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gweasleycore · 3 years

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i just wanna be yours stu macher drabble

word count: 1k warnings: knifes a/n: this is different from what i normally post on here but i’ve been really inspired to write for scream lately so i’ve decided to post that and harry potter stuff. hope you all like this, i’ve got plans for a couple of full fics so we’ll see how it goes

“Hey Stu.” you smiled and leaned against his kitchen door frame, watching him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Oh hey Yn, I didn’t realize anyone was still here.” his eyebrows were raised as he observed you. You and your group of friends had been over hanging out at his house. It was a routine for your little group of six to spend as much time as you could at the Macher house; I.E. whenever Mr. & Mrs. Macher weren’t home.

“Yeah, it's just me. Tatum and Sid caught a ride with Randy but things are still weird with us so… I hung back.” you spoke nonchalantly about it, but Stu knew you were more upset than you let on. You and Randy had always been close friends, next door neighbors since childhood, it only made sense that he’d have a thing for you. But he didn’t have to get so butthurt when you politely turned him down, “I had a question for you anyways.”

“Oh yeah, what’s up?” Stu smirked to himself at your tone. You were a bit hard to predict at times. Like him you liked to shamelessly flirt and you were fucking good at it too. But then sometimes you would drop it in an instant and completely shock whoever you were talking to. Stu had learned to be cautious of you.

“I was just wonderin’,” you leaned forward on the counter in front of him, trailing your finger up the handle of the knife on the counter as you started spinning it around, “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Why would you ask me that?” his eyes darkened but you didn’t notice, or rather you thought it was for other reasons. You smiled, thinking your plan had worked and started backing towards the door with the knife in hand.

“Why? You worried I’m gonna knife ya?” you let out a shocked squeal that turned into a giggle when Stu pushed off from the counter, beginning to run after you. He chased you around the halls of his house before you let him pin you to his couch. You were still smiling when he took the knife from you and pointed it at your throat, you’d always felt like Stu would be into some darker shit.

“Cut the shit, Yn. What do you know?” he said, forcing you into the couch further.

“Huh?” you mumbled, “What do you mean? I was just messin’ around. I.. Dewey told me, Tatum, and Sid some of the stuff they got from the reports lately. You think that stuff’s funny so I thought..”

“Oh shit..” He gripped your wrist with his free hand so tight the pain brought you to your senses. Your brows furrowed as you took in the situation. Knife to your throat and Stu’s dangerous gaze pinning you down just as tightly. “Fuck, man. You really shouldn’t have done that, Yn.”

“I- I don’t know what you mean Stu. I was just, I don’t know? I was trying to flirt with you. I’ve been into you for a while now and I know your humor’s kind of dark so I just,” you weren’t even lying, it was humiliating but it was the truth. You didn’t know if it would matter but you really didn’t want to die so you hoped it would somehow.

“Fuck, Yn, I’m into you too. I don’t wanna kill you but I don’t really have a choice now.” he said, the knife digging into your throat. It wasn’t enough yet to break the skin but it was enough to hurt, you knew if you moved you’d end up cutting yourself.

“You do, Stu, you don’t have to kill me. I won’t tell anyone I promise.” you begged. You could feel the tears brimming your eyes, you were trying not to cry. Fuck if this is how you died, you hadn’t even gotten to sleep with Stu yet and here you were about to die!

“If I don’t kill ya Billy’s gonna and I just can’t have that, Baby.” he shook his head frantically like he was trying to get the images of anyone else but him killing you out of his mind. You were his, his to have, to hold and his to kill if he had to.

“B-billy doesn’t have to know!” you gripped at his hand on the knife, watching him consider your suggestion. Maybe you could work with this, maybe you could live “Yeah, we can- we can just keep it between us right? No one- no one else has to know about this.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” the pressure of the knife against your throat had let up just slightly, his hand around your wrist twitching like he wanted to let go or hold you in a different way.

“I promise you can. I’ll do anything Stu, anything. You call the shots.” you swore, “I just want you.”

