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lost-decade · 8 months

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Reading asks! Thank you to @verycoolwearsleather for the tag 😘

An estimate of how many physical books I own: Surprisingly not that many. I'd say around 100. I did have a lot more but took them all to the charity shop before I moved to London and haven't accumulated a very big collection since. Although I do have a weakness for big glossy photobooks.

Favourite author: Hmm, I wouldn't say I actually have one. My taste in reading is quite niche (ideally contemporary literary fiction but set in the early/mid 20th century, about real life rich beautiful people gallivanting around Europe falling in love with each other, blended with fictional characters and with a queer slant). Villa America by Liza Klaussmann certainly fit that brief. Big fan of Scott Fitzgerald also, surprising no one, and Donna Tartt. Love Garth Greenwell too.

A popular book I've never read and never intend to read: I generally don't read popular books haha

A popular book I thought was just meh:

I wouldn't say it's a popular book anymore but I read the Godfather years ago and found it incredibly mediocre in comparison to the film

Longest book I own: I do have a copy of the Count of Monte Cristo somewhere but only made it a few chapters in and watched the miniseries instead.

Longest series I own all the books to: I think probably the Shadow of the Wind series by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, which I adored apart from the last book which I thought was never going to end.

Prettiest book I own: I have quite a few gorgeous coffee table books on photography, London history, architecture etc. And a couple that are full of cocks. For the beauty of the photos I'll say Collaboration, which is a collection of the photographs of Paul Camus, Jared French and Margaret French, which are stunning and surreal. They were artists and lovers who photographed each other and their friends on Fire Island in the late 1930s. Some of which can be seen here: https://www.pineshistory.org/the-archives/art-history-paul-cadmus-jared-amp-margaret-french

Also I treasure my copy of the Duran Duran World Book, which documents their 1988 world tour.

A book or series I wish more people knew about: What Belongs to You by Garth Greenwell, which is about an American teacher who falls in love with a Bulgarian sex worker he cruises in a public toilet in Sofia. Also, Cleanness by the same author, which is an interconnected short story collection.

Book I'm reading now: I've just finished The Destroyers but Christopher Bollen, which kept me guessing but ultimately ended a bit flat. I'm also reading All Down Darkness Wide by the poet Sean Hewitt, which is a memoir, but I know it's going to get depressing as hell so probably need to step away from that one for my mental health and read something a bit more cheerful.

Since watching the recent Interview with the Vampire series I've started reading the Anne Rice books too. Finished book 4 a month ago and taking a bit of a break from the series for now.

Book that's been on my TBR list for a while but I still haven't got around to it: I keep meaning to go back to The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles, which I attempted to read twice and couldn't get into. Also the Captive Prince series by CS Pacat.

Do you have any books in a language other than English: not that I can think of.

Paperback, hardcover, or ebook?: I prefer paperbacks and have been reading more physical books lately, but also use my kindle from time to time.

#books #reading

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pedanther · 1 year

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“I,” replied the viscount,—”I saw Castaing executed, but I think I was rather intoxicated that day, for I had quitted college the same morning, and we had passed the previous night at a tavern.”

Edme-Samuel Castaing was a French physician who was accused of murdering two wealthy friends with morphine, at the time an exotic new drug. He was found not guilty of the first murder count, but guilty of the second, and was executed in December 1823.

The annotations in my copy of The Count of Monte Cristo, after summarizing Castaing's career, point out that this is rather early for Albert to have been out carousing with college buddies, given that we have reason to believe he would have been less than 10 years old at the time.

#the cristo account #the count of monte cristo #chapter 35 #edme-samuel castaing #not a reblog

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105nt · 1 year

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My 2022 in books

With my kids a little older and a lot more into their own stuff, I have had a good run. These are all the books I read for the first time this year in reverse order (I've not yet finished with The Time Traveller's Wife):

The books I enjoyed most in 2022:

The Wonder by Emma Donoghue A hotpot of motherhood, abuse and atonement - in which science comes head to head with faith and both succeeds and fails. I was impressed by the way the story gives weight to every consideration - Anna's autonomy, Ireland's suffering, the duties and limits of love. Outstanding.

