself, “With me. Only me.”

You should know that. You said, ‘ahh‘, inside your head. “And where we will go?” You asked with curiosity.

He laughed, “Of course the place that you want to go most!” You lifted your elbows, “And there is?”

He took your hands in his. Without having time to feel anything he said, “The Midgard!”

‘Oh, crap!’ you thought, ‘This will be a disaster!’

love, rose. ♡

#loki #loki layfeson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki odison x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki imagines #marvel #mcu #marvel fiction #marvel fanfiction #thor #written by me #ao3 author #loki smut #loki fluff #loki x female reader #vom

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let-them-fight · 4 months

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can we stop doing this trope

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annabelle--cane · 1 month

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I am aware I have died on this hill before but people who really strenuously argue that fanfic isn't "real writing" drive me insane. what do you meeeaaaaannn. besides the fact that any attempt to define "real art" vs "fake art" is inherently reactionary, it just doesn't make any sense. it's Writing. people Write it. what the fuck are you talking about.

#like. my fifth grade vampire novella was 100% original fiction. objectively it was awful on every axis. it was still writing. what.#marina marvels at life

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buckyalpine · 4 months

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Imagine you get into the holiday spirt with the cutest Christmas sweater, the fluffiest socks and these adorable bells in your hair. You're running around the compound with hot chocolate and cookies, the jingle of your bells ringing with each step. Everyone things its adorable. You're like a little elf, busy in your workshop (the kitchen), surrounded by marshmallows, whipped cream, delivering mugs of creamy sweetness along with homemade gingerbread men.

Everyone finds it so cute.

Everyone except Bucky.

Bucky hates it.

He hates the little tinkle he hears with each footstep you take.

Why?

Because his mind is in the gutter.

Your running around looking all cute and sweet and innocent and all he can think about is how gorgeous those bells would sound as he railed you with his cock.

He decided to stay in his room, hoping a book would calm him down but who was he kidding, his enhanced hearing meant he could hear you scurry around down the hall towards his room, and holy shit, if he could just grab your hair and bend you over-

"Bucky!" You lightly knocked at his door before popping your head in with a cheery smile, holding a mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and plenty of whipped cream. No matter how intimidating Bucky painted himself out to be, you knew the soldier loved all the little extra toppings, especially after you caught him adding extra whipped cream when no one was looking.

"Hey" Bucky's voice came out more strained than intended, hoping to will his erection away which currently throbbed with need.

"I brought you hot chocolate" You stepped into his room, pausing when Bucky's smiled looked more like a grimace as he shifted from his place sitting against the headboard.

"Is-is everything okay?" You ask, padding towards him and he can't even hide the tent in his sweats, setting down the book he was reading to try and cover himself.

"Of course-yeah-thanks y/n" He rasped out as you came over and handed him the mug, your sweet scent of vanilla, sugar and spices only making it harder for him to keep his hands to himself.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You could tell Bucky was tensed, chewing his lip without meeting your eyes which was strange considering he was normally fine around you.

"Wouldn't be able to tell you sweets" Bucky chuckled to himself with a sigh rubbing the back of his neck while you cocked your head to the side, the tiny movement making the bells ring again.

Fuck.

"I don't think you'd want to help with something like this doll"

"Try me"

"OH" *jingle* "MY" *jingle* "GOD" You wailed, your bells ringing with each thrust as Bucky's cock slammed into you, his hands squeezing your hips as he fucked you from behind. He had you on your hands and knees after tearing your clothes of, loving the needy little whimper you let out after you caught a glimpse of his rock hard cock pressing against his sweats.

"That's it baby, that's it, sound so pretty with those cute little bells in your hair" Bucky groaned, biting his lip to keep his voice down as he fucked you harder, pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, "Look at how you're taking all of me baby, taking my big dick so well, such a good. Girl"

"More, want-more" you hiccupped, tears from pleasure streaking down your face, squealing when Bucky's hand spanked your ass before pulling out and manhandling you till you were on top. You whined, your lips pulled into a pout, all naked on top of the soldier except for the bells in your hair, your needy pussy clamping down on him. You pawed at his hand, tugging it to where you needed him most, moaning when he used his thumb to rub your clit, smirking at your fucked out state.

"Aww babygirl, are you too cockdrunk to fuck yourself on my dick" Bucky cooed as you squirmed on top of him, sloppily grinding yourself, your greedy cunt begging for anything he'd give you. You

"Fuck you're such a little slut" Bucky gritted out as he planted his feet against the mattress and started to fuck up into you, your boobs bouncing in his face matching the dainty rings every time he thrusted his hips up. "Want you under that goddamn tree and nothing else baby, gonna fuck you on every surface of his place"

Bucky could only take so much, his balls pulling tight to his body, cum desperate to blow and paint your walls, your pleasure contorted face all just for him.