His breath hitched in his throat at your confession, the knife falling onto the floor beside you though he still kept you trapped underneath him. Stu leaned down and kissed you, his hand going to the back of your neck to bring you as close to him as possible. You felt a million emotions wash over you during that kiss. You had to grip onto his shirt to anchor yourself, otherwise you were sure you would’ve poofed away in some magical spark of dust.

“If you say anything to anyone, I’ll have to kill ya, yn. I really don’t want to. Please don’t give me any reason to have to, okay? Promise me?”

“I promise you Stu, you can trust me.” and you were telling the truth. You didn’t know what his plans were, you didn’t know what all he’d done. Truthfully you didn’t care. Stu could’ve murdered you that night and you would’ve forgiven him, or better yet blamed yourself for accidentally finding out.

So that's how you got roped into the Woodsboro massacre. By being hopelessly and stupidly in love with Stu Macher.

#stu macher #scream 1996 #scream #stu macher x reader #stu macher x y/n #scream fanfiction #drabble #stu macher drabble #billy loomis #ghostface

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gweasleycore · 3 years

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dealbreaker [Sirius Black x reader]

word count: 4k

summary: you work in a bookstore. sirius keeps finding reasons to need books.

“What you’re reading now made you seem pleased enough,” he teased. “Maybe something else.” “Let me read it, I’ll take notes.” The way he said it had you pushing your thighs together as tightly as they could go.

tags: marauders era, fluff, flirting lol, reader works at a bookstore, getting together, james is a good friend (and a bastard), fem reader

requested by anon here

There was a ridiculously handsome guy in the bookstore.

You pulled your makeup bag out as casually as you were able, rifling through it for your mirror compact. The reflection that stared back at you looked decent, for once - the bookstore was always quiet during late February, school supplies and Christmas presents were already out of the way, and as a result you looked more rested than usual.

You used the pad of your fingertip to rub away the dark smudges of mascara under your eyes and smooth down your flyaways. Not a bad hair day.

You felt silly. It wasn’t as if someone as attractive as him was about to waste his time on a checkout girl at the bookstore. Still, when he finally made his way to the front desk, book in hand, you put on your friendliest smile.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, voice soft to match the dim light of the shop.

“Hi,” he said. God, even his voice was handsome, bright and smooth.

“Is this all I can help you with?”

This is where he gave pause. “Well-“ he placed the book down between you both so that you could see the title, “if I can ask, do you think this is the type of thing a guy my age would like?”

You studied the cover thoughtfully, looking between it and him with slow blinks.

He tilted his head.

“If you tell me what you usually like to read, I can be of more help.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” he smiled at you. “A friend.”

“Right,” you laughed awkwardly.

“He likes most everything,” he supplied.

You flipped the cover open to the first page, a list of reviews from other authors. You turned the book so that he could see it, trailing your finger under one of the review’s title.

“This one here. I read her novel, ‘Heaven’, not too long ago. It made me sad for a long time.”

“And that’s - bad?” He sounded genuinely interested in your answer.

You shook your head as though shaking water from inside your ear. “I think the way that it could even make me sad in the first place meant it was a good book. But I’m not sure, your friend might not think so.”

“And ‘Heaven’, you have that here?”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry. Not until next week.”

“I’ll come back,” he said firmly. He’d pushed his hair out of his face, revealing his lovely, soft cheekbones.

“Alright,” you said. It came out wrong.

That should’ve been the end of the conversation, but he hesitated to move, and then said, “Is it busy here?”

You smiled, pleased. Not many customers spent time talking to you beyond a simple thank you.

“It can be. Especially in the month before school starts. The day before, even.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine. I was always running around like a twat the day before term started.”

A startled laugh burst out of you and you covered your mouth with your hand. “Me too. I was never the organised sort.”

“You look plenty organised now.”

“Do I?”

“Oh, very much so.” He waved a hand at the tower of books you’d created earlier in the week that decorated the side of the counter. “A masterpiece such as this would never come about by someone who didn’t have sufficient organisational skills.”

You grinned, “Quite right. Complicated thing, stacking.”

“Yes, I’d think so.”

Your laughter petered out. He cleared his throat.

“Right then. I’ll be back next week,” he said.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Bye, love.”

“Bye,” you said, kicking the toe of your shoe against the desk, wondering how to spend the next few hours.