Normal People by Sally Rooney I came to this having loved the TV version, and I wasn't disappointed. A very raw, and very true, portrait of what it is like to live and love, and how that differs from what we're told to expect.

Precious Bane by Mary Webb I'd been planning to read some Mary Webb for some time, but it was never top of my reading pile. Then I read a biography that reignited my interest, when I found she once occupied a house about 100 yards from my back door, and I found an old cloth copy which I liked the feel of more than the paperback I'd already bought. I thought I knew what I was getting from Precious Bane - everyone knows that the heroine has a cleft lip which she feels sets her apart in solitude, and that the book abounds with rustic scenes, homilies and events, and that there will be a handsome man who will choose her. I'd read Cold Comfort Farm the year before, and so in some sense had already laughed at Precious Bane before opening it. I was not expecting it to be littered with events that were genuinely shocking and dramatic, or to be convinced by the romantic ending, but I was. I really felt it managed to transcend the fun that is poked at it.

The Ink Black Heart by Robert Galbraith I've been totally absorbed by Strike for nearly two years now. A lot of people didn't rate IBH but it arrives and takes its place in my top five with flick of its strawberry-blond mane. I was expecting another book like Troubled Blood - meaty, satisfying, layered ... I am back to hotpots again (must be the weather) but I spent the whole week I managed to stretch this over on the edge of my seat; disturbed and fascinated, wanting to be drawn in and pampered the way I had been with TB, but constantly having the rug pulled from under me. I will never forgive her for killing the sofa.

Shuggie Bane by Douglas Stuart It's a rare skill to keep your reader wanting a happy ending long after it's clearly hopeless and yet make them unable to abandon the story. Douglas Stuart has that skill. He's a dangerous man and should be on a list somewhere.

A few other things:

My least favourite book was Worst. Idea. Ever. by Jane Fallon. I just can't ... I don't get it. Please. Someone. Explain.

My favourite audiobook this year was The Lamplighters by Emma Stonex. I'd never listened to an audiobook before and, to put it mildly, this was a good start. I also listened to all the Strike novels 1-6, Anna Karenina, War and Peace, The Count of Monte Cristo, Dracula, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas and The Iliad. I go for the classics in a big way because 1. they are free, and 2. they go well with the ironing.

If I could only have had one of these reading experiences, it would have to be The Ink Black Heart.

#my reading #2022 #top 5 list #the ink black heart #robert galbraith #the wonder #emma donoghue #normal people #sally rooney #precious bane #mary webb #shuggie bain #douglas stuart #the lamplighters #emma stonex #worst. idea. ever.#jane fallon

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nonsubstantial · 10 months

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2023 book breakdown (first half)

~most of these, I listened to as audiobooks. But this is just a list of all the books I experienced this year, chronologically~

January ++

Nemesis Games (the expanse 5) - impact: 8/10

another solid entry in the expanse series, which has become a pretty comforting *go-to* for me at this point. There are a lot of things in these books that bug me, but their suspense and wit keeps managing to cover for their flaws. I have no doubt that further entries in this series will be simultaneously annoying and enjoyable, in the same way that this was.

February ++

A Court of Thorns and Roses (acotar 1) - impact: 3/10

I’m reading this series only because some podcasters I like started doing a podcast series analyzing it. While those podcasters (and one of my friends) really loved it, I unfortunately hated it. I can appreciate what they found good about these books, but I found the author’s inane descriptors and frequent misuse of words to be too distracting to overlook. Not only that, but I found a lot of the conflict to be rather trite.