"Walking around with these fuckin' bells, making my cock so hard, lookit how pretty you sound now baby, fuck y/n, m'gonna cum!"

"C-cum in me Bucky" You cried out, sobbing in pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you, collapsing against his chest as he fucked you through your high.

"That's it baby, milk my cock, that's what I want for Christmas, wanna empty my balls in you, fuck-oh fuck-milk it baby, shitt!" Bucky bit down on your shoulder to muffle his loud moans, shoving his dick in as far as it would go as he started to throb ropes of his spend into you.

That was round 1.

"You look like you've seen a ghost" Tony snorted as he saw Sam and Steve enter the living room, the captain's face pale in shock while Sam couldn't stop grinning. "What happened. We're gonna start the movie soon, where's metal man and y/n"

Steve went beet red while Sam cackled, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Making their own rendition of Jingle Bells"

Anyway, I'm sorry for giving you debauched instead of wholesome plots, MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMALS (the filthy part is for me @ myself)

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langernameohnebedeutung · 1 year

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ngl, I'm beginning to take issue with how in conversations about anti-intellectualism almost automatically, the face of girls and women will be slapped on the problem.

#'all those tiktok girls who only like marvel films and' - why do you always say girls and women? are the guys filling opera halls instead?#'women in their mid 20s who still only read YA novels' okay sure that's an example and relevant discussions can be had #but it reminds me of the mocking tone in which people speak of 'chick-lit' to use women's interest as an indicator of lower value #while in fact women are reading more than men in EVERY single genre of fiction. Women are doing a lot of (often unpaid) labour #supporting libaries supporting theatres supporting cultural events #meanwhile there is a pretty big overlap between toxic masculinity and anti-intellectualism #(especially misogyny and homophobia)#especially when it comes to things like ballet or opera or musical or generally dance #in fact it is often the female investment in specific things that makes them less 'valuable' in general consciousness #for thousands of years the theatre was well-respected and a high form of art - and now it's a 'wife-thing'#the father who will teach his son that theatre and dance are for girls - how is that never an example for anti-intellectualism

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queen-of-the-avengers · 6 months

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Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel fluff #mcu fanfiction #marvel fiction

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melanthaeunomia · 1 month

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Do y’all ever reread an old unpublished fanfic you wrote and then get invested on the storyline but get sad because you never wrote the next part of it, just me?

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

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Marvel One Shots - Canon Adjacent - Sam Wilson x Reader

Key: 🥰 Fluff 😭Angst 🍆Smut 🍑WLW smut 🌑Dark 🩸Violence 🌶 Suggestive

Work🍆

A Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader one shot for Kinktober 21

Let's (never) speak of this again 🥰🍆

Sam Wilson x Agent reader - part of my 1k follower celebration

#Master list #Sam Wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x you #marvel fiction

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rainydaycafe · 11 months

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A Shaken Espresso, Please - Ch. 2

Pairing: Professor! Stephen Strange au x OC fem! graduate school student (and barista)!

Summary: Professor Strange has a reputation that proceeds him and a finicky taste for off-campus coffee. Enter a graduate school attending barista. This is their story.

Warnings: age difference (older Stephen), and an inhumane amount of fluff with tumultuous thoughts

A/N: feel more than free to send me prompts for this story regarding what you'd like to see, what you think would fit, and any thought u have up in that sexy mind of yours!

Chapter 1

Time seemed to bend in differently for both Stephen and Emilia.

Their perception of time differed as the morning of their lunch date time seemed to extend itself to an excruciating length even when Stephen did his best to distract himself with work and emails. Time seemed to pass by as quick as a gust of wind when Emilia woke up that morning feeling jitters, unable to formulate an outfit that was good enough.

However they perceived it, time still passed and as was her habit- Emilia was early to the restaurant.

It turns out Stephen is even earlier than her, waiting outside on a nearby wall looking as handsome as ever. It’s the first time Emilia’s ever seen him wearing black jeans which he’s paired with a dark blue cardigan overtop a casual gray button up.

Looking so well put together with his straight posture and confident aura, it’s unimaginable to think of this man having been the one in his apartment checking and rechecking everything about his appearance multiple times before finally leaving his place.

Only to check himself in every available window and mirror, but that’s besides the point because he knows he looks good.

Emilia glances down at her own outfit which took her longer than she’d admit to pick. The entire idea of picking this outfit almost sent her into a fit of inescapable nerves.

