Stuart Twombly x reader

8

The library, once your comfortable safe haven, becomes tainted when you look up from the computer, frowning as you hit the keys repeatedly to try and get the new order forms up, and you see Stuart lingering around the science section, looking from his phone to the books on the shelves, seemingly confused.

You groan to yourself and focus on tapping the keyboard, clicking on the order form with relief and smile gleefully. A tap on your shoulder makes you jump and you turn to see Harry staring down on you with a bored expression.

"Are you going to finish with that yet?" he asks in a monotone. You nod and jump out of the seat, stepping up to the desk with uncertainty of what to do. To your immense displeasure, Stuart breaks apart from the shelves and makes his way towards you, book in hand.

When he approaches you, he drops the book on the table without breaking eye contact, his expression pained, as if he has had nails pushed under his fingernails.

"Neha told me to get this out for her," he explains as you scan the barcode, tongue in cheek.

"Why couldn't she do it herself?" you ask back with a tinge of venom, stamping the sheet on the inside cover with more vigour than necessary. Stuart doesn't reply and instead looks around the desk, his eyes skimming over Harry sighing at the computer and the small pile of books you were planning to have a quick read of in the corner.

"So, this is what you do all day? Putting some ink in books?" he smirks, eyes glittering with something malicious. You shove the book back into his arms and dangle the stamp between your fingertips.

"It's not about that. It's about showing people to their books, guiding them to something that will touch them..." You remember all the times you had discovered many of the novels you dearly hold close to your heart, the emotions they created, and Stuart snorts.

"The only books these people want is science. Non-fiction. Something to help their brain, not their 'heart'." The smirk slaps his face again. "How does it feel to have your idea of your perfect job crushed?"

"I'm pleased you're concerned," you reply sarcastically, and you're tapped by familiar, blunt fingertips again.

"Y/n, you need to empty out the returned trolley," Harry says in his low, emotionless voice, and you put down the stamp, twitching your hips as you slip past the desk and grab the trolley. To your dismay, Stuart follows casually, taking purposeful steps behind you and standing too close to your liking.

"Oh, so now it's pushing trolleys. How fun. You know, I could recommend jobs like this to people with low IQs. Maybe that way they'll think they are really contributing to society when actually, it's just a pat on the metaphorical back of their ego," Stuart drawls, following you around the library.

You snap your head towards him. "Are you finished? Or can I do what I'm being paid for in peace?"

"You get paid for this crap?"

"Stuart."

"At least you can spend it on some nice binders for your cute little literature shit at college."

You stop pushing the trolley, folding your arms tight around yourself like a barrier, fighting the violent urge. Your voice shakes as you try to keep it at a whisper. "Studying literature is not less smart than all the stuff you do, okay? I am not more stupid than you are, so will you just stop following that urge to tell me your opinion?"

Stuart's hands tighten on Neha's book, knuckles whitening, and he says with a humourless smile, "Fine. I won't bother you anymore. Okay? No need to worry about nasty Stuart making you cry into Twilight or anything."

You watch him walk out, faster than you would have thought, and shake your head to yourself, once again finding yourself blocking out his words and focusing on putting books back onto the shelves with an unhappy sliver in your mind.