March ++

The Count of Monte Cristo - impact 10/10...

several friends recommended this to me, one even going as far as to gift me their old copy before moving away. Unfortunately, I then slept on it for years, before finally picking it up. Holy shit though, am I glad that I finally picked it up. It may be correct to call it my favorite book of all time. This goes so far beyond being a simple revenge story. In fact, nothing in this book is simple, and I really feel like it manages to touch upon nearly every conviction that can exist within the human mind. While some of the narrative is archaic, that is only natural, since this book is nearly 200 years old. But despite being that old, there are some things in this story that still feel wildly progressive, even by today’s standards. Additionally, I feel that an understanding of the past, and the evolution of our culture, is important to understanding progress today. So I swear to you, this is a true masterpiece, and I hope that I can encourage other people to read it too, because it probably deserves to live on in our collective minds for at least 200 years more.

April ++

A Court of Mist and Fury (acotar 2) - impact: 2/10

as described in my blurb about the first book, I didn’t really like this series. I was having fun with the discussions about it, but holy shit it is waaaay too long, and I honestly feel like as much as I’ve heard that people can read into it as ‘empowering’, I really just found it to be insulting and trite. I felt like the language that the author uses to describe characters and relationships reinforces gendered hegemony, and their narrative doesn’t do many favors to class or social struggles either. I think I’d categorize it as a kind of wish fulfillment fantasy, but even then it’s way too long and the author’s constant misuse (or meaningless use) of words just left me feeling frustrated and offended.

Everyone on the Moon Is Essential Personnel - impact: 9/10

this book is one of the best collections of short stories that I’ve ever come across. Jarboe’s writing is thoughtful and to the point, usually utilizing clever metaphors for queer experiences. What really impressed me is how quickly I was able to understand every character and feel a personal connection to them. I could write a lot more about it, but reading this felt freeing and inspiring, in quite a unique way.

In The Watchful City - impact: 5/10

I was interested in the premise of this book, and its use of neopronouns, but I was left feeling a little underwhelmed. I liked the author’s ambition, but I feel like it failed in communicating its setting, as well as the main character’s motivations and feelings. Really, I see it as an interesting collection of ideas, but with none of them fully explored.

May ++

I did not finish a book in May :(

(only manga :3) (p.s. I love chainsaw man)

June++

Babylon’s Ashes (the expanse 6) - impact: 8/10

another wonderful entry in the expanse series. Way more gay representation in this one too. I feel like it brought less new ideas to the table, but it instead focused on re-examining earlier themes and really rounding out the best characters from earlier books. In fact, almost every important character makes a return here, without it ever feeling contrived... which I believe is a magnificent achievement. I’m counting this as my second favorite Expanse book, up until this point.

Leech - impact: 10/10...

a book so perfect, I'd almost believe it was written just for me. The basic plot is that (stay with me here) a brain parasite hivemind goes to a spooky castle to investigate the murder of one of its host bodies, only to discover that the death might have been caused by a *different* brain parasite hivemind. The story is gruesome and terrifying, and supported by worldbuilding that is so creative and poignant that I wanted to live in it forever. The author’s writing is also beautiful and precise, and as I said before, it really just delivered on every front.

#book recommendations #personal #2023

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deuterosapiens · 11 months

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Today's haul fron the bookstore, which I really should never enter when I'm feeling indecisive, is:

Radium Girls (Kate Moore)

The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)

The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)

It might be worth noting that I was not too fond of Crime and Punishment and found myself especially displeased with the ending, but I'm excited for Brothers Karamazov all the same.

Had to resist picking up a copy of Don Quixote (which I've technically read most of, abridged, in university) and an Epic of Gilgamesh. I have a compulsion and a problem. But it's not a problem. I can stop whenever I want.

#books #book haul #brothers karamazov #radium girls #obsessed #i can stop whenever i want

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byronicbi · 2 years

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My dad picked up Spanish when he started dating my mom, his first language being English. My mom grew up in a Spanglish household, where their English was not great but their Spanish was secondhand and rife with regional slang. Both of these people agreed that neither needed to change anything about how they communicated because they could understand each other and those around them perfectly well.

