ALL RIGHT YOU LITTLE ROSIES YOU ASKED AND YOU WILL RECIEVE
Please don't expect anything high quality. I pulled this out of my butt, but I still hope you'll enjoy. By the way, if anyone literally reads this because they have a crush on me, please tel...
A/n: Hello everybody! Today is May 14, 2021. Like I said in the description, somehow you guys all managed to bully me into putting this out. There will be no waiting for updates, just a few solid chapters to feed your horny minds. I'm watching Far From Home right now and my heart can't take this.
Y/n adjusts her cloth book bag that she purchased at the Louvre, her stomach flitting with excitement at her bookstore trip. Once every month, she makes a trip down to her local bookstore to treat herself to 3 new books plus an extra treet like a Funko pop for her collection.
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If she's being quite honest, these trips are the only thing keeping her sane. With teaching English Literature at the college, free and peaceful moments are a rarity.
And there it is. The tiny little bookstore, wedged between the popular shops and built of dark oak. It's narrow, with two stories. On the second story is a sweet little coffee shop, with a bay window overlooking the street.
Adjusting her glasses, (blue light or prescription) she steps into the bookstore and out of the nipping cold fog. Warmth immediately spreads over her body, sending goosebumps over her arms and a flush in her cheeks.
"Oh, hey Y/n! Has it really been a month?" The shopowner, Elio, greets.
She laughs and shrugs. "Somehow."
"Well, the shops not to busy today, so have at it," he says, smiling warmly at her. When the two first met, he actually asked her out. He was sweet, with his seaglass eyes and moppy brown curls, but Y/n had to tell him she was queer. It was totally fine, and he actually set her up on a date with his sister. That didn't pan out, but the friendship was still strong.
Y/n makes her way through the aisles, her fingers tracing over the spines of the old books. The shop is like the dark academia Goodwill of book stores. Slowly, she makes her way into the LGBTQ+ sections, filled with all the perfect book with representation.
She spots a book and takes it out, inspecting it. The Last Nude by Ellis Avery. The cover is beautiful, and the summary shimmers with the possibility of getting sucked into the decadent 1920s setting.
Tucking it into her bag, Y/n begins skimming the bookshelves again, searching for another book. She sees the spine of one: The Best Bad Things by Katrina Carrasco. Pacific Northwest in 1887? Gay spies? Can we say Irene Adler? Yes, we can.
Her hand tightens around the spine to pull it out, but it remains the same, a tension holding it back. She gives it another good yank, eliciting a yelp from the book. The book yelped? Reluctantly, Y/n lets the book go, and it launches backwards.
The gap created in the bookshelf reveals a beautiful woman. She has poofy chestnut hair twisted into natural corkscrew curls, freckles fanned over her face, full pink lips, and sparkling hazel eyes. From what Y/n can see over the bookshelf, she's wearing a tight crop top with quartered bell sleeves, roses dotted all over the cream shirt.
