#librarian au

[uglypastels]

i have to say this, eddie love fucking you when you’re in a messy bun and your glasses almost falling down your nose. Chef’s kiss

Chef's kiss indeed and i hope this is ok, but this gave me major librarian!reader vibes, and I meant to make this pure filth, but as I started writing, I realised that I adore these two wholeheartedly, so please enjoy the fluff fest around it.

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. p in v sex. sex in a public place. unprotected sex (dzon't dzo it). swearing.

masterlist // inbox //

Working in the Hawkins Town Library, you got to be in the presence of almost everybody who lived there, from the youngest readers to the eldest. Everyone needed books for one reason or another, let it be homework research, recipes or just some entertainment. There were the quiet readers who settled themselves somewhere in a corner to spend the rest of the day with their noses in between the pages; the ones who search for hours for the one book they had their mind set on the moment they walked in; the ones that, for whatever reason, forget to stay silent. There were fans of fantasy as well as historical non-fiction, philosophy and romance. There was a place for everybody here. 

With such a variety in patrons, it was only natural you grew to have favourites. Some might be more self-explanatory than others. Of course, your heart doubled when Julie came in with her daughter, Sandy [who just turned six!], to pick out a new book every few weeks. Or old man Farrell who already knew all the facts in the books he checked out and was more than happy to share with you.

It could come to most people as a shock then that the person you looked forward to seeing the most was none other than Eddie Munson.

Surprisingly, he could be the definition of the perfect library patron. Besides the fact that he had never been late with book returns, when you started working there, the first few times Eddie came by, he scared you to death—so quiet was he, sneaking around the aisles and up to the counter to check his stacks of books out.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya there, sweetheart,’ he said as he put the books on the desk. 

‘It’s alright.’ You started picking up books from the pile, stamping in the date on the inside sheet. ‘Might have to consider getting a bell.’ You smiled, ‘that way I could hear you coming.’ 

‘Hmm, too bad I don’t have a bell.’ Eddie clicked his tongue but reached into one of his pockets, ‘but… would these do?’ He pulled out a handful of thin metal chains. They rattle around. 

‘Why do you have those in your pocket?’ You asked curiously as you gave him back the books. 

‘Always have them on me– I mean, on my jeans, but I take them off when I’m hear. Don’t want to disturb anyone.’ And with that, he gave you a shy little smile that made your heart melt. 

‘That is, actually, really sweet of you.’ If only more people were so considerate. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Yeah, well, I have my moments.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘See ya.’ You waved as he walked away, barely able to contain the smile on your face that the metalhead had caused. 

Not a lot changed since that day, but your and Eddie’s conversations did begin to grow. You’d keep on talking while you checked out his books, sometimes for so long that another patron would have to interrupt to get their books. Then, Eddie would pop by your desk to ask for the location of some particular book— one you had never heard of, in all honesty, but he probably easily could have found it if he bothered to look through the cards. 

‘Excuse me, sweetheart,’ he’d clear his throat, ‘do you have any idea where I could find Carrots Love Tomatoes?’ 

‘Sorry?’ You must have misheard the title.

‘Carrots Love Tomatoes: Secrets of Companion Planting for Successful Gardening. It’s for my uncle.’ Eddie would clarify, reading the title out from a scrap of paper he had scribbled on. 

‘Right. Do you know who it’s by, perchance?’ 

‘I’m surprised you don’t.’ He reread the paper. ‘Louise Riotte– shit, I’m definitely mispronouncing that.’ He quickly spelt it out for you.

Well, you had to admit, you weren’t personally familiar with Miss Riotte’s work, but you knew this library inside-out and told Eddie to follow you into the section you thought it most likely to be. The non-fiction section was off in the corner of the library, with only rectangular windows blocks near the ceiling, letting in barely any daylight. The light was, instead, coming from the lamps above you; they flickered and buzzed on the off-moments. 

Eddie stayed a step behind you as you navigated through the shelves, muttering the alphabet to yourself repeatedly as you tried to find the RI– shelf. Once you finally found it, you realised it was on the top of the bookcase, where you couldn’t reach it. 

‘It’s up there.’ You pointed, thinking that maybe Eddie would just get it himself now. But instead, Eddie offered to pick you up. A bit flustered, you accepted the offer and tried to ignore the feeling of his hands on your hips, the way his rings dug into your soft skin. He picked you up, and you grabbed the book quickly. Once back down on the ground again, you handed it over to him. Eddie thanked you with a large smile as he looked at the book. 

He frowned. 

‘Something wrong?’ You asked. 

‘No, no, it’s all good, thanks. It’s just that…I don’t know…’ He looked at the book a bit longer. ‘Oh, you know what? I think I must have read it wrong.’ He looked down at the scrap of paper again. ‘...yeah. That definitely says Catcher in the Rye. Well, thank you anyway, sweetheart. Really ‘preciate it.’ 

‘You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.’ You laughed. 

‘Uhm, I’ll have you know,’ he leaned against the bookcase by your side, ‘that this had actually all been an act of sheer brilliance.’ 

‘Oh?’ You were leaning against it, too, your shoulders almost touching. 

‘Yes. I would say that the way I got you here with me, away from all those people, is MacGyver-level brilliance.’ 

‘Don’t you think it might have been easier to just… I don’t know, just ask me to meet you here.’ You would have been going on a break soon anyway.

Eddie grinned as he leaned forward to you, ‘Now, what would be the fun in that?’ You could feel his breath on you. The scent of excessive bubblegum chewing greeted you. 

‘Fair enough,’ you tried to act cool, ignoring the hot flashes he was causing all over your body. ‘So, why did you want me to come out here? What couldn’t wait until my lunch break, Munson?’ 

‘Just wanted to say how cute you looked today.’ Eddie smiled, then, as if he remembered something– ‘Oh, and this–’ he leaned in, cupping your face in his hand, kissing you softly. 

So, perhaps, some things had changed over time. Smalltalk and jokes at the front desk turned into stolen kisses and hushed laughter in the dark corners of the library. Just as with everything around, Eddie was gentle and soft. His grip on you was there for support, to make you feel how much he wanted you near him. 

You pulled away with a small gasp, chest-beating fast, eyes fluttering open.

‘But I suppose I could have waited with that.’ Eddie said afterwards, his hand still on your cheek. 

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ Your voice was hushed, but you kissed Eddie deeply instead of breathing in the air you needed. You pulled at his shirt to bring him closer, and his other hand reached for your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

‘You should probably get back,’ he muttered between kisses. 

‘Probably,’ you replied. Neither of you meant any of it, and you both knew it. You had no idea why you only saw each other at the library. Maybe because you always knew to find each other here; it was a certainty. Outside, it would be a mere coincidence to bump into Eddie. Here, you knew he would be here every week.

Maybe because it felt like a haven for both of you and it felt like a different reality—an escape from the real world. But it was precisely this that made everything else so fragile. Who knew what it would be like outside of these bookshelves? You didn’t want to know, so why risk it? What you had now, it was an unspoken agreement. One you both were more than happy with. It was special—a rarity. 

Everything- the kiss, the hold, the emotions, the heat- all intensified the longer you kept going. It was getting messy and rough. Eddie had locked you in between him and the bookcase. You could feel him all over you. His hair tickling your face, his cold rings on your skin, his clothes pressing into you, his— fuck, he was huge. You could feel him against your thigh, no hiding it. 

‘Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this the whole week.’ He breathed against your neck. ‘Haven’t stopped thinking about you.’ You would have told him the same if you could form an entire sentence. It was hard to concentrate daily when you had the memory of his touch plague you every day, and everything around you at your job was a heavy reminder.

‘Need… I need you, Eddie,’ you gasped out as he kissed your neck, right on the spot that made your knees go weak. ‘Please.’ 

‘Hmm, need you too, sweetheart.’ He was roaming his hand over your bare thigh underneath your skirt. Sometimes you wondered if anyone around had noticed that you really only wore them on days of Eddie’s library visits. Perhaps Eddie hadn’t picked up on that specifically, but he certainly enjoyed your style. ‘Drive my fucking wild in these short skirts of yours.’ The words rolled out of his mouth as he began unzipping his jeans. ‘Look so fucking good.’ 

‘Thank you,’ you moaned, giggling about how giddy you felt that he was complimenting you while preparing to thrust his dick in you. It was all so silly, so stupid. You were doing something incredibly risky, most likely illegal, but you couldn’t care one bit. All you could think about was how good he made you feel. How happy you felt with him. 

‘C’mere,’ Eddie groaned, pulling you up by your thighs, holding you against the shelves. Luckily, they were pretty sturdy, bolted to the ground, so his force pushing you against them barely mattered. On you, however, it was another story. 

‘Oh, fuck,’ you whimpered, trying to stay quiet at the feeling of him inside you. After letting you adjust quickly, he started thrusting in you hard and deep. The way he was moving against you, it made your whole body shake. You could feel your glasses slip down your nose. In the haze of it all, you had forgotten to take them off but were about to do so– when Eddie interrupted. 

‘No, keep them on.’ He kissed your cheek.

‘Why?’ you didn’t see a reason for them. 

‘Want you to see me fucking you.’ His smile was airy. ‘Besides, it’s hot as shit. The way you get so messy for me. And your hair,’ he punctuated each sentence with a deep thrust. One of his hands brushed some of your hair out of your face, ‘I wish I could take a picture of you right now. Would cum to it like every day.’ 

‘Gross.’ You joked, and in return, Eddie grazed his teeth over your collarbone, nipping at your skin slightly. 

‘Calling me gross as if you’re not getting fucked in the middle of the library.’ Eddie’s smile was contagious. As he continued, your glasses were falling again, but he quickly pushed them back over the bridge of your nose. ‘You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.’ 

‘I’m–’ you gasped as he went deeper. 

‘Yeah, baby?’ 

‘I’m– I’m close, Eddie.’ You tried to whisper as best as you could, biting down on any noises that could be heard from afar.

‘Mmm, I know, you’re so tight. So perfect.’ he moaned through his last hard thrusts. You could feel your climax coming, knew how it would come, and quickly hid your face in the nape of his neck to muffle your scream of pleasure as it washed over you. Eddie rode it out with you, only moments behind. 

He held you briefly, letting you come down and stabilise your breathing. You smiled at eachother sheepishly and kissed deeply once more. There was nothing else to say.

Eddie pulled out, the emptiness hitting you immensely. It was a strange sensation, and you still didn’t feel quite yourself as your feet touched the ground again. But Eddie’s hands stayed on you for stability. 

‘You’re a dream, sweetheart. Just… unbelievable.’

Eddie brushed the loose strands of hair from your face again while you readjusted your glasses. There was nothing else to say.

Now came the awkward part where you timed your exit from the aisle and hid the guilty sex-glow look on your face. 

It was a slow day at the library, so no one awaited you at the front desk. You took your place and tried to shake off all your emotions, and it worked for the most part, except for the giant smile. That you just could not get rid of. 

It was still there when Eddie returned to you twenty minutes later, now accompanied by a new stack of books. 

‘Found everything you were looking for?’ You asked as you took the books from him. 

‘That and more.’ He leaned his elbows on the wood, grinning like an idiot. You had to tell yourself not to look at him, or you would get lost in those big brown eyes. 

‘I’m happy to hear that.’ You stamped the date into all the books and returned them to Eddie. ‘Here you go.’ 

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Eddie grabbed them under his arm. ‘Same time next week?’ He winked. Once, the words really were only meant for this little exchange. That had been all you were looking forward to—the small chat at the desk. Back then, you would have never imagined the things you would get up to with the metalhead in the barely visited sections of the library. 

‘See you, Eddie.’ You shook your head, still smiling, of course. And that was that. There was nothing else to say. 

At least, there wasn’t before. All those other times, that really would have been it. Eddie would have walked away, and you would have watched him do so while already awaiting his comeback. Yet this time…

This time, Eddie stayed in his place. 

‘Can I… help you with anything else?’ You raised a brow. 

‘Uhh–’ Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Yes, you could. See if I have these… these two tickets for this thing— a concert… and see, I have no idea what to do with this second one, so maybe you could help me with that.’ He spoke fast and like he was stumbling over an uneven pavement instead of words, but you followed it nonetheless.

‘Concert?’ You asked. 

‘Yes.’ He expanded with the name of a band you had never heard of before. ‘This weekend.’

You thought for a moment, or at least pretended to, as you already knew your answer. ‘I might have a friend who would be interested in taking that ticket off you.’ 

‘Any chance this friend of yours wears cute glasses, short skirts and works at my favourite spot in the city?’ 

‘She just might.’ You bit the inside of your cheek. 