Three years and a rather hurried wedding later, I popped out of the womb with a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo tightly grasped in my too-pale hands. Both my parents were confused. My dad, who cannot string a proper sentence together using only one language, claims that I must be adopted. My mother, who says that school is the Devil's instrument, is devastated by how many books I consume while growing up.

The result? Me, who is both English as a second language AND Spanish as a second language, no first language to be found, my manner of speech is either 1) chronic internet speak with a dash of AAVE or 2) Jane Austen's long lost brother, and what do I decide to do for a living?

Write.

I really looked at myself and went "You know what you should do? You? Whose grasp of rules for both English and Spanish are rudimentary at best? Write. Become an author. What can possibly go wrong?"

So yeah.

When I say "how the fuck do I words", believe me, I mean that in a very very literal way.

#we also don't talk about how my dad is black and my mom's latina and yet i was born with silky black hair and the bluest eyes and pale af.#not saying anything about my mother but uh. we're all thinking it. we're all thinking it really hard.#post brought to you by my utter frustration at being able to put Thoughts into Words without them sounding idiotic.#personal text.

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bucklees · 2 years

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your muse’s love tropes : gothic literature edition .

bold for things that always apply . italic for things that sometimes apply . & strike out what never applies . do not reblog ; copy and paste on a new post .

carmilla : giant featherbeds . tightening a corset . moonlit walks . killing for love . cruelty for the sake of love . love is always selfish . romantic tragedy . love to the brink of destruction . nighttime rendezvous . bloody kisses on soft skin . death was the maiden . a very strange agony . claimed by the supernatural . dreaming about your lover . sympathy for the devil . loving me to death . candlesticks lighting up the palm of your hand . a passion that wearies you . killing the one you love .

phantom of the opera : a single red rose laid out to be found . sensual voices singing them to sleep . a familiar shadow attending every recital . love waits on the rooftop in the night . two soulmates holding hands . walking down long corridors . retrieving something lost . devoting one’s craft to them . making them your muse . the horror was for love . painted faces on parade . gentle touches in the dark . revealing your darkest secrets . beauty & the beast . writing messages on the mirror . kindness conquers all . letting your lover go . love never dies .

jane eyre : loving the escape . an impassioned affair . being consumed by love . meeting your soulmate . lace & silk . thirsting for the perfect romance . marrying for passion . losing yourself in the face of your lover . wedding veils & bouquets of pink roses . maddened by love . finding warmth in the cold . calling out for your love . starting at the bottom . the fire cleanses all . hiding your passion . your love will destroy me / my love will destroy you .

the picture of dorian gray : painting a portrait or sketching the face of someone you love . meeting in secret . visions of your lover dying . clutching a lovers clothes to your chest . love so consuming you kill them . protecting their innocence at all costs . betrayal . polyamory . devotion . flowers for the ones you love . remembering the name of your first love . jealousy when you see them with someone else . love so consuming you die for it . visiting the place where you saw them the first time .

the count of monte cristo : letters to your lover . marrying for love . these bars can’t keep me from you . motivated by love . an avenging angel . scorching jealousy . love reborn . devoted to memory . it was all for you . going your separate ways . commit murder for me . an unstoppable hunger . death comes for us all . the strongest love eventually grows apart .

dracula : the holiest love . girls love wolves . the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb . violence is passion . red lips , sharp teeth . love letters in a diary . unrelenting support . getting lost in the woods . coming home to you . walking backwards into hell . vengeance for my love . even death won’t stop me . we can live forever . love is an open wound . too much love to give . bestowing your favor . a never - ending thirst . beauty even in death . ravenous desire . if only death had a heart to give . a mercy killing . these violent delights have violent ends .

frankenstein : childhood friends to lovers . they were something out of a dream . arranged marriages . learning to love . was it all really worth it ? . our guilt can know no bounds . vengeance , my love . dismembered body parts . my beating heart in your open palm . your death destroys me . adam & eve crossing the mountains . an antagonist in mourning . paradise lost . the loss of innocence . abandoning your dream . the tempest on the horizon . humans are the real monsters . my love is wiser than my hate .

tagged by: @4puffs MWAH tagging: @guiltskate, @cheerspirit, @holydivr, @angel1ace, @exjerk, & any of my mutuals that want to do it can say i tagged them!

