Work Text:
The bell chimes softly as I open the door to my local bookstore, and inhale the smell of warm hot chocolate and coffee and waffles wafting through the air. I have no idea where the scent comes from, but it is a blessing to my nose, so I’m not complaining.
The manager of the bookstore is an elderly lady who’s happily married to the elderly man who runs the arts & crafts store beside, and the mother of the young man who runs the comic store beside the arts & crafts store.
Yeah, there’s, like, lore to how they’re all related. It even took me a few visits here to memorise it.
"Ah, Reader!" Mrs Facer exclaims, her lips curving into a sweet smile. She’s so fairy-godmother core, and I am here for it.
"Hello, Mrs!" I smile back, "How are you today?"
"I’m doing alright, thanks," She replies, taking off her glasses to wipe them, "You?"
"I’m at the bookstore right now," I answer, "Today is a good day."
She chuckles at my remark as Ben—her husband, who refuses to be referred to as Mr Facer and just goes by “Ben”—walks past and murmurs, "Nerd."
Ah, yes. These two are mentally my grandparents on so many levels.
I head over to the (your favourite genre which is actually probably fan-fiction because your simping self is reading this, l + ratio, couldn’t be me, anyway if romance is your favourite pick your second favourite because i said so) section and browse, tapping my finger softly against the spine of the books as I look for titles or authors that spark my interest.
"May I help you?"
I turn to see a man with slightly ruffled (in the most adorable way ever) hair, a thick pair of dark glasses—and eyebrows, wearing a collared shirt, tie, and pants.
Oh. My.
"Act-actually, yes please," I answer, internally screeching at myself to recall every flirting tip I’ve learnt from re-reading the Riordan-verse, "D’you know where the … romance section is?"
YES. YES. YES.
He nods and points to a few bookshelves over. Obviously, I already know this bookstore like the back of my hand, but this guy is ADORABLE.
"Ah, where sorry?" I ask, squinting, feigning to be troubled to figure out where he’s pointing.
"There."
"Wha?"
He shuffles closer and (leans down/stands up) to my height, where he does his best to align my eyesight with his pointing hand.
"Nup, don’t see it," I say, shrugging.
He sighs with exasperation, "I’ll show you then."
I follow him through to the romance section.
"So," He starts. "What type of romance are you interested in?"
The way he says it is smooth, but also a bit like he’s memorised a script.
He’s adorable.
"Ah, well, …" I say, letting my voice trail off so he can imagine how that’ll finish.
Fluff. Meet-cutes.
Lemons and limes.
"Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that."
"Meet cute," I answer, settling for that. That earns a bit of a blush from him. I continue the flow of the conversation, "What type of genre are you into?"
"Non-fiction. I enjoy reading science textbooks and then sending passive-aggressive criticism letter to the authors."
Frick, that is hot.
"How do they respond to that?" I ask, curious.
"They don’t." He muttered. I snort.
We walk past a lady with a ‘I’M HERE JUST TO READ’ badge (a method the store formed earlier so that people could come in just to read their own books as if this is a library and not a bookstore) a book in hand. She dog-ears the top corner of the page and closes the book, revealing the cover to be missing, and stains on the very visible front page.
"…Yikes," I say.
"That should be a crime," The bookstore worker adds.
"You can be the lawyer and I can be the witness after we accuse her," I tease. That earns one dorky laugh out of him. I continue, "I mean, almost anything can be used as a bookmark! A lolly wrapper, a hair clip, a receipt—I used a broken back-scratcher for year as a bookmark, until I lost it, that is—and they still actively choose to dog-ear?"
"A … broken back-scratcher?"
"Yeah, the scratcher bit fell off so all I had was the handle. I put stickers on it and everything," I say.
"Ah. Well… here’s the romance section," He says as we reach it.
"Thank you," I tell him, smiling.
"No probbles," He says as he walks off.
This absolute dorky nerd.
I place Sunrise On The Reaping and Percy Jackson And The Greek Heroes onto the counter.
"Neither of these are romance," He points out as he raises an eyebrow and begins to scan them.
"I changed my mind," I reply.
"Valid," He says as he looks up from the register. "Would you like a bag with that?"
"Yes, please!"
"Would you like to pick from one of the free bookmarks, since you’ve bought two books? It’s a new advert the store formed."
I lean over the counter, "I’d like your bookmark in me."
…
"Well that’s—that’s—Okay—" He stutters out. "How about I learn your name first before—"
"So that you can whimper it?"
He squeaks, "OH. OH."
"It’s Reader, by the way," I answer.
"So cute but so freaky, I think my type is changing," He murmurs under his breath. "Donnie. My name is Donnie. Well, your, uh, suggestive language … Well. May I please have your number?"
"You take the digits of my phone and I’ll take the digits of your hands," I reply, biting my index finger.
"HOLY SHI—"
A/N:
and then you found out that Mikey worked at the arts & crafts store, leo at the comic store, and raph was unemployed because yes and you got dirty with donnie the END.
i actually have never written a lemon/lime before (i’ve READ a lot, never written tho) so if i get the courage i lowk might write a p2 but that is highly unlikely so dont get your hopes up