‘Then it’s deal, sweetheart,’ Eddie slammed his hand on the table in excitement, then immediately cringed at the noise he made. That same noise seemed to have awakened a quick realisation in him: ‘Wait, we were talking about you, right?’

‘Yes, Eddie. I would love to go to the concert with you.’ You rolled your eyes at the needed clarification.

‘Cool, just checking. Great.’ he started walking away now. ‘Great. I’ll pick you up– wait; I don’t even know where you live.’ 

‘You can pick me up here.’

‘Do you live at the library?’ he asked quickly, and you were sure he was being serious.

‘No, Eddie, I do not, but I work weekends too. But you can bring me back to my place afterwards. Stay the night, maybe?’ Was that too much too quickly? You started to panic for a second, thinking you took it too far, but then Eddie replied, repeating his previous words.

‘It’s a deal, sweetheart.’

the end

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#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n. #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson request #smut #fluff #librarian au #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #blurb #request

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 44

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: took a while.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Ann covers your mouth with hers, her tongue delving inside as you garble. You lay, still as marble as her hand slides down your pelvis. She curls her fingers and rolls along your clit, playing with you as you squeak.  

She rocks her hand as your body reacts. You don't want it too. You want it to stop. Her, too. 

She grabs the back of your head, her other hand firmly between your legs as she forces it further between your thighs. She pokes a finger inside you as you whimper and flatten yourself against the mattress. He lifts herself, staying attached to you as she straddles you below. 

She leans on her hand, tilting as if it's connected to her pelvis, fucking you as she pushes in a second finger. You squeeze your eyes shut, struggling to breathe as she traps you. 

"Mmm," she drags her lips down her cheek and you feel the gloss smear on your skin, "you delicious, aren't you??" She purrs, "he's going to like you so much." 

She rams her fingers as deep as she can, crushing her hand against you violently. You whimper but don't stop her. You're terrified and confused. What is she doing? What does she mean? 

“Relax, honey, I'm just getting you ready for him,” she growls and nuzzles you, “you're so tight. He’s really going to enjoy that.” 

You squirm as a whine escapes you. You hide beneath your eyelids as she continues her intrusion. Her nose touches yours, lips brushing as her breath cascades hotly across your cheeks. She closes the distance and crushes her mouth to yours, her tongue delving inside without welcome. 

Your head pulses and spins, your body sets alight as you wriggle, helpless to her affections. Your heart lurches as a vision flashes in your mind. It’s not Ann, it’s Andy atop of you, touching you, forcing you, smothering you. 

You turn your face away and gasp. Your eyes roll open, glossy with tears as you push on Ann’s shoulders. You’re too weak to make a difference as she nips and kisses at your neck instead. She keeps you splayed her legs against yours as she tilts her hand, fucking you to the knuckle as she puffs in tandem. 

“Mm,” she purrs, “be a good girl... yeah, are you getting wet for him? For my husband?” 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“Don’t be ashamed. A pathetic thing like you has simple desires, don’t you?” She taunts, “he’s your doctor, sweetheart, and you’re panting like a dog to have him.” 

“Please... stop,” you beg as you grasp her upper arm, “I don’t...” 

“I can see it,” she snarls and bits along your jawline, “baby, I’m not mad at it. He needs a new toy.” She shoves her fingers as deep as they’ll go, “he might play with you but he comes home to me.” 

You sniffle and slap your hand down on the bed. You can’t fight her. You deserve this. She’s right. You’re a bad person. You like Dr. Kemp more than you should. You’re a patient and she’s his wife. 

“Mmm,” she drags herself down your body, keeping her hand buried between your legs, “let me help you...” 

She kneels between your legs and tears down your pants. Your body bounces on the bed as you lay paralysed to her whims. She untangles your pants from your legs and hurls away the fabric. She bends to breathe into the tuft of hair along your pelvis. 

She nuzzles and pokes her tongue between your folds. You clench your teeth and stare at the wall. You hold air in your chest as she keeps her fingers sliding in and out, teasing your bud as she hums. Your feet arch even as you fight to stay number to her touch.  

Just like with Andy, you want it to end. You need it to be over. You wiggle your nose as you try to keep the tears from falling. How could you ever believe you were saved? More foolishly, how could you think Steve could ever like you like that? 

Your eyes glaze over as the plucking of her tongue twangs in your core. No, no, no, you don’t want to feel. You pant and puff, trying to hold back the effect of her violation. You dig your nails into the blanket and squeak as your insides coil and release. You spasm and whimper through the uninvited orgasm and bite your lip until you taste blood. 

She keeps touching you, invading you as she shoves her fingers into your cunt. She pushes to her knuckles and slides back out, slow as she pulls her mouth off of you. She purrs as she dips in and out, long strokes that have you squirming. It hurts, more than physically. 

You turn your head straight and cry out as you notice a shadow behind her. You couldn’t hear Steve past your own deafening breaths. So caught up in the whirlwind of your horror that your heartbeat tamped out all around you.  

Ann tilts her head up as he stands behind her. His thick hands rest on her shoulders, kneading them as he bends to kiss her lips. She murmurs something you can’t make out and drags her fingers down your thigh, leaving a wet streak down your flesh. 

She shifts back on her heels and stands, turning to her husband as you sniffle. You can’t hold back anymore. You’re mortified. You push your legs together as he caresses her cheek and whispers to her. He turns to you, his blue eyes drifting over your body. 

You sit up as he presses a knee to the mattress. You bend your legs and fold them against your chest. He comes towards you and tickles up your calves. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he coos, “you can trust me.” 

“Please,” you croak, “you... you’re married.” 

“Sweetie, it’s... open. An arrangement. It’s fine. You’re not doing anything wrong,” he trails his hand up your calf, “just relax.” 

“Steve, I...” you pout. 

He pauses and sits back on his heels, his forehead lines and his face falls, “I thought... I thought you liked me.” 

“I do but I didn’t know...” you look at Ann as she watches you with a smirk, biting her index fingers coyly. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something, I know, but I... I like you too,” he breathes, “and she knew about you. All this time. Wasn't she nice to you?” He turns his head, “Ann...” 

“She came,” she pokes her finger into her mouth and sucks on it, popping it out, “she’s sweet. Why don’t you have a taste?” 

You blanch and peer between them. Your heart is fluttering wildly. You’re dizzy but you can’t decipher the swirling inside of you. You don’t know if you want this. You don’t what you want.  

You bat your eyes at Steve and your heart flips. No, you know you want Steve. That day you touched yourself and he flashed into your mind you were sure. For the first time in your life, you really wanted something. 

“Sweetheart,” leans forward, his hands on the mattress, “can I kiss you?” 

Your lip quivers. He says it’s okay. She’s not mad. So it must be... 

Can you really say no? It’s their house. They welcomed you in and if you leave... what do you do? Go back to Andy? 

You nod, “okay.” 

She smile and moves towards you slowly. He leans over your knees and cradles your face. Your nerves go haywire, fiery as they ping off of each other. You dreamt of this. His hands on you, gentle and patient, him bending his head, his lips inches from yours. Your mouths meet and sparks fly. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to forget the other body in the room. He hums and you put your hand on his arm, bracing him as you push your lips against his. His tongue pokes around and you open your mouth. It’s much nicer than kissing Andy. 

He moves closer, keeping his mouth on yours. His hand crawls up your leg and he urges your knees apart. You unlock them and he moves between them. He lays you down slowly, delving deep into your mouth, devouring you. You’re breathless and windswept by his intensity. 

His lips slip down your cheek and his hand creeps down your body. He tugs at your sweater, rolling it up your torso. He pushes it up and up and up. You raise your arms and he parts as he pulls it above your head. He sweeps it off your arms and throws it away. 

He falls on you again as you squeak. He crushes you beneath him as he kisses you fervently, hungrily. You feel his need against you. 

“Mm, honey, you’re such a tease,” Ann taunts and your lashes flick. 

He draws back, “relax, sweetheart,” he pets your cheek and once more smothers your lips. 

He growls into your mouth, rolling his hips against you, pushing his rigid excitement against your naked pelvis. You whine and squeeze his shoulder, your other hand clasping around the front of his shirt. The friction fills you with torturous heat. 

He parts again, kissing the tip of your nose, then your forehead, your cheeks, your jawline. He slides down your body leaving a speckling of kisses along your flesh. He feels the thin fabric of your bra and nips at each tit, burying his face between them. 

“You always play with your food,” Ann’s shadow shifts and she sits in the chair in the corner.  

You can’t see much past Steve’s shoulders as he bends over you, dragging himself back. He lowers himself to his stomach and hooks his hands around your thighs. His hot breath scours over your cunt and you gasp. You push yourself up on your elbows and watch him nuzzle the patch of coarse curls. 

He flicks is tongue between your folds quickly and you twitch. He does it again and you react just the same. He purrs and delves his tongue down along your lips and swipes it up slowly. His eyes stick to yours as you watch dumbly. 

He centres on your clit and seals his lips around it, sucking as you cry out at the sparkling pressure. Your arms collapse and fall flat on your back. You arch as he hums and pushes your legs against the sides of his head. He rocks his head, growling as he laps you up, moving you with him. 

Your fingers curls and you drag them up and down your stomach, leaving hot lines as you writhe and moan. You reach down and feel his thick waves, clutching them as you push your pelvis into him. He is so warm, so delicate, so delightful. He’s nicer than you could ever dream. 

Shallow puffs scrape from your throat and your chest rises and falls. Your voice escapes in little mewls and moans, piquing as you tug on his hair and quake. You cum, feeling how you slicken in his mouth, how his tongue spread around your pleasure. That sensation tingles through you from head to toe. 

Your eyes snap up as suddenly a hand frames your chin. Ann sits on the bed sideways, she’s naked. She bends over you, kissing you. You babble, weakly nudging her with your hand. Steve’s tongue swirls and has you too spastic to resist. She pulls backs, circling the tip of her nose around yours, and she sighs. 

“Steve, I want to see you in her,” she turns to face him, reaching to toy with your tits. 

He lifts himself, his face flushed, his lips and nose glistening. His eyes are alight. Your head lolls back and forth.  

Ann pulls down the cups of your bra, tweaking so you cry out. She gropes and grabs, twirling her thumb around your budding nipples. You bring your hands to your sides and clasp the blankets. 

Steve strips off his sweater, his hair messy as he drops it over the end of the bed. He stands to push down his jeans as his erection bulges inside his briefs. You gurgle as Ann continues to play with you, tickling up and down your stomach before once more fondling your chest.  

Steve rolls down his briefs and springs free. You gape at his size and tense. Ann leans down to press her cheek to yours, “relax, baby, he’s going to take good care of you.” 

She turns her head and kisses your cheek before she sits up again. Her hand dances around your torso as she purrs and watches her husband kneel between your knees. His thighs press to your and he prods along your folds. He rubs his tip against you, wetting himself, up and down, smearing your juices around. 

“Hurry up,” Ann demands. 

He exhales, his muscled chest straining as you bit your lip. He pushes against your entrance and slides into you. He inches in, little by little, and Ann leans forward. She stares between your legs as he sinks to his limit and yours. Your body racks and you reach down as you whimper. 

“Fuck...” Steve groans, his voice raspy like a snarling beast. 

“Is she tight, baby?” Ann asks, “hmm, is she?” 

“Yeah,” he pulls back and rolls back in. You moan and grip your own hips as your toes curl. “She’s squeezing me so good.” 

“Keep fucking her,” Ann sneers, “fuck her good.” 

Ann bounces around the bed, hovering next to her husband, pressing against him as she reaches to squeeze his ass. She kisses his shoulder as he groans and rocks his hips smoothly into you. Your eyes roll back as your walls quiver. 

“You better fill her up,” Ann snarls, “I want her leaking with you, baby.” 

He ruts into you hard, jolting you as your legs splay around him limply. He squeezes your thighs, holding you in place as he speeds up thrust by thrust. You look down hazily. He snaps his hips as Ann brings her hand over one of his. She hums and leans her head against him. 

“Are you going to cum?” She taunts, “huh, baby, are you gonna gush inside of her? You going to make a mess...” 

“Stop--” he hisses. 

“Come on, she’s almost there,” she reaches to put her thumb on your clit, rolling it around until you’re whining. “Baby girl, go on and cum on his dick.” She presses harder as you tense, “do it.” 

You push your head back and your chest up. You orgasm as Steve keeps his rhythm. You clench around him, clinging to him as he groans and grunts. He slams into you, over and over, his voice drone out of him through gaspy breaths. 

“That’s it, you fill her up nice and good,” Ann flicks your oversensitive clit, “oh, bad boy, cumming in your own patient. What a bad doctor.” 