It took her a lifetime to pick a pair of dark blue jeans that clung to her thighs and ended at just the beginning of her shoes, and the beige cardigan with orange flowers with a cream tank top.

The jeans may make her ass look fantastic, but that’s not the reason she chose them. Really. That would be presumptuous of her.

While Emilia doesn't have the financial freedom Stephen has to spend on clothes, she knows she did well choosing her outfit when Stephen catches sight of her and bites back a smile by biting his lower lip.

“Emilia,” Stephen says, pushing away from the wall and walking towards her.

Emilia doesn’t know whether they’re supposed to hug, wave, or shake hands but Stephen makes the decision for her as he leans in quickly and presses a kiss on her cheek. The breath she had catches in her throat and she flushes a bit, looking just about anywhere other than the man before her.

“Hi. You look really nice,” Which isn’t an empty compliment because Stephen does look nice.

“Thank you. This is my favorite cardigan,” Stephen says as they begin walking towards the door, Emilia pulling open the door for them, “You look beautiful. Those pants are-” Stephen swallows and Emilia watches in genuine surprise as he flushes a bit, “They look nice on you,”

“Thanks,” Emilia says as she wrings her hands together because he noticed!

“I already got us a table so I hope it’s okay we eat upstairs on the roof?”

Emilia spends plenty of time indoors. Work, school, home, etc. So she’s plenty happy to be outside. It’s a lovely day to spend outside since it’s just warm enough to avoid being too cold, but it isn’t hot. The breeze is cooling but not strong enough to blow away their napkins which is nice to have when Emilia feels she needs to cool down when Stephen looks at her.

In all honesty, Emilia can’t remember the last time she went on a date. The previous dates having been a daunting experience with men that really weren’t her cup of tea but they managed to get her to agree when she was fumbling with how to say “no”.

This, however?

This is easy.

It’s easy to simply sit across from Stephen on a sunny afternoon on the roof of his lovely restaurant. Their knees aren’t knocking, but every so often their feet bump into one another and every time Emilia feels her breath stutter. But either way she leans her chin on the heel of her hand and gazes at Stephen, making him feel as though everything he says will stick to Emilia and will never be forgotten.

Stephen makes it easy with his gift for conversation and his infectious smile. Emilia is very content to just listen as Stephen speaks about his job, where he went to school, what he studied. Everything is nonchalant- all that he’s done and all he still wants to do. There is pride as he speaks, but there isn’t any of the usual arrogance Emilia knows he carries at times. Stephen talks about himself as though he’s just any other person but Emilia thinks Stephen might be the most interesting person she’s ever encountered.

And Stephen draws out bits and pieces of Emilia’s own private story, unhappy with the way Emilia shrugs away her own life as though there’s nothing to actually speak of. The wide eyed wonder Stephen shows when Emilia speaks of her life, her education, and herself is enough to keep her speaking as she fidgets every so often when the attention makes her shy. Emilia continues to speak even when she knows she’s told Stephen more than she’s ever told anyone.

They’re both quite certain that they could speak to one another well past lunch, into dinner, and well into the late hours of night and into the early hours of the morning. For as long as the other might want to stay without even an inkling of boredom between them.

There is a quiet hope simmering there that hopefully the other will also want that.

A bit of doubt is bouncing around the back of her head and she can’t completely relax unless she’s clarified it.

“Is it- is it okay for us to be here together?” Emilia asks, nervously folding and refolding her napkin, Stephen pausing mid chew in confusion, “I mean since you’re a professor and I am a student,”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I looked through the faculty handbook the day you came into my office,” Stephen answers as though he’s telling her his favorite color with genuine ease.

It might not mean much to him, but it caused Emilia to pause to take what he had said.

Had he been interested in getting to know her and have her sit across from him from the moment she stepped foot in his office?

Stephen noted the surprise but he just smiled in the way that was now becoming familiar to Emilia, and she couldn’t help but just smile back.

“What are you teaching this semester? How are you liking them?” Emilia asked and Stephen contemplated.

“I’m teaching Navigational and Spatial Orientation, Ethical Conduct of Research, Neuroscience of Mental Illnesses, Sleep and Sleep Disorders, Neurobiology of Social Intelligence, and Neurobiology of Learning and Memory,”

The impressed expression on Emilia’s face was enough to have Stephen feeling superior and like he was an impressive individual since the courses he taught were a glimpse into his vast intelligence

“I mostly enjoy them but there are pros and cons to any profession,” Stephen added..

“What are the pros and cons of yours?”