Truth be told, you’d almost forgot about the handsome customer the next time you saw him. Life was busy and lonely and loud, there were clothes to be washed and dishes to be done and stock to be counted.

You thought of him when the new shipment of books arrived for March. Had he found a gift for his friend? You set aside a copy of Heaven for him with a sticky note on top that said your name so a coworker knew who wanted it.

When he appeared the next time he was accompanied by a man with dark brown hair. You were in the storeroom, writing down figures, piling restocks onto your metal book cart.

Your coworker burst in. You raised an eyebrow.

“There’s a man here for you, asking about ‘Heaven’?” she said dubiously, raising her eyebrows at you.

“It’s a book,” you said.

“Sure, sweetie, sure it is.”

You rolled your eyes, dragging the cart behind you. You left it where it was when you saw him, making your way to the front counter. You pulled the copy of Heaven from your cubby. His friend had wandered off into the non-fiction section, leaving him standing by himself. He glanced at the counter and smiled when he saw you walking towards him.

“For you,” you said, offering him the book.

He turned it over in his hands. It wasn’t the most exciting looking book, and perhaps the story itself wasn’t exciting either. All you knew was that it was a damn good book.

“Do you think your friend will like it?”

He seemed surprised that you’d even remembered the book at all, smiling gratefully at your question. “I think he will.”

“Is it the one pretending not to be watching us right now?”

He looked over his shoulder with the essence of a regal man. The friend almost toppled over himself in his rush to move from sight. The handsome guy sighed through his nose. “No, not that dolt. Please ignore him.”

You laughed, a quiet thing.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked him, fully expecting him to say no.

“Actually,” he started, shoving his free hand deep in his pocket. “My friend over there is expecting. Do you have any books on pregnancy?”

You beamed. “Wow, congratulations for your friend. You can follow me down here and we’ll see what we find.”

You led him to the parenting section. It was a decent sized bookstore with a good selection of books, so finding something worthwhile was easy as pie. You searched the spines, running your hand across them until you found an old classic.

“‘Baby and Child’ by Penelope Leach,” you read to him. “Lots of mother’s come in for this one.”

You pulled it from the shelf.

“Any friend of the family’s for it?” he asked, eyes scanning the front.

“You’d be the first. It’s nice that you care so much.”

“Well, I’m his godfather. Or I will be, when he’s born,” he corrected himself in a hurry.

He was much too attractive to be stumbling over words talking to you. He was the kind of guy you’d expect to see in Teen Vogue, or in the transatlantic films they played in the local cinema. Not the kind of boy to waste time asking you about baby books and buying thoughtful gifts.

“Can I help you with anything else?” you asked, straightening your skirt out.

“Oh - no. No, that’s great. Thanks so much…?” his voice lifted up at the end.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he smiled to himself. “Thanks for your help.”

“You're welcome,” you nodded, ducking away. You returned to your cart to finish putting the new stock away, watching your coworker checking out the handsome guy and his friend from the corner of your eye. You realised later that you hadn’t asked him his name in return.

The sunlight leaking in through the window was warming your face. Tired to begin with, you felt yourself close your eyes without thinking about it, face dropping where you held it in your hand.

It was still rather early in the year to expect any warm weather where you lived, so you savoured the heat. The pages of the book you’d been reading, hidden behind the till, were drifting shut around the fingers of your other hand. You were too tired to correct them.

The bell at the door jingled. It had been so peaceful that you flinched, straightening up on your stool.

It was the handsome guy from before. He drifted without preamble to the front desk. You hurried to look presentable, the first thought that ran through your head being, oh jesus h christ, he would come today. A day where you looked puffy and exhausted.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You did your best to contain a pleased smile. “I would say hi too, but I didn’t ask you your name last time.”

He leaned the palm of his hand on the counter between you, having to lean down just slightly to meet your eyes. “It’s Sirius.”

“Sirius,” you tested, the name sweet on your tongue. “Like the constellation.”

“Exactly like that,” he said. He was dressed smart as always, shirt rolled up to the elbows and slacks. You wondered what he did for work to dress the way he did.