He slows and your body goes slack. As he stops, still half inside of you, you feel his cum trickling down from your cunt. You blink and peek down at him as he hangs his head. Ann rubs his arm and he shrugs her off. He slides out and backs off the bed. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” He growls under his breath as he snatch his pants off the floor. 

He pulls them on, leaving them undone as he holds them up and stalks to the door. She giggles and watches him go. She sighs and looks at you as the door snaps shut. 

“He can be so sensitive,” she wiggles her fingers between your folds and you tremble, “just like you, huh?” 

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #librarian au #steve kemp #dark steve kemp #dark!steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #fresh #defending jacob #don't speak

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Tales of Turning Pages

Every Tuesday, aspiring romance novelist Anthony J. Crowley pays a visit to his local library and the charming angel working there. Every Tuesday, Aziraphale Fell finds himself more and more intrigued by the curious stranger who turns his orderly life as a small-town librarian upside down .

Length: 73,448 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU, Romance

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by foolishlovers

*Minor Spoilers* This is a very sweet AU! Crowley here is a non fiction author looking for inspiration for a romance book of his own. Aziraphale is a librarian who is more than a little eager to help! Full of awkward flirting, and the promise of a very tender romance ahead of them.

There are two points that I really loved about this story in particular. I love trans Crowley already, but I like that this was more of a background detail for him. It's not angst or hard, it's not an obstacle, it just is. We don't have any agonizing over it. It's a part of Crowley, but it's not a barrier to his life or his new relationship with Aziraphale. On Aziraphale's side, I really love how he is not a stuffy pretentious librarian. He makes it a point to read anything and everything. His joy in being able to recommend books to Crowley and others is infectious. It made me want to put down fanfic and read a novel....which is unlikely to actually happen considering I have a full on fanfic addiction.

The cast of characters here is really fun, though some moments I felt like I was listening to conversations that I wasn't apart of. There's some history and subtext, particularly with Anathema, that I felt like I had missed some context on. You can tell there's going to be a lot of love in this community. When the story ends, it feels like it's only the beginning for this entire group. You can tell are going to become so important to each other.

Mostly safe in public, a couple of explicit scenes but they are towards the end! This was a very nice light afternoon read!

Read it here, fic by foolishlovers

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Tales of Turning Pages #foolishlovers #human au #books au #artist au #writer au #trans character #pick me up #long #three flames #mostly safe in public #librarian au

[georgiapeach30513]

Jen, this, I wasn't ready! 🥵

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRvmbdLq/

Ma’am 😳😳 I have too many thots 🫣

#AI!Sebastian #librarian AU #library #teacher AU

[fangeek-girl]

Librarian Obikin AU update

I'm 4 chapters into writing the Librarian Obikin AU. I shall share a tiny bitsy bit:

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The man’s intact eyebrow lifted, nearly hidden by the hair that curved from his side-part over his forehead. Obi-Wan had half a mind to reach up and smooth it down. Keep this beautiful, perfect face intact. Encase it in stone to be admired for eternity.

AKA they met once and Obi-Wan is already head over heels. Anakin is still too obsessed with his own life to notice, but don't worry ;)

#do you like? #please tell me you like this tiny unedited bit #I need love to push me to continue #Librarian AU #Obikin #my stuff #my fics

[bobfloydsbabe]

library au one shot | bob floyd x oc | coming soon

SUMMARY: Bob Floyd runs a small library with his friends. Norah Lebbai is a debut author looking for a place to host her book release party. When she stumbles through the doors of his library, Bob and Norah’s not so distant worlds collide.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SPECIAL THANKS: To @ryebecca without whom this story would not exist. She created this librarian!bob moodboard and graciously let me write a fic inspired by it. You're a star. Thank you!

JOIN THE TGM TAGLIST (google form–no personal info required)

“Hey Bob?”

Bob looked to his left, finding Natasha leaning on the doorframe to the storage room. “Yeah?”

“There’s a woman up front asking to speak to the manager.”

He stifled a groan, placing the book in his hand back in the box. “What’s the problem?”

Nat smiled, something he hadn’t expected, and shook her head a few times. “No problem,” she told him, pushing off the doorframe, and leading the way back towards the front.

Bob frowned. Last month, when the library focused on books with queer characters, several people came in to complain and a few withdrew their donations. Bob and the rest of the staff were brainstorming fundraising ideas, but they’d had little luck so far.

“So, what’s going on?” He asked, falling in step with Natasha.

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “But I don’t think it’s bad.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, she’s smoking hot,” Jake interjected as coming into their line of view with a stack of books on naval aviation in his arms.

Natasha glared at him. “Her hotness has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, so you agree she’s hot?” Jake argued, not even bothering to hide the grin forming on his face.

Natasha opened her mouth to argue back. “Guys,” Bob scolded, the beginnings of a headache forming at his temples. Jake and Natasha had always bickered, but his tolerance for it varied. Today he was not in the mood, especially if he was about to be yelled at by a dissatisfied patron.

Sometimes, he questioned the decision to hire his friends.

Jake followed behind them to the welcome desk where Bob expected to find an angry-looking woman tapping her food with her arms crossed.

Instead, he and his band of merry men found no one. Not a soul in sight anywhere at or near the vicinity of the desk, and neither was the man who drew the short end of the straw and was supposed to man the desk today.

“She was here when I left,” Natasha swore, looking around for the now lost woman.

“Bradshaw probably scared her off,” Jake commented, depositing the stack of books on the counter. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Bob reached up and massaged his temples, knocking against the frames of his glasses with every movement. He needed to hunt down the bottle of Tylenol Natasha kept in the staff room.

“If she’s not here,” Bob started, leveling Natasha with a stare. “I’m going back to sort through the new inventory.”

“Robert Floyd, don’t you dare leave,” she said, her voice clear and stern, making him stand up straighter as if his grandmother had risen from the grave just to criticize his posture. “You stay right there. I’ll find her.”

He made eye contact with Jake, who simply shrugged, as Natasha walked off to locate the mystery woman.

Bob leaned against the side of the semicircular desk while Jake hauled the stack of aviation books down onto the desk itself to run through the computer. He listened to the typing, wondering where Bradley had wandered off to. It wasn’t the first time he’d neglected his responsibilities, but it was the first time he’d lost a guest.

“What do you think it’s about?”

Jake peered up at Bob. “I don’t k–”

One of the heavy double doors opened a crack, allowing a small squeaky “help” to escape through. Bob leapt forward and pulled the door, revealing a young woman with shoulder length dark hair, smooth brown skin, and sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, her chest rising and falling while she gasped for air. She stepped forward, but her shoe caught on the doorstep, making her stumble and almost collide with Bob’s chest.

He caught her by the arm, fingertips holding onto the soft skin of her bare arms while the other remained on the door handle. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

She stood upright, sliding her sunglasses up on her head, and straightened out her dress. “I’m okay,” she told him. “But please don’t call me ma’am ever again.”

“Noted,” he replied and offered her a reassuring smile. “Anything we can help you with?”

She stepped further inside, allowing Bob to release the door. “I’m supposed to speak to the manager,” she began, glancing at the cork message board. On it was an array of flyers advertising babysitting services, information on community events, and the annual blood drive coming up next month. “A woman named Na–”

“There you are,” Natasha exclaimed as she appeared in the doorway to the right that led toward the computer room.

The woman spun on her heel. “I’m sorry. I had a missed call from my agent, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone, so I took it outside,” she explained. “I told the guy behind the desk to let you know, in case I didn’t make it back before you did.”

“Can we fire Bradshaw now?” Jake asked as he stood, leaning his forearms on the wooden surface.

“No.”

He shrugged. “Worth a shot,” he mumbled and sat back down. Bob looked at Natasha expectantly, waiting for her to make the introduction, but it didn’t come before their guest offered Bob her hand to shake.

“You must be the manager, Robert Floyd,” she said with an inviting smile.

He shook her hand, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the contact with her palm. “Bob’s fine.” He let go, flexing his fingers as the tips of his ears warmed.

“Bob,” she repeated, corners of her mouth still turned upward. “I’m Norah Lebbai. I, uh, so, my first book is about to be published, and I guess I just wanted to know if I could have the release party here.”

Bob’s eyes darted to Natasha, who leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her. She raised a brow, but offered him an encouraging nod.

He looked back at Norah and pointed a finger at the carpeted floor. “Here?”

“Yeah,” she beamed, enthusiasm encapsulating her entire body, and her dark eyes widened with excitement. “We can make it a double event. Like my release party and a fundraiser for the library at the same time. Not that I think you need funds, but I know libraries are under-funded, especially the smaller ones, so I just thought that might work. My publisher will pay for everything to do with my event, like catering and drinks, but I could talk to them and maybe set something up, so people will donate to the lib—”

“Miss Lebbai, why don’t–”

“Norah,” she corrected him, a frown etched on her face. “My high school math teacher called me Miss Lebbai and I’m having flashbacks to crying over algebra. Repeatedly. For years.”

She shuddered and laughter bloomed Bob’s chest, but he offered her an amused smile instead. “Why don’t we go to my office to talk?”

The grin returned, and she adjusted the sunglasses on her head. “Lead the way.”

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x oc #robert floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #librarian au #library au #otp: bob x norah #oc: norah lebbai #bob floyd x reader #<- forgive me for that one #i just want to reach more people #helena writes #mywriting #writtenbyme #madebyme #coming soon #this is gonna be so freaking long

[jaskierror]

in ways that can't be said — chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE — SNORES & SNORTS

Geralt, a very tired and very overworked librarian, finds an eccentrically dressed man asleep in the library right as they're about to close.

Jaskier, a very tired and very overworked educator at the local museum, accidentally falls asleep in a library whilst doing research for an upcoming exhibit and is awoken by a devastatingly attractive librarian.

---

By the time closing rolled around, Geralt really, truly, honestly just wanted to go home.

In general, Geralt preferred to not work closing shifts. The library stayed open until 7pm most evenings, but he liked to be home with Ciri as early as possible; Lambert was always happy to watch her until Geralt got off work, given that Lambert’s job in Dol Blathanna’s Public Works department wasn’t a traditional 9-to-5, but, well. Geralt missed his daughter, is all, and was perhaps a bit clingy when it came to her. Sue him for loving his kid.

Despite his reluctance to work past 5pm, Renfri had caught the flu, and Geralt had agreed to cover her shift while she recovered, meaning he would be at the library until about 7:30. Of course, by the time it was half past 5, he was itching to get home—by then, he would normally be pulling into his driveway in Upper Posada, and Ciri would be running outside to greet him while Lambert watched them with poorly disguised fondness from the front porch. He would pick his daughter up, balance her on his hip, ask her about her day at school and what she and her Uncle Lambert had been up to since she got home. He would get to kiss her on her forehead, and cook dinner (lately, she had become a big fan of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets), and—

Anyway. Enough of that.

The minutes and hours ticked by with relentless, deliberate slowness, and Geralt felt nothing but relief when it was finally,  finally time  to start closing. Zoltan offered to organize the information desk and the front seating areas while Geralt swept the shelves for any stragglers and re-shelved any books sitting around.

Geralt worked quickly, eager to finish up and return home—in the back of his mind, he wondered what Lambert and Ciri had eaten for dinner—and he was returning a book of traditional Temerian recipes to its rightful shelf when he heard…

Well.

It seemed to be somewhere between a snore and a snort, in all honesty, and Geralt could only sigh deeply and brace himself before rounding the corner.

He had been expecting any of a number of things, really. Typically, it was elderly people who would fall asleep at the tables, but in his years of working at the library, Geralt had practically seen it all.

Still, he was surprised when, in one of the cushioned wooden chairs, slumped down onto the round table and surrounded by a veritable pile of books, was a man with a mop of brown hair actively using an open book as a pillow. There was a peaceful expression on his face, features soft and neutral and relaxed, and he seemed to be drooling onto the book just a bit. His clothing was… colourful, mostly. He wore a pair of bright purple slacks and brown loafers. On top of a short-sleeved button down, he had on a sweater vest with a garish blue leaf pattern covering it. There was a well-made leather satchel slung over the back of his chair, and Geralt spotted an assortment of silver rings on his hand.

Right as Geralt finished looking him over, the man released another ungodly snore from deep within his chest, and Geralt had to resist the urge to snort in amusement as he walked over and shook the man gently by his shoulder. Almost immediately, he grumbled into the book and began to blink awake, and Geralt hastily removed his hand, waiting patiently as he got his wits about him.

After a quick stretch in his seat, the man twisted to face him, still blinking the tiredness from his eyes, and Geralt was shocked by just how blue they were as he stared up at Geralt. The man froze for a moment, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights, before he seemed to take in his surroundings and look properly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” the man grinned sheepishly, then paused to yawn and rub at his eye before continuing. “I must’ve fallen asleep. Do you, uh, happen to know what time it is?”