“It’s just a bit difficult in a frustrating sense when we have to backtrack multiple times to a topic or a particular section because some students are have a harder time understanding,” Stephen explained, catching Emilia off guard, “I never had a problem understanding things in school so I don’t have a lot of patience for the redundancy of the slow students. Especially the Learning and Memory since it’s more of an introductory course we get a lot of students who aren’t sure of what they’re really in for with neuro, much less achieving a level of education like my own. They follow my courses since I’m obviously the head of the department I am the best,”

Emilia had been the student who needed the extra help when it came to her science and math classes since it just didn’t click for her right away, often leaving her confused and with a headache.

Read a book in a day? Easy. Memorize a few dates for history class? Fine. But when it comes to the world of math and science Emilia always felt out of her depth and it had always been due to feeling stupid when she did reach out for help with teachers and professors who shared the slightest bit of Stephen’s attitude.

If Stephen thought his own students were “slow” students who had made it into the highly competitive science department were “slow” she didn’t want to imagine what he thought of her.

Stephen’s arrogance had always been something women enjoyed, finding it impressive how confident he was in his skills; but it seemed to be having the opposite effect on Emilia as she seemed to be shutting down right in front of her.

That arrogance had been a part of his personality for as long as he’s known he’s gifted and it’s what people notice immediately after meeting him.

“I’m sorry if I came off as a pretentious asshole” Stephen said suddenly over the silence that had stretched out due to what he knew was his fault, “I’m not some huge asshole who just goes around belittling students. I am good at what I do but I don’t want you to think that’s all I am. I just- I just wanted to impress you but it seems to be having the opposite effect on you,”

Emilia visibly relaxed and she listened to him ramble until he came to his own natural end.

“Stephen, I’m not here with you because you’re head of the science department or because you have all of this professional success,” Emilia confessed, “I’m here to be with the Stephen that goes into the coffee shop and is pleasant to be around and converse with,”

“I really sounded like an asshole, didn’t?” Stephen asked with a self deprecating chuckle.

“Not… not really. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be confident and proud of yourself but like I said; I like you for who you are when you’re relaxed and are yourself, I don’t need you to prove to me you’re intelligent,” Emilia explained because anyone who came across Stephen could understand that he was an intelligent person.

When around Emilia, Stephen realizes he hasn’t been the belittling asshole with a superiority complex at all since all he wanted was to know her, to have her, and his genuine self has been more than enough to win her over.

Arrogance is just a mask for the feeling of having to prove yourself

That was something Stephen had heard time and time again after his haughtiness had gotten under the skin of someone, and perhaps on some level they were right but apparently he hadn’t felt the need to prove anything with Emilia up until he became all too self aware and self conscious almost.

There was safety between them; it seemed Stephen could be his most genuine self. There was nothing to prove to her since he was enough, he didn’t need additional padding.

However Stephen did choose to push the thought of confessing exactly why he had become a professor when he was very much qualified for more demanding professions.

It was still a subject that was sore enough to have him avoid it, especially when Emilia was looking at him with genuine affection within her gaze and he just couldn’t deal with it switching over to pity and sympathy because of what could have been.

The only other slight hiccup is when the check comes and Emilia attempts to pay but Stephen quickly pulls the bill out of her reach.

“I asked you so I will pay. If you’re so eager to pay, you can ask me out next time,” Stephen says with a smile, nudging at her ankle with his foot.

Next time. Emilia thinks, and the helpless wonder and hope bubbles inside of her all that much more, hoping Stephen feels the same anticipation when it comes to the phrase “next time”.

________________

It turns out that the second location Stephen wanted them to go to was a farmer’s market a few streets down which was held every Saturday afternoon from 2:00pm-7:30pm.

Emilia figures out where they’re going about two blocks into their walk as she sees people walking around with tote bags full of fresh produce, baked goods, and whatever else they sell at the farmers market but she keeps quiet.

They’re busy chatting or, well, lightly debating about whether classical music is superior to jazz music but there’s not an ounce of heat behind either of their words.

Walking side by side, their hands brush every so often and Emilia wonders what it would be like to hold hands with Stephen. To have his larger hands encase her own, or to thread her own fingers through his but she doesn’t dwell on it too long because she doesn’t have the courage to reach out and grab his hand.

The curiosity surrounding holding hands isn’t one Emilia lives with for too long as they arrive at the impressive farmer’s market and Stephen asks where she’d like to start.

Stephen asks where she’d like to start, but Emilia tells him she doesn’t really mind so he directs them towards the hand made soap when he suddenly takes hold of her hand as though it were the most casual and normal thing.