“You need help?” you asked, closing your book.

He was watching your mouth. “I need a cookbook.”

“For yourself?”

“I’m hosting a dinner party,” he said. “Though ‘dinner party’ sounds awfully formal.”

“What kinda food do you want to make?”

He seemed reluctant to admit it, but he told you about how he was actually learning to cook for himself for the first time, and wanted to seem mildly put together at his house warming party. “Flat-warming party,” he corrected.

“You never cooked for yourself before?” you asked. He looked like he could be 20 years old, at least.

“I went to boarding school.”

“You did? Wow, what was that like?”

He grinned infectiously. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

You rounded the counter to lead him to the cookbook section. It was one of the biggest collections of books that you had, and he seemed appropriately daunted.

“There’s a few.”

You laughed agreeably. “I bet you saw some pretty good ones at school.”

“If you liked pickled newt and hogroast.”

“Private school, huh?”

He laughed, loud and startled, like it was the funniest thing anyone and ever said. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “Basically.”

“I don’t think we have anything like that…” you dug your fingertips into the soft skin at the base of your throat, thinking. “You like seafood? I use this one all the time,” you said, shuffling a few books to pull a familiar cookbook free.

“You have it at home?” he asked.

“I do. You think your dinner guests like prawn cocktail? That’s super fancy. Little cups of sauce, all that cool stuff. Oh my god, and crab! That would impress them, I bet.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Well, maybe. There’s pasta?” you suggested, waving your hand vaguely at the Italian stuff.

He shook his head, holding his hand out for the cookbook. “If I take this one, you’ll mark down your favourites?”

“Sure.”

One day your coworker was grinning so widely you felt as though she was about to tell you something scandalous. You looked at her apprehensively.

“What?”

“There was a dashing young man here yesterday. Tall, dark, handsome. Spent 20 minutes loitering by the front, and then left.”

You smiled despite yourself. “He did?”

Your coworker smirked, a shark smelling blood in the water. “Yes.”

“He didn’t say anything?”

“I told him you’d be in again tomorrow.”

You gasped. “You didn’t!”

“He had that book you liked; I thought you’d be happy to see him.”

You went to the bathroom, frenzied, to apply a fresh dab of concealer under each eye, a new coat of sticky, shiny lip gloss. Your hair looked lackluster. You ran your hands through it, wetting your fingertips to push down the flyaways.

You spent hours behind the counter, at first attentive and then less so. Eventually you realised he probably wasn’t coming and stopped sitting ram-rod straight, your shoulders aching from the effort.

You took your lunch break as usual, eating a simple, squished sandwich with one hand and turning the pages of a new book with another. A romance, smutty, the kind that needed its cover to be hidden away to consume without shame.

The girl was shy, lonely, attending a Christmas party at an acquaintance's house. The love interest was intelligent, smooth. They were flirting. The guy had just said something that brought heat to your cheeks when a familiar voice broke your concentration.

“I fear I’ve come at a bad time.”

You flinched, shutting the book with enough force to make the stool wobble underneath you. He put a hand out to catch you instinctively. You recovered, dropping your sandwich back in the tattered cling film you’d wrapped it in.

You swallowed without chewing, throat burning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the bell.”

“Yes, you seemed rather… entranced.”

The blush intensified. “How are you?” you asked, desperate to move the subject on.

He seemed pleased. “Brilliant. Yourself?”

“I’m good, yeah. Had a day off yesterday.” As soon as you said it, you felt stupid. He knew you’d had a day off.

“Get around to anything?”

“I did about as much as I do here, which, as you can see, isn’t a lot.”

He leaned down, resting an attractive forearm on the countertop. He looked you dead in the eye, which was enough for you to flush again. “You do plenty.”

“No, really. Getting up to find my lunch was about as much as I’ve moved today.”

“I don’t believe you.” He pushed his hand into the big pocket on his jacket. He procured a slightly worn copy of Heaven. “I borrowed this from Remus - the friend, not from last time - and I wanted to talk to you about it, if you’ve a second?”

“Yes, oh my god. Did you like it?”

“It was sad, like you said.”

“It was.”