Geralt looked down at his watch, then back up at the man. “Five till seven.”

“Oh, fuck,” he cursed, standing up. (Geralt was slightly ashamed to admit that he hadn’t realized until just then that the man was of a height with him.) He began hastily stacking books and piling some in his arms. “Is there still time to check these out? I can come back tomorrow if not, but I was really hoping that I—”

“Calm down,” Geralt said, raising an eyebrow at the man’s hurried, panicked flurry of movement. “Go to the desk. Zoltan can help you. You can leave anything you’re not borrowing here.”

Relief and hope flashed though the man’s unnecessarily blue eyes. “You’re sure?”

Geralt just nodded stiffly, watching as the man thanked him profusely and gathered his things, carrying a handful of books with him as he rushed off toward the lobby. Once he’d disappeared and his shuffling footsteps faded out, Geralt rummaged through the rest of the titles he’d accumulated. They all seemed to be on art and music across the Continent—a book of Aedirnian folk songs, a history of Kerackian musical movements, an encyclopaedia of Kaedweni sculptors. Geralt hummed under his breath, then began the monotonous job of putting everything in its rightful place.

---

In his defense, Jaskier really hadn’t meant to fall asleep at the table.

Ever since he’d moved to Aedirn, he found himself exhausted more often than not. His life had consisted of a series of rather sporadic, spontaneous moves ever since he decided to leave his family home in Kerack to pursue the arts. He’d moved to Redania years ago to attend none other than Oxenfurt Academy, and had spent his summers gallivanting around the countryside with his schoolfriends. After three years of study, he graduated with degrees in Music Performance and Art History, and a year later, had earned a graduate degree as well. He had then promptly departed for a year of backpacking through Temeria, after which he’d returned to Oxenfurt to teach for a term. Most recently, he had uprooted his entire life to move to Dol Blathanna. He’d decided on a bit of a whim that he needed a change of pace—new places, new sights, new people. As soon as he had a job lined up as an educator and program developer at the Dol Blathanna’s Museum of Art and History—which, everyone had to admit, was truly a perfect fit for him—he had packed his things and been on his way.

That had been nearly two months ago, and Jaskier had been working overtime to establish a life for himself in the city. He’d always been a restless person, needing noise and hustle and bustle to keep himself sane, so he had signed a lease for a rather expensive apartment close to the city’s center. On the bright side, the location made his commute to work rather convenient, and he was near enough to nightlife that he had found a handful of bars and cafés he could play the occasional gig at. He’d also taken to offering music lessons on the weekends to help make ends meet. Between his musical pursuits, unpredictable work hours, and numerous side jobs, he was, well. Pretty tired, all things considered.

However, there was no time to rest! He had been tasked with a laundry list of assignments at work in order to prepare for the summer; the museum always put on educational programming and enrichment opportunities for children when schools were out of session, and Jaskier’s job was to propose and develop said programming. Thus, on one of his rare days off, he had gone to the library to do a bit of light research; he had a handful of ideas for some interactive exhibits, but he needed to flesh them out a bit more.

The research ended up being less light than he had planned, because of course it had, and soon enough, Jaskier had a pile of books around him. By the time he had finished flipping through the third book, he was becoming rather tired, and—

Okay, well. Look. Here’s the thing. Jaskier was tired, and he had been up until very early in the morning because he’d played a gig for some swanky hotel bar in the central business district, and the library was just cold enough that it was making him drowsy, and the sounds of people flipping through pages and trodding up and down the aisles was soothing him, and the books were, in all honesty, starting to bore him, and—

He fell asleep. He fell asleep, okay, and in his opinion, that was a very reasonable consequence given the clusterfuck of a headache his week had been.

Next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by a man gorgeous enough that Jaskier, for a brief moment, froze in place and forgot entirely where he was. (He froze, which he never does. Julian Alfred Pankratz does not freeze, gods dammit, but sweet Melitele, who could blame him? The man was stunning.) He was tall and broad-shouldered, his long white hair tied messily into an updo with a few strands framing his face; he had honey-golden eyes, a strong brow and nose and jawline, and a few faint scars decorating his face. He wore a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a very flattering pair of black jeans. He also, much to Jaskier’s embarrassment, had a name-tag; in large letters, it read GERALT RIVIA, and underneath, in smaller text, LIBRARIAN . The library’s logo was depicted to the left.

A very gorgeous man, and a librarian to boot? Unfair.

Though he tried to appear smooth and suave and generally like a competent, put-together adult, Jaskier knew he fumbled through his interaction with the man, and he felt a bit like a fool the entire time. As he practically scurried off with his handful of books, his face and neck warmed with embarrassment. At the desk, he found the “Zoltan” individual Geralt had spoken of, a short, stocky man with a mohawk and full beard, and Jaskier hurried through the transaction before practically fleeing from the library. It wasn’t until he had returned to his apartment nearly twenty minutes later that he finally felt like he could breathe again.

He went through his evening routine of taking a scalding hot shower, changing into pajamas, and lounging on his couch with leftover takeout and a glass of Est Est. (Est Est was definitely beyond what he could afford at the moment; that particular bottle had been a farewell gift from Essi.) As he ate and drank, he flipped through the books he had checked out and wrote out ideas, notes, and questions in his work notebook. And if he occasionally remembered his downright embarrassing encounter at the library and then buried his face in a pillow as he tried to emotionally recover, that was nobody’s business but his own.

As the hours passed and the clock crept closer to midnight, he’d come up with more questions than anything else, which was. A bit of an issue.

Even with his extensive studies in art history, Jaskier didn’t know as much about Aedirnian artistic customs—his studies had placed a focus on traditions in remote, mountainous regions of Redania and Kaedwen. He could talk for hours about the production of Redanian watercolour paints, and had quite literally co-written one of the most comprehensive books on Kaedweni folk music, but he’d wanted the museum’s summer programming to have an emphasis on local arts, which meant that he’d need some help.

He then realized that this probably meant asking one of his new coworkers for direction, which he would, to be quite frank, rather perish than do, because he felt that most of them already thought he was silly and foppish and deeply unserious, with the way he was always running to and fro with his head barely attached to his shoulders, never seen without a cup of coffee and bags under his eyes. However, it was either facing his coworkers, all of whom had chronic cases of stick-up-the-ass-itis, or… going back to the library, and potentially facing the tall-gorgeous-intimidating librarian again. (Geralt, his brain supplied helpfully.)

Neither option sounded particularly appealing, and both avenues would undoubtedly lead to Jaskier making a fool of himself, so he decided that he would simply go to the library as soon as it opened at nine in the morning; he severely doubted that the man would be working from nine to seven on a daily basis, so he was probably in the clear.

…Probably.

---

AN: hey y'all! hope you enjoy chapter 1!! keep up with me on my ao3, found +here, and my twitter @nottveth. chapters 2 and 3 are already written and posted on ao3, but will be updated here over the next few days.

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #museum au #librarian au #geraskier fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #fluff #modern au #my fics #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geralt of rivia #ciri #cirilla of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #lambert #renfri #eskel #witcher eskel #the witcher netflix #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt and jaskier #geralt and ciri #gerlion #gerlion fic #dandelion

[mediocre-daydreams]

don quixote and the classics // bucky barnes bookstore! au

pairing: bucky barnes x bookkeeper! reader

summary: bucky develops a sudden affinity for secondhand books from one specific store, and coincidentally, that store just so happens to employ a pretty, intriguing bookkeeper. from don quixote to the history of Hun empire archery techniques, bucky just wants to see you again.

warnings: swearing, mutual pining, the avengers are meddling assholes but i love it, couple references to my favorite books, and oblivious reader

w/c: 6.5k

prompt 6 by @juicywritinghoard

“librarian desperate to understand what wild phase the other character is going thru rn”

＊✿❀　❀✿＊

when you dreamed of moving to new york, you had hoped your days would be spent glamourously lounging in high-end bars, frequenting gentrified hip indie cafés (because let’s be honest, you can’t escape them these days), and/or getting yourself a sugar daddy.

what you didn’t plan for was working six days a week at a shitty bookstore where you tripped over the loose floorboard behind the counter even after three months. granted, the “shittiness” of it all was quite charming, and the old man who owned the place was probably the sweetest person you’d ever met—which said a lot because you hated old people.

the business had been slaw. as aforementioned, the gentrified millennial-catered cat-café-bookshop-cabaret-bars blew whatever “run-down charm” your store could try to advertise itself as. you spent most of your time abandoning the counter, since it wasn’t like there were customers who needed to purchase things anyway. instead, you’d found yourself lost in shelves of haphazardly organized books (fuck the dewey decimal system), trying to squeeze in new finds (and by new, you meant the battered up copies that the owner’s friends had no more use for) but eventually settling for stacking them horizontally on top of the rows and rows of dusty books.

you’d never admit it, but this place had become your home. sure, it was probably decomposing. and you swore that you saw a squirrel in there once. but you and your single coworker were always treated with baked goods from the owner and paid a reasonable salary. the owner had done so much for you back when you were a naive, freshly moved-in new yorker. he’d fed you when your bills were becoming too much, he offered you a job and made sure you were paid enough, and once, he even let you crash on the cushy chairs in the back when the subway was down and a thunderstorm was raging. 

today was like any average day, so essentially a day full of nothing. stevie nicks crooned through the old radio—the owner insisted on CDs—and you hummed along, occasionally singing some of the lyrics you knew. when the bell chimed and you heard the hinges of the door squeak, you yourself let out a squeak.

“uh, hello?” a raspy male voice called from the front of the store. he cleared his throat. “is there anyone- are you guys open? i didn’t see a closed sign or anything and the lights were on so…” he was speaking to nobody in particular, trailing off after he heard no response.

“okay, um, no worries! have a good day,” he called to no one, turning to leave.

“wait! wait, come back!” you huffed as you ran to the front of the store, clutching your stomach to catch your breath. “sorry, i thought i was hallucinating. we haven’t had a customer in a long time.” you winced. “that’s really bad advertising, isn’t it,” you muttered to yourself.

the man laughed. “no worries, i’m enjoying our introduction, actually.” he hesitantly held his flesh hand out for you to shake. “bucky. bucky barnes?” he waited for some sort of recognition to flash in your eyes, or maybe a recoil, or maybe for you to ask him to leave. instead, you took his hand in yours and gave him two firm shakes. he smiled at your confident grip.

“as much as i’m glad you’re enjoying this introduction at my expense—sorry about that, by the way; customer service is not my thing—how can i help you?”

“i’m looking for a book,” he said, eyes flickering around the crowded bookshelves as if he were a little intimidated.

“then you’re in the right place,” you snorted. “sorry, that was rude of me. sorry. do you know what you’re looking for? our organization system is a bit… unique, so i can show you to our different sections if you need.”

“that’d be great, actually,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “do you have anything on… gardening? botanicals? specifically flowers? ones that are native to the east coast would be preferable.”

you smiled, picturing the burly man in front of you curled up on an armchair, scanning pages and pages about delicate, colorful petals and local flora. “we do, actually! come with me.”

the man—no, bucky—trailed behind you, mesmerized by the way you navigated seemingly random stacks of books with such familiarity. you stopped abruptly and he nearly walked into you—and thank god for that, because he probably would’ve run you over.

“here ‘ya go!” you chirped, running your hand over the spines of botanical books fondly. “if it’s not too invasive to ask, but why are you looking for books on flowers? no offense, but you don’t really seem like,” you waved your hands around, “a flower kind of guy.”

bucky chuckled, already immersed in his hunt for the perfect book. “you’re right, i’m not. my friend wanda’s been wanted to start a garden, but she’s always been a city girl. we have a place further out from the city with a good amount of land, so i’m hoping to get her started.”

“that’s so sweet!” you swooned, smiling widely. “you’re such a wonderful boyfriend. god, those are rare.”

“oh no- uh, we’re not dating,” bucky stammered, cheeks flushing slightly as he refused to meet your eyes. his hands froze midair, fingers dancing across the spine of a book. “we just live… together. there’s a lot of us there.”

“ah, so you guys are like fancy outskirts-of-new-york co-inhabitants, huh?” you gazed at the ceiling thoughtfully. “never met anyone like that.”

“well, normal is not a word i’d use to describe myself,” he said with a hint of bitterness. was that right? he was bitter?

you leaned against one of the shelves as you watched him search. when he found what he was looking for, he turned with the book clutched against his chest, giving you a triumphant grin.