There’s a jolt that goes through Emilia, and she’s tempted to look at their interlaced fingers but she doesn’t and instead relishes the warmth Stephen’s hands provides.

Perhaps there’s a part of her that is afraid of acknowledging it because Stephen will also acknowledge it and pull away, noticing that it’s meaning a bit too much to Emilia for his liking.

A glance is stolen when Stephen is busy debating the kind of honey he most wants, but Emilia quickly looks away from their hands and confesses to him she’s of no help because she doesn’t care for honey.

Their walk around the farmer’s market continues and Emilia finds herself comfortable and content, hoping there’s another day like this awaiting her, just without all of the first date nerves that consumed her beforehand.

Letting their gazes linger towards stalls that might interest one another, Emilia locks eyes with an ice cream vendor dishing out delicious looking ice cream.

“Ice cream,” Emilia says not without childlike wonder that makes Stephen smile, directing both of them there where he smiles wider as Emilia genuinely debates the flavors. It seems to be a serious contemplation as she weighs her options, going through a pros and cons list in a matter of seconds.

“What are you going to get?” Emilia asks when they’re finally in line after Emilia has made a decision on her flavor choices.

“Brownie chunk and pistachio. What did you settle on?”

“I’ve settled on butter pecan and vanilla caramel crunch,”

They both order, Stephen opting for a cone as Emilia goes for her ice cream to be in a cup, Emilia beating him to pay as she had her card ready to go the moment they got in line because she couldn’t let him pay for everything.

Stephen had been distracted looking at her side profile, but he admits defeat as they wait off to the side, not waiting too long before their order number is called.

“There’s a bench over there,” Stephen gestures, “It’s a bit further away so we can have a bit of privacy,”

Emilia nods and before long they’re sitting, chatting away about anything that’s under the sun which is a relief to Emilia who had been plagued with the fear of Stephen finding her boring.

The natural curiosity between them doesn’t cease, both of them wanting to know more and more about the other without feeling as though they’ve hit the mark for casual first date knowledge.

“This place is here every Saturday,” Stephen explains proudly, “I know it’s a bit busy and touristy but it has some really nice things as well- what? What’s that look on your face?”

“I live nearby, Stephen,” Emilia says, attempting not to laugh at the affronted expression that crosses Stephen’s face, “I live about 2 blocks away and I come here on the Saturdays I want to get out of my place for a bit,”

“Fuck,” Stephen swears, “This is so boring for you, isn’t it? I just can’t seem to pull anything off with you, can I?”

“It’s not boring,” Emilia says sincerely, glancing towards the people shopping away, “I’m not bored because I’m getting to know you,”

The smile that Stephen gives him is so genuine and delicate that Emilia swears something rearranges inside of her in that moment.

“You’re so sweet,” Stephen says, and suddenly when Emilia looks towards him from where she was looking at some kids playing with sticks Stephen is leaning in and kissing her firmly.

It’s warm and sweet, and so intimate it makes Emilia feel like she’s off kilter somehow even though she’s sitting down on a bench at the farmer’s market she frequented as often as she’s wanted to.

Emilia’s been kissed before, sure, but not like this.

Not like she’s something precious and wonderful, like she’s something meant to be cherished. She can feel the intimacy and the sincerity, the way Stephen isn’t trying to impress her in that moment.

It’s the ice cream he tastes like, the softness of his lips, and the hand he has pressed to the back of her neck.

“Are you guys kissing?” A voice asks a bit too close for comfort and Stephen feels Emilia pull away quickly as though she’s been burned, leaving him mentally cursing everything worth cursing in the universe.

Turning, he sees one of the little monsters- kids- who had been playing a ways away standing in front of them waiting for an answer.

“Why don’t you go back to playing with sticks before I give you a lobotomy?” Stephen asks in a fakely sweet voice, the child unsure of what to make of the comment turns and goes back to her friends.

Emilia, embarrassed at being caught and interrupted is blushing bright red covering her face with her hands but Stephen is quick to peel them away, bringing her close to his side with his arm over her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you threatened to give her a lobotomy,” Emilia chastised.

“Well you were busy hiding your face so I had to get her to go away,” Stephen defended.

Indignant, Emilia turns to look at Stephen who looks at her expectantly but instead of giving in she turns back around, still unsure of what’s okay and what isn’t.

Stephen answers her by cupping her face with both hands and pulling her into him, pressing his lips to hers again, stemming that warm feeling that builds up in her chest and seems to expand to anywhere Stephen is touching.

________________

A/N: Hope you enjoyed and I hope you want to read more from me

Taglist for people who asked for a second part (ily):

@diabaroxa @vi0letdaze

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