#i call this one 'being gay in the horror genre'#thanks for the tag courtney!#always tag me in these always assume i'll do them #I. DASH GAMES.

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acekatherineplumber · 1 year

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I find it really telling what books people have multiples of on their shelves, so I took a look at my own. I found:

5 copies of Red, White, and Royal Blue

2 copies of Little Women

5 copies of The Lightning Thief

2 copies of The Red Pyramid

2 copies of The Hill We Climb

2 copies of The Count of Monte Cristo

2 copies of A Christmas Carol

The works of Victor Hugo

-10 copies of Les Mis

-3 copies of Hunchback of Notre Dame

-2 copies of 1793

Harry Potter

-6 copies of Sorcerer’s Stone

-2 copies of Chamber of Secrets

-3 copies of Prisoner of Azkaban

-3 copies of Order of the Phoenix

-2 copies of Half Blood Prince

Shakespeare:

-3 complete works

-5 extra copies of Hamlet

-1 extra of Much Ado

-2 extra of Macbeth

-1 extra of Taming of the Shrew

-2 extra of Midsummer

-3 extra of Romeo and Juliet

#the way i counted is a little dicey #like the 2 little womens one is technically a retelling but it's not so much a retelling as it is a time period shift so i counted it #and the five extra hamlets include an edition told entirely through textspeak and a choose your own adventure version #and i can read more than one language so the foreign language editions of some books count towards their total #and i included the graphic novels #and two of the hugo novels were pulled from a book of his selected works (which is pretty much everything but les mis #and the harry potters i have two of the minalimas and two of the big illustrated ones but i honestly need to get rid of a couple #they're not even in a book bin let alone on the shelves #I have three book bins and three bookshelves #but i honestly need another bookshelf #what problem? where?#i honestly can't tell #you how many i have #inventory will be a goal this year #as well as keeping the new books i buy under 10 books #i make no promises about used ones #elphie reads

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libertyreads · 1 year

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January TBR--

The first TBR for 2023 looks so sad, but I’m planning to get to a large amount of Kindle books and ARCs. I’m also planning on reading a little slower this year which means fewer books per month. I have a TBR that only adds up to 1,686 pages total. What am I going to do with all this free time?!

1. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (40 Before 40 Project and Kindle)-- One of the last few books I have left for my big project and one of the books I’ve been looking forward to the least. This one is a dystopian novel (shouldn’t I be excited for that?) set in a futuristic world inhabited by genetically modified citizens with an intelligence-based social hierarchy. This was written in 1931, published in 1932. I’m bored already. (I should really try to work out of my low expectations but, with the exception of The Count of Monte Cristo, this project has shown me that I don’t like classics.)

2. Terrier by Tamora Pierce (40 Before 40 Project)-- When I made my big project last year, I let two of my best friends pick a book for me to read and this author was highly recommended. I have never read from this author before so I don’t know what to expect. It seems like this might be a prequel to another series of hers, but I remember reading through the synopses for all the series openers and this one I remember liking more. We follow Beka Cooper who is a rookie within the Provost’s Guard. Her magical abilities help her when she’s assigned to work in the Lower City. Chaos ensues? We’ll see.

3. Mistakenly Married by Victorine E. Lieske (Kindle)-- Book #3 in this series where you really need to suspend your disbelief. When there’s a mixup at a Las Vegas chapel, Penny doesn’t get married to her online boyfriend, but to Harrison Williams--a man who needs a wife to gain access to his trust fund. When the mistake is uncovered, Harrison convinces Penny to go back to Bel Air to prove he’s married while promising to pretend to be the online boyfriend so her family doesn’t have to know about her big mistake.