“you found one! c’mon, i’ll get you all checked out.”

bucky couldn’t help but watch as your fingers danced across the old register whose numbers on the keys had begun to fade. you flipped the book to the back to check the price. “hey, you got a good deal! five dollars, please.” 

he fished for his wallet and handed you a crumpled bill. you smiled and handed him his book. perhaps it was intentional or maybe it was simply an accident, but bucky shivered when your fingertips brushed against his own. “it was nice to meet you, bucky,” you waved cheerfully as he left, a bit reluctant to say goodbye. he held his hand up in parting, walking out the door backward to keep you in his sight for as long as possible, almost bumping into a passing pedestrian who shot him a glare. you giggled.

as he began the walk back to the subway, he flipped through his new book. he smiled to himself. right in the center of the pages was a delicate bookmark, stained with dancing hues of a painter’s watercolor touch.

-- 

wanda was overjoyed at bucky’s gift. she seemed to love the secondhand nature of it, claiming “that’s what gives it personality!” bucky agreed that the book had personality, but he didn’t think it was because of its age. it was because it reminded him of the sweet bookkeeper’s smile. unbeknownst to wanda, he’d taken the bookmark out and kept it for himself.

steve’s birthday was coming up, and seeing as wanda couldn’t stop gushing over her plants, the rest of the team had taken an interest to where the book had come from. when living in a hundred-million-dollar complex, something as simple as the concept of paying for a battered-up, used item was a bit foreign.

“you’re back!” you’d exclaimed at the sight of bucky’s smiling face. it was late june, and between his first meeting with you and today’s mission of retrieving a birthday present for steve, he’d stopped by three times already.

“your favorite regular has arrived,” he grinned, draping himself over the counter teasingly to admire your face. you swatted him away.

“you’re my only regular and you know it.” you tapped his nose. “so what are you looking for today?” you came out from behind the counter, taking extra care to skip over the loose floorboard. after tripping over it twice in front of bucky, you were determined to take extra caution.

“something on art, actually.” he looked down at you adoringly as you stood in front of him, head tilted up to meet his eyes as you rocked back and forth excitedly on the balls of your feet.

“ooooh, you’re versatile!” you wrapped your small hand around his wrist, catching bucky off guard, but by some miracle, a wave of courage swept over him and he slipped his wrist out of your grasp and interlocked your fingers with his. if you were caught off guard, you made no indication, but bucky could swear your heart jumped a little.

you weaved the two of you through the shelves once more. the two of you were fully aware that bucky could probably navigate just fine on his own after his multiple visits here, but neither of you would complain about the extra few minutes you’d get to spend together. 

as he browsed, you settled into your usual routine of chatting as he searched and you leaned casually against a shelf. “... so first you come in with gardening, and then the next week it’s archery during the Hun empire, and then last week you get two books—which were great picks, by the way; you were very tasteful with the don quixote and thinking of you reading alice in wonderland absolutely made my day-” 

bucky blushed. you had been thinking of him?

“-and now you’re here for art? i’ve got to say, i’m extremely impressed, buck.”

he stood up from his crouch, where he had been examining the lower shelves for the perfect book, and held it up to you for approval. this was also part of the routine—he’d pick out a book, you’d inspect it, and if you deemed it a good fit, he’d buy it.

“i love it! mainstreamers of modern art? i never pegged you for a modern art guy, but i see it now. you’re adventurous.” as the two of you made your way through the checkout process, he couldn’t help the thought that’d been running through his mind the past few weeks.

“do you make the bookmarks yourself?

this time, it was your turn to blush. “um, yeah, actually.” you hesitated before handing him his book and meeting his eye. “i’m no picasso,” you tapped on the cover of the book where his art was featured, “but before you started coming, i had a lot of free time. so i started making little bookmarks.”

the loveliest smile you’d ever seen on bucky’s face, or anybody’s face, for that matter, spread ear-to-ear like the flowers you assumed that wanda had successfully been nurturing.

“what is it?” you laughed nervously, tilting your head away from him shyly.

he reached out and took hold of your jaw with a gentle touch. he wasn’t sure where all this courage was coming from. perhaps it was the spirit of capitan america running through his bloodstream. “don’t… don’t look away. don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s beautiful,” he confessed, eyes never leaving yours just as his hand refused to pull away from where it had reached up to caress your face. the two of you were trying to contain your bashful smiles.

“thank… thank you,” you whispered, finding your faces a bit too close for this to be platonic. at this point, you weren’t sure if the “beautiful” bucky had been talking about was referring to the bookmarks or to you. you hoped it was the latter.

the clanging of the bell broke your spell. the both of you jumped back; you pretended to be busying yourself with papers that didn’t exist and bucky’s arms snapped to his side like a soldier in position. a young woman appeared at the door.

“wanda?” bucky revelled, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the figure of a curious customer scanning the store.

“no, bucky. vision decided to emulate me and come all the way down here to terrorize you. yes, it’s me, wanda,” she deadpanned.

“wanda!” you abandoned your nonexistent busywork. “you’re bucky’s roommate? i’ve heard so much about you? how’s the garden coming along? what’d you think of the book? i’m not sure if- i put bookmarks in all the purchased books, i hope yours didn’t fall out! i put a flowery patterned one in there for you,” you gushed, overjoyed to meet a friend of bucky’s and get a glimpse of his personal life which he was incredibly guarded about. oh, and because you had a new customer, obviously.

“bucky’s told me all about you as well! it’s so nice to finally meet you!” you hesitated for a second as wanda wrapped you into a big hug before reciprocating with equal enthusiasm. bucky didn’t care about wanda’s comment as much as he was thrilled to see you get along with his friends.

“and yes, i loved the bookmark,” wanda said, shooting bucky a questioning glance, eyebrows raised. bucky wilted under her knowing look.

“how did you even find me, wanda?” bucky chewed his lip nervously at wanda’s mischievous smirk.

“oh, it was totally an accident. i found this darling store online and i knew i just had to come get steve’s birthday present here. it just so happens that this is the place you’ve been running off to all these weeks! i can’t believe you’d keep this gem to yourself,” she simpered, taking hold of your hand.

“you know, bucky can’t stop talking about this place,” she smiled. “and you,” she whispered connivingly into your ear. you felt your face heat up and hoped wanda couldn’t tell. she could.

“r-really? that’s so sweet of you,” you stammered, eyes flickering between wanda and bucky. bucky looked like he was going to sink into the floor.

you cleared your throat. “so, you said you’re looking for a birthday present? would you like some assistance or are you good to wander on your own?” you deflected, letting go of wanda’s hand when you felt yours begin to clam up.

“well, i see bucky’s already beat me to the art book. i think steve might like a classic though. he’s been trying to catch up on everything he missed when he was under the ice, and i know he’s always had a soft spot for the paperbacks with the pretty colors. you should stop by and check out his collection!”

you narrowed your eyes. “under… under the ice?” you questioned, not sure where this was going and wondering if you needed to call an ambulance and/or schedule a psychological examination for wanda.

“yeah, you- oh, has bucky not told you?” the both of you turned back to look at bucky, who was still frozen in place by the counter with his eyes wide. wanda turned back to you smugly. “we’re here for steve rogers. you know, captain america.”

your mouth dropped as you stared at wanda blankly. you weren’t sure if you were drooling or not, but you wouldn’t be surprised if you were.

“c-capitan america? the real one? a-and are you wanda, as in the scarlet witch? holy shit. and- oh my god,” you panted, eyes wild. “bucky?”

bucky met your eye, apprehensive. “bucky? i’m so fucking stupid. bucky barnes. james barnes. the- the winter soldier?”

bucky flinched, steeling himself for the inevitable. you sounded so afraid, tripping over your words as you tried to say his name. the secret was out now, and he’d have to stop coming to your bookshop—no longer could he tease you, or buy books he didn’t really need, or spend all his spare cash, or help you dust the shelves, or add to his collection of your bookmarks, or-

“bucky, i can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you little sneak!” you ran up to him and slapped his arm playfully. you tugged at your hair. “i’m so blind, aren’t i? you’re wearing a jacket in the summertime. your name is literally barnes. you told me you lived in a fucking compound on the outskirts of new york and i was so caught up in your pretty face to even-”

you slapped your hand over your mouth, eyes widening enough to rival bucky’s own wide eyed stare.

“uh, wanda! you wanted a book?” you rushed over to her side, grabbing her hand and tugging her deeper into the shelves as wanda snuck a look back at bucky, whose face was buried in his hands as he leaned against the counter.

wanda ended up buying 1984. you were a fidgety mess as you checked her out, tucking another one of your bookmarks between the pages. you and bucky didn’t look at each other once. well, that was a lie. your eyes were burning holes into the first edition paperback while bucky snuck glances at the side of your face, watching your concentrated brows and small huff at the sticky keys of the register with a stupid, infatuated smile on his face. wanda elbowed him hard.

“what was that for?” he hissed, lowering his voice and hoping you couldn’t hear him. wanda rolled her eyes.

“thank you so much,” she simpered as you handed her the book with a polite smile. “you know, you’ve done so much for us. bucky’s never been big on reading before,” wanda patted the super soldier’s arm. your eyebrows raised as if to say, oh really?

“hard to believe, right?” she laughed. “he comes here so much i could be fooled. anyways, i was thinking you should come and celebrate steve’s birthday with us! it’s the fourth of july, which is cliché, i know, but if you don’t have any plans you’d be more than welcome! we’d all love to meet the woman that’s gotten bucky all intellectual recently. your books have more of an impact around the compound than you think.”

you looked terrified. “i- what? the compound, as in the avengers compound? wait, captain america’s birthday? a birthday party? you want me to come to america’s party for his birthday?” you gasped, blinking furiously to try and comprehend the insanity of it all.

wanda giggled. “yes! you’re so cute; i can see why bucky likes you so much.” once again, you and bucky blushed and looked at the floor. wanda either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“i mean, i’ll have to- i might have to work but- yes! i’d love to, i just have to check with the owner, uh, thank you? for inviting me to your party? um, are there going to be avengers there?”

wanda shook her head, enamored by your antics. “yes, there will definitely be avengers there. it’ll probably just be the team and their families, but you can be bucky’s plus one. here, let me write down the details for you!”

you slid wanda a piece of scrap paper silently, subtly pinching yourself to check if you were dreaming. you were not.

“here ‘ya go! bucky and i can’t wait to see you there!” she chirped before dragging a dazed bucky out of the store and leaving you breathless. bucky can’t wait to see me there. 

--

“stop being such a sourpuss, bucky.” wanda complained, smacking his arm with a trail of red energy.

“yeah, bucky. if your girlfriend is half as obsessed with you as you are for her, she’ll show up here with a trumpet fanfare and a horse-drawn carriage. you’re down bad, my man, and it’s getting kinda sad.” sam had his arms crossed in front of bucky, who had decided to tag team with natasha to bully bucky all day.

“it’s steve’s birthday, can we just… ugh,” bucky groaned, tugging at his hair. “i don’t even care if she comes or not. it’s not a big deal. i’ve only seen her like, five times. i’m just a customer. so it doesn’t even matter.”

natasha rolled her eyes. “i’m this close,” she demonstrated with her fingers pinched together, “to beating the stupidity out of you, buchanan.” bucky glared at her.

“can you not-”

“shut the fuck up, idiot,” sam interrupted.

natasha elbowed him “okay, the goal is to piss him off, not rip his fragile, lovesick heart into shreds,” she chastised. bucky pursed his lips in frustration and took a deep, calming breath.

“i am going to remove myself from the situation,” he spoke mostly to himself, closing his eyes and remembering with dr. raynor had taught him. as much as he hated his shrink, he had to admit, therapy was coming in handy when it came to dealing with his asshole teammates. de-escalate, bucky. remove yourself from the aggressive environment. good job, bucky. deep, calming breaths. imagine you’re on a quiet beach…

“bucky!” the sound of your honeyed call broke his trance. his heart raced once more. well, shit. that ruined the whole meditative process. but it was worth it if it meant he got to hear his name roll off your tongue, all sugary and pure.

natasha and sam smirked at each other as you ran over to bucky with a gift in hand and bucky took speedy steps over to you with his long legs. he wrapped you into his arms and you squealed as your feet left the ground as you returned his hug with just as much passion.

“hi!” you whispered as you caught your breath, smiling up at him with such joy that he thought he might melt under your gaze before he’d even get a chance to wish steve a happy birthday.

“so you’re the girl that’s turned that frown upside down?” sam joked, taking your hand delicately and planting a charming kiss on the back of it. you laughed breathlessly, unaware of bucky’s pointed look at the back of sam’s head. it didn’t slip natasha’s perceptive gaze, however, and she took note of it.