“And the ending-“

“Infuriating,” you supplied. He nodded, sending you a smile like you were both in on a secret.

“I kept waiting for him to go and see the painting she loved. I thought they’d go see it together, at least.”

“She left so suddenly, too.”

“Right? I thought maybe, before it finished, he’d go see it himself if he couldn’t go with her,” Sirius said.

You searched for the right words to explain your thoughts. “I think… I think because the painting was never really called heaven, that it was a name she chose for it, that when he sees the trees at the end and he’s crying - he’s seeing a version of heaven himself. Not like, God’s heaven. Her heaven.”

Sirius never once looked away from you, didn’t look bored or like he disagreed. He just listened.

“I still have to wonder what the painting looked like,” he said after you’d finished.

“What would your heaven look like?” you asked him. It was perhaps too personal.

“My friends. For you?” he asked.

You weren’t sure. You knew you should say your family, your friends, but something made you really think about it.

“Have you ever gotten up so early it was still dark outside, and you go outside and it’s so quiet, it feels as though nobody else in the world is awake? And you look at the sky - it’s blue with the yellow horizon, it’s purple, or it might even be those clouds tinged pink. I don’t-“ you paused, embarrassed at your babble, “I don’t think I could choose one to be, like, immortalized as heaven. But maybe then.”

He was smiling at you.

“I’m sorry, I must sound like a terrible person.”

“No, of course you don’t. The heaven she spoke about wasn’t necessarily what she loved most in the world. She went there when she was sad.”

You smiled in relief, shoulders relaxing. “Was it only sad?”

His face was handsome, poised, and although he doled out happiness generously you couldn’t work out how he was feeling . “It made me think about stuff I’d forgotten - how people do things to other people without thinking about it. For fun.”

He was so serious. You nodded, twisting your hand in the fabric of your skirt.

“It was a good book. But uh,” he pushed his hand up through his long hair. It fell down into place, looking amazingly soft. “Maybe you can recommend something happier, this time.”

You laughed. “Yes, I think so.”

“What you’re reading now made you seem pleased enough,” he teased.

“Maybe something else.”

“Let me read it, I’ll take notes.”

The way he said it had you pushing your thighs together as tightly as they could go.

It was busy in the shop one day the next week. You didn’t have a chance to sit down, carrying back and forth enough notebooks and new fantasy novels to fill a school library. Your legs shook by the end of the day. You basically had to crawl back to your countertop.

There, clear as day, was a bouquet of roses. They were small, barely blooming, the color of candy floss. They were wrapped in clear plastic and resting on their side. It wasn’t a grand display, but they were beautiful.

There was a note, written on a weird parchment that didn’t have any lines in ink. You gawked at it.

‘Busy day?’

You slipped the parchment between the pages of your current read to use as a bookmark, grinning. You took the roses home, where they lived on your dresser for a month without showing any signs of wilting.

Somebody was staring at you in the food shop. You could feel their gaze on the back of your neck. You turned around, a little worried, to find a cute young baby gazing at you excitedly. He was extremely happy looking, a funny looking rattle in his cute chubby fist.

You waved at him. He babbled at you.

His mother was turned from you both, looking at the pasta shapes.

The baby chucked his toy as hard as he could towards you. You laughed so abruptly his mother turned around in surprise, watching as you retrieved the rattle and offered it to her. She smiled at you in thanks.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, pushing her long, shiny hair from her face.

“Don’t be, please,” you said.

“Harry’s recently learned that when you throw things, somebody will pick it back up for you,” she said, half-amused, half-bitter.

“He’s gorgeous. He can throw things at me as much as he likes.”

“He’s the image of my husband,” she said, waving her fingers at Harry. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Don’t tell me what?” James asked.

You’d seen him before. He was the friend that accompanied Sirius to your bookstore a few weeks ago, peering at you around the corner.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said.

“James?” Lily questioned, looking between you both, mildly perturbed.

“This is Y/N. You work at the book shop near us, don’t you? Where Sirius goes,” James said, dropping the kitchen towels in the cart. Harry’s happiness was tenfold. “Hello, little man.”

“I’m Lily,” she introduced herself. “Sirius is Harry’s godfather, of course.”