4. Blissfully Married by Victorine E. Lieske (Kindle)-- Book #4 in this series. This premise seems a little more believable than the last three. In this one Sidney’s matchmaking business is suffering so she dons a fake engagement ring to boost customer confidence. She thinks fate is on her side when her fake engagement ring keeps the ex-boyfriend who shattered her heart at bay. Blake can’t believe it when he runs into Sidney and realizes she’s all grown up. And off limits. When he finds out she’s not really engaged, he makes it his goal to coax the truth out of her.

5. Royals by Rachel Hawkings-- This one feels a bit like the Princess Diaries in that our main character is supposed to become a Lady in order to avoid making a fool of herself at court. But this time the main character isn’t the royal. Her sister will be once she marries the Crown Prince of Scotland. I saw a lot of hype for this when it originally came out in 2018 and found a pretty cheap copy at a library sale. I’m hoping to have fun with it, but not expecting too much.

6. The Quarter storm by Veronica G. Henry (Kindle)-- I made the rookie mistake of requesting a second book in a series on NetGalley so when I was approved for it I realized I needed to grab book one. This is the first book in that series and set in New Orleans. We follow a Vodou practitioner as she tries to solve a ritual murder.

#tbr #monthly tbr #January tbr #new year #bookish #booklr #bookstagram #books to read in 2023 #to be read #to be read pile

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straye · 2 years

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— ❛❛ // Your Muse’s Love Tropes: Gothic Literature Edition.

italic for things that sometimes apply, bold for things that always apply and strike out what never applies. DO NOT REBLOG ; COPY AND PASTE ON A NEW POST.

CARMILLA. giant featherbeds. tightening a corset. moonlit walks. killing for love. cruelty for the sake of love. love is always selfish. romantic tragedy. love to the brink of destruction. nighttime rendezvous. bloody kisses on soft skin. death was the maiden. a very strange agony. claimed by the supernatural. dreaming about your lover. sympathy for the devil. loving me to death. candlesticks lighting up the palm of your hand. a passion that wearies you. killing the one you love.

PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. a single red rose laid out to be found. sensual voices singing them to sleep. a familiar shadow attending every recital. love waits on the rooftop in the night. two soulmates holding hands. walking down long corridors. retrieving something lost. devoting one’s craft to them. making them your muse. the horror was for love. painted faces on parade. gentle touches in the dark. revealing your darkest secrets. beauty and the beast. writing messages on the mirror. kindness conquers all. letting your lover go. love never dies.

JANE EYRE. loving the escape. an impassioned affair. being consumed by love. meeting your soulmate. lace and silk. thirsting for the perfect romance. marrying for passion. losing yourself in the face of your lover. wedding veils and bouquets of pink roses. maddened by love. finding warmth in the cold. calling out for your love. starting at the bottom. the fire cleanses all. hiding your passion. your love will destroy me / my love will destroy you.

THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. painting a portrait or sketching the face of someone you love. meeting in secret. visions of your lover dying. clutching a lover’s clothes to your chest. love so consuming you kill them. protecting their innocence at all costs. betrayal. polyamory. devotion. flowers for the one you love. remembering the name of your first love. jealousy when you see them with someone else. love so consuming you die for it. visiting the place where you saw them the first time.

THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. letters to your lover. marrying for love. these bars can’t keep me from you. motivated by love. an avenging angel. scorching jealousy. love reborn. devoted to memory. it was all for you. going your separate ways. commit murder for me. an unstoppable hunger. death comes for us all. the strongest love eventually grows apart.