“i’m natasha,” the spy shook her hand and raised her eyebrows approvingly at your firm handshake. you introduced yourself eagerly. “wow, you’re the black window! i- wow. i love you so much. my coworker and i are such big fans,” you raved, fanning yourself with your hands.

natasha chuckled, taking your hand in hers and lowering it for you. “well, i’m a big fan of you too.” you looked like you were going to pass out. “it’s an honor to meet the woman who’s turned the most petulant, ancient asshole into a cutesy, sappy little boy.”

you gasped dramatically, eyes jumping up to bucky. “bucky’s not an asshole! or a little boy, for that matter. he’s a cultured reader and classics aficionado. one of my best customers, actually,” you said proudly. natasha and sam looked at each other once more, but you and bucky were too immersed in each other’s smiles to notice their smug looks.

“wait, can you fly?” you whipped your head around to sam. “you’re the falcon! of couse you can fly! sam—can i call you sam?—can you take me flying?”

sam opened his mouth presumably to say yes, as he would take any excuse to zip around the compound and annoy his team, but bucky cut him off.

“nope, we’re not doing that. don’t do that, doll,” he looked down at you. you smiled, confused, at the pet name that slipped out of his mouth. “there’s a 70% chance that sam will kill you and a 10% chance that he’ll land roughly and you’ll both fall, and you look too beau- nice for grass stains. plus i’d really like to spend at least a couple hours with you outside of your work before you die.”

you gaped at him, not sure whether to interpret this as him making jabs at sam or him trying to flirt with you. maybe it was both. you were too stunned to analyze any of it anyway.

“buck? hey, you brought your friend!” steve jogged over eagerly with a glint in his eye that bucky did not like one bit. 

“i- oh my gosh- hello? i’m sorry, it’s just that you’re capitan america and that’s pretty cool and stuff and bucky and wanda got books from my store—oh shit, did i just ruin the surprise?” you gasped.

bucky was prepared for steve to scold you for your language, but instead, he burst into a full-bellied laugh that neither of you were expecting. “i may be turning 105, but i’m not blind yet! we can never usually get bucky to talk, but ever since he got wanda her book, it’s all been ‘this girl at the bookstore,’ and ‘did you know that she paints?’ and ‘i wonder what her work schedule’s like because i never see her outside of the store,” steve ranted.

“it’s kind of really annoying, actually,” tony piped in, sauntering over with a half-eaten chocolate covered strawberry in hand. “the gramp won’t shut up about you. it’s nice to know that your favorite vegetable is cauliflower and that you’ve promised to take the tinman to a vegan restaurant. y’know, he hates vegetables. he’s practically a carnivore.”

tony pushed his sunglasses down to give bucky a judging look unobstructed. normally, bucky would’ve retaliated, but all he could do was blush. (from the heat of the sun, obviously. he did forget to put on sunscreen today.)

you looked up at bucky, taking his metal hand and shaking it without hesitation. your fearlessness surprised him—not only had you touched his prosthetic so nonchalantly, but you hadn’t run away screaming after hearing all the embarrassing things his teammates had divulged within the first half hour of your arrival.

“bucky, is it all true?” you teased, licking your lips and tilting your head ever so slightly. bucky knew it was because you were questioning him, but all he could think about was how you were perfectly positioned for him to kiss; all he needed to do was bend down a bit and maybe then he could finally see if you tasted as homely as your books smelled or if you had just eaten cauliflower—somehow, the idea of vegetable breath was appealing if it was on you.

“bucky? you still here?” you poked him in the stomach, which didn’t do much seeing as he was a buff avenger with enhanced strength. he blinked himself into the present.

“yeah, yeah! sorry, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, a habit you’d come to recognize as something he did when he was uncomfortable.

“hey, are you okay?” immediately, the interrogation you were planning on giving him disappeared from your lips and was replaced with eyes of concern. you placed your other hand on top of his metal one and tugged on it to catch his attention. “bucky, c’mon. let’s go somewhere quieter.”

you weren’t really sure had no clue where you were going, but once the bubbling of voices from the party began to fade, you stopped and turned to face him fully. his flesh hand, which had continued to run across his face, paused and slowly sank to his side as you watched him solemnly.

“i know that friends sometimes push things to far,” you laughed quietly, eyes darting to the ground, “and it can hurt a little bit. and sometimes for me it’s hard to tell them that i’m hurt.” you looked back up at him, but his face was expressionless.

you sighed. “i guess you’re right; we don’t know each other that well apart from our interactions at the store. but… if what your friends were saying were true, i’d- well, i’d like to know you better. outside the store, i mean.” your eyes darted between bucky’s intense, blue stare. your gaze never left his, even as he swallowed hard and refused to let any emotion cross his face. by the bob of his adam’s apple, though, you could tell that he was affected somehow.

“i wasn’t joking when i said i’d take you to that restaurant, you know. ‘cuz i really like you and i don’t understand you and your reading choices but i’d really like to because… you intrigue me. i don’t care if your team thinks you’re broody or whatever, ‘cuz i think you’re enigmatic and thoughtful.” 

you dropped his hands. “ha, sorry. i don’t wanna push it; i know you’re probably really overwhelmed right now, it being your friend’s birthday and hosting a stranger and all your friends probably made you really uncomfortable just now so i don’t want to add to your stress-”

“can i kiss you?” bucky murmmured, the tiniest bit of nervousness flashing across his eyes as he pursed his lips in anticipation for your answer.

you needed no words. instead, you raised your arms and jumped, flinging them around his neck and bucky was quick to understand. he caught you, holding you up by your thighs and being careful to keep things respectful (he was a 40s gentleman, after all). bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as his lips met yours cautiously. god, he’d been dreaming about this for so long, and it always felt a bit vouyeristic knowing that you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. how wrong he was about that.

you hadn’t expected bucky’s lips to be so soft and you adored it when you leaned into the kiss. your noses brushed and your hands, after fidgeting with themselves for a bit, climbed up his neck and into his hair, where you tangled your fingers in his locks and gently rubbed over his scalp. he groaned, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.

you had to break off, though, as you were not nearly as capable of holding your breath as long as a super soldier was. you were reluctant to do so, of course, and you pulled away just as much as necessary, making sure to remain as close to him as possible. your foreheads and noses were still touching as your lips remained just an few inches away where you were trying to catch your breath. your eyes were closed blissfully, and bucky dared to flutter his open.

there you were, the subject of all of his daydreams in the past few months, so close to him. he could feel your warm breath on his face. when you leaned in to kiss him again, you did so with even more fervor. you gasped into his mouth so wonderfully that he stumbled backwards a couple steps, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip so that your mouth would stay open and he could continue kissing you even deeper.

“bucky,” you whispered hoarsely as you pulled away for a second time. “bucky, i-”

“keep it in your pants, barnes!” tony’s voice bellowed from the party, and bucky burned red. you wiggled a bit in his hold and he took it as a sign to set you back on the ground. once you were standing, you shook your hands fiercely, letting out all the tension.

“wow,” you breathed, a satisfied, wonderstruck smile blooming on the lips buky had just kissed.

“wow is pretty accurate,” bucky agreed equally as breathless.

when you two captured each other’s eyes again, bucky reached down to cup your jaw and run his thumb over your cheek.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he muttered, smiling fondly as you leaned into his touch and covered your hand with his own.

“i could say the same about you.” you turned your head so that your lips were in the palm of your hand and pressed a chaste kiss to his skin. he was glad he hadn’t reached out with his metal hand. he didn’t want to miss out on feeling every kiss you blessed him with. 

“we should go back.” you watched as clint’s kids and tony’s daughter began pleading to cut the cake whilst steve insisted that they wait for the two of you to return.

“we should,” bucky nodded.

neither of you spoke or made any effort to move. instead, you stood on your toes to press one final kiss to the corner of bucky’s mouth and whispered “you don’t even have my phone number.”

he laughed. “doesn’t matter. i’ll just come bother you at the bookstore.”

you bit your lip to stop the beam that was sure to explode across your face and agitate your sore cheeks, so you tilted your head towards the party.

“we should definitely go back. the cake, and stuff. and maybe if i decide that i really like you, i’ll give you my number at the end of the party. so don’t get too comfortable.”

“it’s a deal, doll.”

--

you were perched on one of bucky’s thighs, horizontal to his chest, as the two of you dug into new reads. just like steve, bucky had decided to catch up on the classics (mostly because it meant he could watch your face light up as you chattered on about your favorites and what they meant and tried to convince him to read them, even though he knew he’d read anything you gave him anyway). thus began your sunday ritual of domesticity. bucky knew sunday was your only day off, so the first sunday after steve’s birthday, he had planned to make the most of it.

he took the train to brooklyn (he loved liked you even more for that) and picked you up at 10. he’d brought you to one of the coffee shops that’d been running since the 40s, which you doted on; “it’s so classic! i love mrs. basque—she gets me, you know? hates the gentrification too; she’s so progressive.” he teased you when he found out you (used to) hate “old people.”

“what a change of heart, huh? first your boss wins you over, then you fall for an 106 year old, and now you seem to like mrs. basque more than me.”

“well, if you keep making fun of me, maybe i will start liking mrs. basque more than you.”

bucky had dropped to his knees right outside of the store, begging you to forgive him as the two of you struggled to hold in obnoxiously loud laughs for the sakes of the people around you.

bucky had taken you up to the compound and cooked you a plant based meal and even ate it himself, which was when you realized how deeply you felt for him. he showed you wanda’s garden, helped you safely fly with sam, and then brought you to see steve’s book collection. but the best thing he’d done was present you with a book. it was a limited edition copy of herland, the book you’d been raving about ever since you’d convinced bucky to read the yellow wallpaper. he’d devoured your collection of feminist literature soon after and you fell a little more.

and now, curled up against the chest of the man you loved adored, you were struck by your second revelation of just how far you’d fallen. you watched as his blue eyes, almost as blindingly bright as his smile, danced across the pages of the newest novel you’d given to him. you watched as the sunlight streaming from the window made his eyelashes glow golden, and how his fingers tapped on the cover of the book absentmindedly. you knew he truly cared about the book when he let you be mesmerized by him instead of looking away, embarrassed. and he knew you truly cared about him when he took the time to read through your little annotations and add some of his own.

you shifted, wrapping your arms around his broad chest and nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. he hummed contetedly, using two fingers to hold the book open so that he could free up one of his hands to rub your back with.

from within the blanket of security his body provided you, you allowed yourself to confront your feelings. he’d confessed to you two weeks ago that the only reason he’d kept coming back for books was because he wanted to see you again. technically, he had a “reason” to, but he was the one coming up with them. the book on Hun empire archery was for clint, who didn’t really want the book in the first place, and when he came back the third time, he did so with the intention to ask you on a date. when he chickened out, he thought that’d be the last time he’d see you. instead, he ended up buying two more books—not because he was particularly interested in the classics, but because he’d asked you for your recommendations and you had said don quixote. he picked up alice in wonderland mainly as a joke, but ended up reading it (and loving it) just because it was you who sold him the book.

and then you learned he’d been keeping each one of your bookmarks, treasuring them as if they truly were picasso-level art, and you’d planted the biggest kiss on his cheek. and then you’d learned he never learned how to cook and taught himself just so he could make food for you, and you threw yourself into his arms. and then you had met alpine, and discovered that bucky would read aloud to his cat every night.

and then—well, just now, you cursed yourself out in your head. holy fucking shit i’m such a dumbass, aren’t i? i’m in love with this man. i’m in love with bucky. i. love. bucky.

you didn’t even hesitate when you lifted your head from his shoulder and pecked his cheek to catch his attention. when he closed his book, making sure your bookmark was properly secured before closing it, your breath was shaky.

“i love you, bucky. i’m so in love with you it’s stupid. i love you.”

bucky was silent for just a second before pulling you into the tightest hug. “i love you too,” he whispered into your hair, voice wet with emotion. “i’ve loved you for so long,” he confessed, pulling away and keeping his hands on your shoulders as if he wanted to be assured that you’d never leave.

“i hated everything you loved, at first. reading. vegetables. being so happy, all the time. but you made me love it all. and i must be the biggest fool for taking so long to figure this out, but the reason i’ve changed isn’t because i’ve learned to love all those things. it’s because i learned to love you. and i’d stop eating beef for you, sweetheard. i’d eat cauliflower burgers for the rest of my life if it means i get to love you.”

you backhanded his cheek softly. “you stupid, stupid boy,” you sniffed. “i hate you. god, i hate that you do this to me.” you were blinking back tears. “you’re making me fucking cry. i hate the power you have over me.” you didn’t. the both of you knew that you didn’t.

leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. it was a shitty kiss where your big smiles stopped you from actually doing much kissing, but the “shittiness” of it all was what made it charming. and no amount of bad customer service of ineffective advertisting could convince you or bucky otherwise.