“Of course,” you said, though you weren’t sure at all. Harry looked very old, and Sirius had mentioned a friend who was expecting. Looks could be deceiving, but Lily didn’t appear pregnant at all. James was watching you with an amused look on his face.

“He’s 8 months,” he said, grinning.

“He’s lovely.”

“So, you know Sirius then?” Lily asked. They were a stunning couple, grinning and fresh-faced.

“He buys a lot of books.”

They both laughed. “I bet he does,” James said.

You frowned, feeling as though you’d been walking down the stairs and missed the last one.

“James,” Lily scolded.

“I haven’t seen him for a while,” you rambled nervously.

“Don’t fear, he’s off helping Remus with a pest problem,” James said.

Lily and James were amazing at making small talk. They were the kind of people you felt like you could easily have been friends with in another life, both of them enamoring you with their charm and obvious love for each other. They moved like they were facing the same winds, like blades of grass next to each other. And baby Harry was an adorable plus.

Only because Harry was beginning to get annoyed with his constraints did they bid you goodbye. You’d retrieved your basket, telling them to come around the bookstore any time, and mentioning the storytelling hours on weekends. Lily promised to be there.

“And Y/N!” James called.

You turned back around.

“Sirius is allergic to shellfish!” he said over his shoulder. His wife punched him in the shoulder.

It took you a while to piece it together.

The more you thought about it, the more obvious it became. And even though you weren’t sure what a charming, stunning guy like Sirius wanted with a girl like you, you were 67 percent sure he fancied you.

You waited for the next time you saw him. He was loitering by your desk and trying his every best to look as though he’d been there by pure coincidence. You might’ve believed he was, if you didn’t know what you did.

“I was wondering if you could help me find a book,” you asked him. He turned to you, surprised. You continued. “On how to get a guy to ask you out.”

He gaped at you. Unusually, for somebody so well-composed.

“‘Cos I think I’m doing something wrong.”

“What gave you that impression?” he asked, voice scratchy.

“This boy keeps coming to the bookstore. A while ago, he asked me for a book on pregnancy for a friend who’d already had the baby. He bought a cookbook I recommended knowing he couldn’t eat a single thing in it, and the one time I wasn’t here he went home without buying anything. He even left me flowers.”

You took a deep breath, all the bravery rushing out of you. You looked down at his shoes.

“Despite all this, he hasn’t asked me out.”

“He sounds like an idiot.”

“He isn’t,” you denied. “He’s striking, intelligent and thoughtful. He’s not an idiot at all.”

“I think I have been.”

“Well, maybe a little,” you admonished.

He stepped into your space, shoes a millimeter from your own. You knew if you looked up that he would be incredibly close.

“Would you look at me?”

You held your breath, looking through your lashes at his face. His expression was hard to describe, lips in a straight line, eyes intense. He used his index finger to gently tilt your chin up towards him.

“I’m sorry to mess you around, but I’ve never been a big reader. If you think you can look past that, I’d like to take you out. Wherever you want to go.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering yourself. “It’s a real deal breaker, but I think I’ll get over it,” you said quietly, feeling a shyness creep into your words that you didn’t recognise.

“Yeah?” he asked. He was closer now, his exhales tickling your face. You blinked slowly.

“Yes.”

He leaned forward. You closed your eyes, dazzled at the sensation of his nose against yours. He paused, a second, with his lips just above yours. The second was enough to make your stomach feel as though it had been inhabited by a family of butterflies.

He held your chin between his finger and thumb, finally letting his lips touch yours. He was firm, tender. You brought your hand up to his face, barely able to withhold the urge to run your fingers through his hair, relishing in the way he inhaled at your touch. You let him guide you, kissing you sweetly. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

He pulled away, moving his hand up to the side of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“Wherever I want?” you asked, seeing stars.

“Wherever you want. Heaven, if you’d like.”

the book they talk about is heaven by meiko kawakamI, which didn’t come out all those years ago but i put it in anyways! it’s a brilliant book and i recommend it to everyone

tag club :3:

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @etneufaled @thatonecomfyjumper @lupinlust

if u want to be added or removed or i forgot you pls message me! thank u tag club

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