DRACULA. the holiest love. girls love wolves. the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. violence is passion. red lips, sharp teeth. love letters in a diary. unrelenting support. getting lost in the woods. coming home to you. walking backwards into hell. vengeance for my love. even death won’t stop me. we can live forever. love is an open wound. too much love to give. bestowing your favor. a never-ending thirst. beauty even in death. ravenous desire. if only death had a heart to give. a mercy killing. these violent delights have violent ends.

FRANKENSTEIN. childhood friends to lovers. they were something out of a dream. arranged marriages. learning to love. was it all really worth it? our guilt can know no bounds. vengeance, my love. dismembered body parts. my beating heart in your open palm. your death destroys me. adam and eve. crossing the mountains. an antagonist in mourning. paradise lost. the loss of innocence. abandoning your dream. the tempest on the horizon. humans are the real monsters. my love is wiser than my hate.

tagging: anyone! I stole this lolol.

#out of control. ∶ ( queue. )#do i dare eat the peach? ∶ ( dash game. )

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sunfoxfic · 3 years

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I'm making myself a monte cristo

#fun fact that's really not related #a week and a half ago i visited my ancestral homeland to raid my late great aunt's house so that my aunt can't get to it before us #and i found a copy of the count of monte cristo #i assumed it dated back to 1944 bc it had a library card thing that said it was due in 1944 #so i nabbed it bc. cool! old book! this is one of my dad's favorites!#and apparently it's a LOT older than that #personally i just find it really funny that it was stolen from the library in 1944 #rambles

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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All I Wanna Be Is Somebody To You

A Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: For the one anon who wanted a nervous reader! I hope I did this justice for you, darling! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She didn’t hate talking. Not really. But the idea of holding conversations with people she didn’t know sent her heart fluttering and her throat tightening until it was impossible to breathe. More often than not, she found herself apologizing a lot for the stuttering or the repeating of things she said. Most people gave her odd looks, told her to stop apologizing so much (like that ever helped anyone), or laughed and told her she was cute—which was nice until she realized they meant in a childish sort of way rather than an endearing one.

But it wasn’t always like that. According to her parents, there’d been a time when she couldn’t stop talking. Always had something to say and had somebody to tell. Something changed during her years, she knew when, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself or her family when they asked what happened to their outgoing and talkative daughter. Too many times she’d heard, “You know no one cares about X, right?” or “Oh my God, will you shut up?” and every time she heard it from a friend it dug into her a little deeper, made her shut her mouth tighter, and tore her heart much harsher.

And because she chose to be the silent type instead of the outgoing one, people assumed her arrogant and cold, distant and rude, and she found herself spending most of middle school and high school by herself. She was glad when graduation came, and while she’d dreaded giving her valedictorian speech, she did manage to get through it without too much trouble. It did feel like her one triumph against everyone who ignored her throughout school.

College freed her. Allowed her to make a flexible schedule, take smaller classes, and be solitary when she wanted. She’d refused a dorm room on the campus, living only fifteen minutes from Gotham University, instead choosing to commute daily and she liked it a lot more than having roommates in a four-bedroom apartment on the school grounds.

When she wasn’t in class, she stayed home a lot. It came with being a homebody, but when she did go out into the great big city, she liked to shop. Little antique shops or bookstores. She went to bookstores more than she did school. There was something so wonderful about finding a book in the shop and sitting down at a café and reading quietly. Which is how she met him, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wanted anything to do with her. She was quiet and shy, and he was open and flirty. They obviously didn’t match in any way, shape, or form. At least, that’s what she thought.

***

She drew her gaze along the wall of books before her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she searched for the novel. It’d been a long time since she’d read The Count of Monte Cristo, a copy of her father’s that he’d had when she was just a child. Something had reminded her of it the other day and all she could think about was getting her own so she could annotate in the margins.

As she came across it, she started reaching when someone got to it first, one finger pulling it out by its spine before taking it into their hand. She visibly deflated with a soft sigh as it was the last copy and hung her head in defeat.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting this too?” Her head cocked up and she gazed at the young man before her. He smiled and she felt like she’d been shot in the chest at how dazzling it was. “Here, you can have it.”