＊✿❀　❀✿＊

main masterlist

taglist: (comment to be added!)

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x librarian! reader #librarian au #bookstore au #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

[callofdudes]

Fantasy Into Reality

Alejandro x Rudy (librarian au)

Suggested by Annoymous ps:(I'm sorry)

PLEASE READ!! Soo... I'm a dumbass and answered the post in my inbox without actually putting the fucking writing in, and then I hit delete instead of edit!!? I'M SO SORRY! 😭

Please come back so I can fix this-

No CW, it's purely fluff, first meeting.

Word Count: 1.3K roughly

There was something so beautiful about the rows of shelves inside the small building. Each spine read of something more. Some were thicker than the first. The smell of paperback and hardcover tickled Rodolfo's senses with something almost tangible.

A smile replaced his usually minute features as he stacked books along the rows and rows of title and author coordinated writings. People moved about the background, some reading while others played quietly. It always made him feel at home.

He placed the last book on the cart atop the shelf in the fantasy section with a happy hum. It was nice to see a cart empty, ready for books to be reread and retold.

He left the empty trolly where it was for the time being and began to make his way up to the front of the library. There was only him and another co-worker in for the afternoon, so he busied himself as work came.

The sliding doors of the library opened and a few people walked inside. They seemed happy to be there, walking over to their section of the pickup line to find the books on hold that had come in for them.

Rodolfo was never the best at conversation. In fact, he liked the library simply because there wasn't much talking involved.

The doors opened again, this time only one guy came in. Rodolfo didn't pay much mind as he went back to picking up books along the front seating area to put back.

He was just about to pick up the last book when he heard a voice from behind him. "Excuse me?" His spine tingled at the words. Rough and deep. Very kind and soft, not a hint of a threat behind them.

Rudy stood and turned around to be met with a very handsome face. His short black hair was pushed back messily, a few strands falling across his face. His beard was shaved, reminisce of stubble and a toothy smile.

Rodolfo gulped.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"Oh good, you work here." The man chuckled in a joking tone." His smile widened and Rudy swore he felt his heart skip. Just his imagination.

"I'm new here, was wondering if you could point me toward the historical section?"

Rodolfo blinked. He felt his tongue go silent of any and all syllables. He briefly looked down at the books in his hands, and noticed they were 18th century history books. "Oh... Yes, I'm headed that way if - if you'd like to follow?" Curse you Rodolfo for stuttering. He scolded himself. But the man only smiled and nodded. "Of course hermano, lead the way."

Rudy felt his stomach tingling as he turned to walk away. The man kept pace with him as they walked down the long rows of bookshelves. "By the way, my name is Alejandro Vargas, you?"

Again, Rudy wasn't the best at social circumstances. But he was far from rude. "Rodolfo Parra."

Alejandro hummed. He nodded, as if this information benefited him. In a way I guess it did.

They walked together until they reached the historical literature section. "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" Rudy asked as he started to look for titles and authors. The books in his arms felt heavy as he read through letters.

He heard Alejandro behind him drifting through books. "Nothing in particular, I enjoy the genre. It is a useful make of my time si?"

"Si." Rodolfo found the first book and tucked it neatly in its place.

"what kind of books are you into? If I make ask?"

Rudy hummed. "Oh, I like fantasy, sci-fi and such. I like the way the author's can see these crazy and beautiful worlds in their minds."

Alejandro smiled, this time his lips were closed and it seemed to be out of contentment than happiness. "The mind is a beautiful thing."

Alejandro pulled a particular book off the shelf and looked it over. "Have you read this one?"

Rudy stopped stocking the books and came to Alejandro's side. "Schematics for old builds. Lore on the Germans and models for the first airplane of I remember correctly."

"you remember quite a lot."

This time Rudy smiled. "I enjoy books, what can I say?" Alejandro pulled another book off the shelves and looked at the cover briefly to read the title. "And this one?"

"Russian revolution and the war against Britain." Rudy answered quickly.

Alejandro tucked both books under his arm and chuckled. "Don't mind if I do. If you're pulling my leg I'll know." Alejandro chuckled with that same almost evil smile. Rudy blushed. He felt his stomach coil again, this time it was accompanied by heat in his chest. He looked down at the last book in his hands. It was fantasy. Alejandro seemed to notice and said, "I can walk with you if you don't mind?"

"if you'd like?"

Normally Rodolfo would say no, but the fuzzy feeling in his stomach was making his head do weird things. So he set off for the fantasy with Alejandro in tow.

The taller man took in what little there was to see until they reached the section. Rodolfo immediately found the section the book was missing from and reached up to place it there.

Alejandro skimmed through the spines of the books. The titles were interesting. So he pulled one out. Rodolfo noticed from the corner of his eye and all sense of shame was lost.

"Oh! That one! It's about a vampire born into a world where the sun has disappeared and these weird zombie things are after them!"

Alejandro chuckled. "You've read this one eh?"

"Si! I've read almost this entire section." Rodolfo smiled proudly. Alejandro placed the book back and skimmed over the titles. He pulled one out and Rudy started off. He explained the lore, the characters and their back stories. It was a book he'd read recently and he'd very much enjoyed it. Everything down to plot details and such. He didn't even realize he was talking until he'd run out of things to say.

But Alejandro had just stood there and not once interrupted him.

"And- oh..." Rodolfo blushed. "Apologies, I was talking to much."

"Oh no, tu narración es magnífica." (Oh no, your storytelling is magnificent.) Alejandro looked down at his watch and nodded. "Well, Rodolfo Parra, this was wonderful, thank you."

"Oh." Rudy felt his cheeks grow hot.

Alejandro stepped closer and placed the fantasy book under his arm. "You're going to read it?"

"of course."

"but," Rodolfo blinked, "I just explained it all go you?"

"yes, it sounds like an excellent read." Alejandro chuckled at the baffled expression the poor librarian must have had. "I hope I'll see you around sometime? You can tell me about more of what this place holds eh?"

"I-oh, yeah sure!"

Alejandro nodded and reached out his hand, so Rudy took it and shook it. Once Alejandro left Rudy tipped to the edge of the isle and watched as the man checked out his books and left. Not before turning back go catch Rudy's eye before he could jump away in terror.

Rodolfo's heart was pounding as he covered his face. He waited for what felt like an eternity before coming out and seeing Alejandro no longer there.

He was surpised at how disappointed he was. He was glad returning these books were mandatory.

Little librarian Au thing for a first meeting. Again, I'm so sorry about the message, it's not the first time I've accidentally done that so I will watch what buttons I press. Hopefully you'll see this! 😅🥲 Pardon any spelling mistakes.

#alejandro x rodolfo #alejandro x rudy #writing #short prompt #librarian au #alerudy #rodolfo parra #alejandro vargas #I can't see guys thats my fault #i feel really bad #im just back on tumblr so im rusty #fluff #first meeting #ficlet

[writingwife-83]

Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 2: Librarian AU/Professor AU

Thanks for the feedback, peeps! Hope you guys enjoy the ficlet. And Idk why this is a 1940s setting. It just is I guess lol. ❤️ 📚

Falling for You (👈 ao3)

Sherlock flipped a page, then another, then another. He shoved that book aside, discarding it among many others in a growing pile, then picked up another one nearby. Taking a pencil from behind his ear, he scribbled a note or two on his pad of paper, humming quietly to himself. He was admittedly rather engrossed, and didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching. Not until she made her presence more than clear.

“Not again!”

Head tilting up from where he sat on the floor, Sherlock took in the sight of the university’s librarian, Miss Molly Hooper, and she was in rare form. Particularly because she was towering over him.

“Ah, Miss Hooper, good after-“

“Professor Holmes, I do hope you’re going to pick up that mess properly this time!” Her little arms crossed sternly over her middle.

Sherlock glanced at the pile of books strewn about all around him on the floor. “I’ve always picked up the books.”

Molly tilted her head. “Yes, but with no care whatsoever to the Dewey decimal system. Every time you come in here I end up with students unable to find what they’re looking for. And I find that you leave an absolute mess in whatever area you’ve been in. I’ve even found books turned backwards on the shelf!”

Sherlock stood with a little grunt, straightening his suit jacket. “Well, I suppose sometimes I am in a bit of a rush. Lesson planning, and all that. Chemistry class won’t teach itself, you know.” Pausing, he gave her a once over. “Why, Miss Hooper, what a smart looking hairstyle that is. You’ve had it trimmed a bit, haven’t you? And freshly curled?” He threw in a little wink.

Molly’s cheeks flushed pink, but she kept her lips trained in a tight line and tilted her chin up sternly. “I have, though it’s certainly no concern of yours. Now, if you’re finished, I’d like to get these put away.”

When he made no protest, Molly began picking some of the books up and checking the bindings to set them in their places on the shelf. But when she tried to move around the pile on the floor though, she stepped on the edge of one of the books and her heel slipped out from under her.

The second she lost her balance, Sherlock’s arm instinctively looped around her waist, holding her steady while bracing them with his other hand against the bookshelf.

Molly stared back at him, wide eyed and panting, and it occurred to him that they were practically nose to nose.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered.

“For creating a death trap on the floor?”

She sputtered out a laugh, her eyes suddenly shimmering. “For catching me.”

“My pleasure.”

And it really was.

Sherlock realized that his grip around her waist had not loosened. In fact, with each passing second he was only becoming increasingly aware of how it felt to hold her so close. The way she fit so naturally against him…

“I think I’m alright now.”

Sherlock cleared his throat, remembering himself and releasing his hold while stepping back. “I’ll pick these up. Don’t trouble yourself.”

“If you insist.” Molly straightened her cardigan and smoothed some hair behind her ear. “But I’d better find them all in order.”

Sherlock gave her an unabashedly flirtatious smile. “If they’re not… you know where to find me.”

Molly held his gaze for a moment before turning and finally walking away oh so slowly, and Sherlock could have sworn that every click of her heels and sway of her hips was by very calculated design. He certainly couldn’t take his eyes off her until she rounded the corner and went back to her desk.

It took him no time at all to decide that a few of those books would simply have to be placed out of order after all.

#sherlolly #sherlollyweek2023 #librarian au #professor au #1940s au #cuz why not?

[chillychive]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martyn Littlewood | InTheLittleWood/Rendog, Martyn Littlewood | InTheLittleWood & Rendog Characters: Martyn Littlewood | InTheLittleWood, Rendog (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Tango Tek Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Library, written listening to aurora, treebark, librarian Martyn Littlewood | InTheLittleWood, dnd campaign, Ren as a DnD player, can be interpreted as romantic or platonic Summary:

Every week at precisely 2pm, Ren comes into the library where Martyn works. To say that Martyn is fascinated by this strange man with a love of the fantastical and mythical, and mannerisms that alternate between ancient English and not so ancient pirate, would not be inaccurate.

#martyn inthelittlewood #rendog #librarian au #librarian character #treebark #renchantyn #dogwarts #renchanting #dnd campaign fic #ren would 100% return books in terrible conditions #for the record

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 32

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: 👀

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You turn off the heater as you look one last time over the space. Everything's set away neatly as the falcon sits on oak leaves, its feathers carefully forged from the streaks of your brush. You're proud, you're so close to done and you've always struggled with following through. You'll be sure to tell Steve, you mean, Dr. Kemp at your next session.

Or tomorrow.

You catch yourself smiling at that thought. No, you shouldn't be so happy. He's your therapist. He's helping you. It's his job. But he said he's your friend, didn't he?

You close the garage door behind you and lock it. The TV blasts loudly from the front room and your mood quickly grays. You leave your slip-ons by the door and tiptoe towards the den. 

It's empty. Sports commentators sit around a desk talking about stats and numbers you don't understand. Andy isn't there. Only the empty beer bottles across the coffee table.

You go into the kitchen but don't find him there either. Is he upset? Maybe he went to bed.

You turn off the television and shut off the lights before you head upstairs. You pad up slowly, dragging your hand on the railing as you yawn. You'll make it up by cooking breakfast. For now, you just want to sleep. You hope some cuddling can placate him.

As you turn down the hall, you notice his room is open and the lights are off. Yet the door closer to you, the guest room where you used to sleep, is lit up. You near, your chest dropping as you hear the flutter of pages. 

You peek around the door frame and your lip trembles. He's not supposed to do that! Dr. Kemp said he can't do that.

You watch Andy as he holds your journal, scowling as he sits on the side of the bed. His shoulders slump unevenly as he curls his lips at the pages. He shakes his head and grumbles as he reads.

"Andy," you step into the doorway, "hey, that's mine."

You stomp towards him, your anger overriding any fear. You grab for the journal as he looks up at you, blue eyes cloudy and brow furrowed. He holds the book out of reach as he stands. You back-up as he towers over you.

"Is this yours too?" He shows the vibrator in his other hand, "hmmm," he slurs slightly as he looks down at the pages again, "'Dr. Kemp gave me a gift. I don't know if I should open it though. I don't know what to do with it…'" he curls a finger around the slender bullet toy and flips through the pages, reading more, "'Today Dr. Kemp taught me how to use the toy and relax. It felt good but it's hard to focus.'" He stops and swallows, "I tried but I couldn't think of Andy. It felt wrong."

He snaps shut your journal and flings it just past you, the force gusting against your side as you flinch. You whimper and back away. He was never meant to see that. Those are your personal thoughts. 

"Andy, that's my journal–"

"What? You still don't love me?" He lumbers forward, slightly off kilter, "you'd rather–" he shows the toy and clicks the button, "a piece of plastic!?"

"No, no, it wasn't… it's to help me so… so I know what to do. Dr. Kemp–"

"He gave you this. He gave you this and you didn't tell me," his voice grows louder and louder as you shrink smaller and smaller, "you won't even let me try to make you feel good."

He shakes his head, as if trying to escape some unseen veil. He whips the toy away from him, leaving a dent on the wall as the buzz stops and it bounces onto the floor. You fold your hands against your chest and retreat step by step.

"I'm scared, Andy," you sniffle. 

"And I'm hurt," he snarls and lunges for you.

You yipe and beat against his chest as he clutches your arms. He squeezes so tight you cry out. He's so strong you can't resist him. You push on his stomach, trying to wriggle free as he teeters around with you trapped.

"Andy, please, please, I never--I didn't mean anything. I was only… I was trying to be better. Like you want me to. Please, please," you put your hands on his thick arms, the strength cording in his biceps, "don't hurt me. Please. Please, I'll be better, I'll be better."

He stills, keeping his grip above your elbows. His long lashes flick and he scowls down at you, "you think I would hurt you. After everything I've done. You think I would…" his eyes glisten and he turns to grit his jaw at the wall. "You don't love me."

"No, Andy, I love you, I do," you babble. Just say what he wants. That's all you can do, "I do, please…"

"Then why are you so fucking scared?" He turns to you and grabs your chin, bending to look you in the eye. You squirm and grasp his wrist, on your toes as he nearly chokes you. "I've waited… I've been nice…" 

He turns with you almost dangling from his hold. Your feet drag on the floor as you stumble. You whine as he walks you back. You're dizzy with his force and the way he moves you so easily.

"Please," you croak.

"You wanna see what a real man is like," he shoves you so you hit the foot of the bed and land on your back, "not some stupid fucking toy."

He puts his hand to the front of his jeans and you gulp. Your heart pounds like thunder, vision flashing like lightning as the storm of horror consumes you. You push yourself up as he fumbles with his zipper.

"Andy, let's go to bed–"

"Shut up," he barks and pushes you back down.

You bite your tongue as you fall heavy again. You push yourself up onto the mattress, dragging yourself backwards away from him. He leaves his jeans open as he advances on you, staggering as he jostles the bed, climbing up on his knees.

He reaches for you and you turn, crawling away frantically, desperate to get to the edge. He grabs your waist and hauls you back, collapsing his weight on you. You writhe, clawing at the covers as they slip down from the bed.

You're stuck pinned beneath him as he breathes into your scalp. He smells like beer and spit. He suffocates you to a panic, the walls closing in and a fiery heat scalding across your flesh.

"And-dy," you whimper as he hooks his arm around your neck, forcing your head up as your arms flail across the bed, "Andy….please…"

"Shhh, baby, it's okay," he nuzzles your crown, "you wanna feel good. I'm gonna make you feel good. Huh?" He tightens his arm so his bicep presses against your throat, "or did you lie about that too?"

"N-no, please, it hurts," you sob.

"It won't hurt if you stop," he bends his arm until you can't breathe, jutting his chin against your skull, "stop fucking moving."

You freeze. His timbre alone is a threat. He puffs, the alcoholic taint curdling in your nose as he brings his other arm between you.

As he keeps his arm under your neck, he forces you to arch your spine, his nails scratching your lower back as he grips the back of your pants. You close your eyes as you quiver. You feel your chest tearing apart, your nerves pinging wildly, your entire being falling to pieces.

Love, love, they all say love before they hurt you.

He rips down the back of your jeans and growls. The force of it jerks your limp body. You try not to think as his hot breath slips down the side of your face.

He rolls the denim down, quickly tugging down your panties and baring your ass. You squeak as your naked flesh rubs against the vee of his open zipper. He pulls his hand away, leaning on one knee as he lifts his pelvis, feeling between your bodies.

He grunts and shifts, further bouncing the bed under you. He plants both knees and snakes his arm beneath you, keeping his other at your throat. He wiggles as he feels along your pelvis, nudging your legs as far apart as they can go against the denim.

He dips his hips down as you feel his tip along the curve of your ass. Your heart drums behind your ears, drowning out his raspy groans as his fingers frame your cunt and part your lips. You clench, bracing the bed as salty tears slip free and stain the blanket beneath. 

He catches his tip between his knuckles and jerks. He slides to your entrance and prods, tilting awkwardly until he can line up. He pushes, straining you dryly. He bucks, trying to force his way in and you shriek.

He grunts and tries again, the chafe sparking a fire inside of you. You reach back, grasping the slack fabric of his jeans as you keep your other hand fisted around the blanket. He thrusts again, grinding in another inch as you exclaim.

You babble and bawl as he rocks. You feel his frustration at the resistance of your body. You try to let him in, try not to feel and just let it happen. 

As he splits you, burying himself deep, you let out a horrid cry. Your head dangles over his forearm as you sob against the bedding and he puffs into the crook of your neck. He eases back slowly before sinking in again. Your squirming does little to deter him.

His nose tickles your temple and he bows down to kiss your cheek as he begins a tempo. Long, slow, and torturous. Each dip inside is worse than the last. 

"Baby, doesn't that feel good? Don't I feel good? Hmm, better than the toy?" He kisses your cheek again, "you feel good on me."

You gulp and choke on the eruption of tears. His groans and growls seep into you, his body rumbling with the delight he takes in your destruction. Your terror fades to disbelief and the well dries up, leaving you silent and staring.

"Tell me, honey, tell me I feel good. Tell me it's better." His hand creeps up to grope your chest as he pumps into you.

You shudder and turn your face down. You hide in the darkness of your eyelids. Your body is racked in agony and repulsion.

"Yes…" you utter as his arm loosens around your neck, "yes, it's…" you squeal as he ruts too hard, "good!"

"Mmmm, yeah, baby, this is what you want. You're just too afraid… this is what we need. Both of us…" he sighs as he fucks you into the bed.

He flattens you against the mattress as his pelvis claps against you. He keeps you arched awkwardly as he rams into you over and over. The tension tautens his muscles and he drops his head down to nibble at your ear.

This isn't happening. It isn't happening. It can't be. It can't. 

You repeat your denial over and over. Trying to convince yourself that this isn't real. That you can't feel a thing. 

You're not in your body. You're somewhere else. You're not there. Even if you are, it won't last forever. It will end and you'll be left to wallow.

Alone. Amber isn't coming to comfort you now.

🕊️

The world is foggy. You stare into nothing, your surroundings nothing more than shadows. You're in a void. You never want to think or feel again.

You won't cry. Not anymore. You have nothing left.

A footstep makes you wince. You can hear… him. You roll onto your side and whimper. You hurt everywhere.

You smell him on the pillow and the blankets. You reek of him. You realise then you're not in the same bed, you're in his.

His voice drones indiscernible outside the room as you hide beneath the duvet. His tone brings you back, him cooing as he carries you down the hall, laying you down, undressing you, touching you all over. Doing that again.

You suck in your lower lip and fight the tide rolling under the surface. He gets closer, you can hear him more clearly even if you try not to. The door opens and his shadow looms against the wall. 

"Thanks for checking in. No, she's okay. We went out for breakfast," he explains as you feel his gaze through the layers between you, "something upset her stomach, she's laying down." A pause, the garbled response from the phone speaker, "I'll tell her you say hi. She should be fine in no time. Yep, okay, doc, thanks again."

He sighs as he hangs up. He puts the phone down heavily and nears the bed. You feel it dip by your feet as he climbs up, crawling up your body as he tugs at your only shield. He peels away the duvet, slipping beneath it as he once more smothers you beneath him. 

"Mmm, honey," he holds himself over you as he urges you flat on your back, "you're delicious…" he kisses along your shoulders and across your chest, "beautiful, you know that?" He purrs, the tip of his nose sending chills through you, "you're a bad girl, keeping all this from me…" he pinch your nipple with his teeth and you squeak, "will you be a good girl for me, dove?"

You nod frantically. Whatever it takes to make him stop touching you. You'll do whatever he wants if it means he'll leave you alone. Maybe not forever, but eventually.

"Good," he kisses along your stomach, "that's all I ever wanted… to be good to you. To be good for you."

Your muscles tie and you lock your hands in fists. He descends your body inch by inch. You roll your eyes back, drifting into oblivion.

It's not forever. Nothing is.

#don't speak #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #defending jacob #librarian au #fresh #steve kemp

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Among the Stacks

Nearly a year after Aziraphale returns to Heaven, he vanishes from existence, leaving Crowley bereft on Earth. Just when the demon has finally started to heal and move on with his life, he finds his angel by chance in a library. But Aziraphale has no memory of his life as an angel, or of Crowley. How will our hero cope?

Length: 65,227 words

AO3 Rating: Not Rated / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly safe in public, memory loss, romance

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by MeinirRhos

*Minor Spoilers* I know I say this about all the fics, but I love this one. This is a story where Aziraphale has lost his memories and has become human. I've read a handful of this trope (genre?) now and I love how unique they all are. One of the best elements here is the way it talks about grief and Crowley's mourning. You feel it, and it breaks your heart, it's a widow's grief. But it's not a bummer of a fic. It's not fluffy, but it's not too heavy and depressing. It finds an excellent balance. The love story between Crowley and Azariah is gentle and warm. I love Azariah, he gets to be his own person with his own agency. Loved for who he is, not just because he's Aziraphale. Obviously, they move fast in their relationship, but I love how they get to date. To have very domestic moments, fall in love all over again. It both warms my heart for Crowley to have this, and makes me want to sob. The plot progresses very well, and ends in a way that's satisfying and unexpected.

Most of it is safe in public. There are a couple chapters of explicit content, but they are made to be able to skip if you'd prefer. And those chapters are not softcore, so unless you want a full body blush, read those bits at home. Final note, this fic gets an extra 6000 points because of perfect baby boy Tug the cat. I'm literally on my knees begging yall to put more cats in good omens fics.

Read it here, fic by MeinirRhos

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable idiots #human au #memory loss #medium #librarian au #four flames #Among the stacks #faves of the blog #mostly safe in public #canon au

[naya-art]

"How can I help you? Recommend a good book?"

POV: you looked into your local library and found there a cute librarian named Jonathan

#my art #jjba #jojo kimyou na bouken #jojo bizarre adventure #jonathan joestar #librarian au

[effulgent-girl]

JB Week 2022 - The Elements - Earth (stability, patience, warmth, comfort)

Sculptor AU

Lion Conservation AU

Librarian AU

Therapist AU

Summer Love AU

#jaime x brienne #jb week #elements #sculptor au #lion conservation au #librarian au #therapist au #summer love au #earth #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #graphic #effulgentgirl #gotedit #story ideas

[minisugakoobies]

Which is your favorite librarian?

Luce! How could I possibly pick? They're so different!

Hyunjin is the librarian at the museum of art where you like to spend your Saturdays, seeking inspiration for your stories. Any time you have a question about a piece, you head straight for him. He seems to know nearly everything about every exhibit, and what he doesn't know, he finds for you, combing through the shelves to find the exact book you need. He's a chatterbox, clearly in love with the art surrounding him and dying to talk about it all with anyone interested.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is more the quiet type. He mans the reference desk at the local library where you spend your Sundays, fervently writing your stories. When you go to him for help locating a book for your research, he doesn't pry into what you need the info for, just silently hands you the dewey decimal numbers that will lead you to what you need. However, he must note the subjects you're interested in, since he's known to appear by your table later with another book in hand. "Thought maybe you'd like this one," he'd say with a soft smile. And every time, he's right. 💕

(Will I ever finish my poor Librarian!JK WIP? We'll see)

#hyunjin #jeon jungkook #librarian au #lovely moots #minttangerines #asks