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, “You got it first.” Nodding, she added, “It’s yours.”

He cocked a brow at that. “Well, from the devastated look on your face, doll, you want it to be yours.”

Her cheeks warmed at that, and she felt nervous where she stood, resisting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “N-no it’s okay.” She said. “You take it.”

“Oh no you don’t. That’s not how this works.” He chuckled and took her hands, pressing the book into them, then he winked at her. “The doll deserves to have her book.”

If there had ever been a time in which she wanted to explode from embarrassment, it was then, and before she knew it, she shoved the book back into his arms and so hard that it must’ve knocked the wind out of him because he gasped. She spun around and took off down the aisle and out the front doors as fast as she could, wanting nothing more than to disappear in the crowded streets. That or sink into the ground. Maybe next week she’d come back and get the book. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be there again.

***

Then again, her hopes were always wrong, and she picked up the copy of The Divine Comedy, flipping it open to read the first page.

“I see you’re a fan of the classics, aren’t you, doll?”

She snapped the book shut when she heard his voice and looked over at him. Something inside annoyed her at the cocky smirk he wore, much more was the arm he had resting on the top of the bookshelf as he gazed at her.

“You know, you left a nice bruise on me the other week.” He quipped, shifting his weight to cross his ankles. “You’re pretty strong.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning to look back at the book. “Sorry I hit you…it was an accident.”

“Well, I can accept your apology if you tell me your name.”

“Why?” she questioned quietly, wiggling her toes.

“Because I wanna put a name to such a cute face. Why else?” he flirted, and she scowled at the book cover. “Oh, that’s an even more adorable face.”

“Quit doing that!” she hissed. “It’s not funny!”

He chuckled. “Oh contraire, it’s actually hilarious.” He took a step towards her. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

Her eyes darted to the outstretched hand, and she stared at it for a split second before softly shaking it. “(Y/N).” she murmured.

Before she could pull her hand back, he raised it and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Enchanté ma chérie,” he professed, breath hot against her skin and just like before, she was so absolutely flustered she was yanking her hand back and poor Jason’s grip slipped, and he whacked himself in the face with his own hand.

“Nice to meet you!” (Y/N) yelped and scurried off down the aisle and to the register where she purchased her book in record time. Third time was the charm and she prayed that he wouldn’t be there again.

***

And whoever lived upstairs must’ve really had it out for her because she flipped the page in her One Thousand and One Arabian Nights and heard an exaggerated cough. Looking up through her eyelashes, she saw Jason standing there with a grin on his face. “Hello (Y/N),” he purred, and she immediately felt her cheeks become hot.

“Hi Jason,” she muttered, gazing at her book, listening to the chair screech as he sat down across from her.

“How are you doing today?” he asked, setting down his own copy of Arabian Nights.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, finding it harder to focus on the book over the smell of his woody and oriental cologne. She thought she smelled a twinge of tobacco with it. “I’m fine.” Her eyes found his teal ones for a moment. “And you?”

He smiled, making her heart pick up a beat. “Doing pretty good.” He winked. “I got to see you again. Though I’m hoping I don’t get hit again. Either by a book or my own fist.”

“Sorry…” she cringed, sinking down in her seat. “That was an accident.”

Jason shrugged and propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin on his fingers. “Don’t worry about it. Say, do you like coffee?”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Great, want anything from the café?” he asked, nodding at the board and she looked over at it.

“I guess I could order a latte,” she replied more to herself than him, starting to pull her wallet out.

“Nah, I got it.” Jason said, standing from his seat.

(Y/N) blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said I got it.” He quipped and she jumped from her seat to stop him, but caught the leg of her chair, and she flailed, stumbling right into Jason. They went tumbling to the floor and she landed atop him. For a minute they were both stunned silent as the people in the store looked at them and he smirked at her. “Well, this saves me the trouble of asking you out to dinner.” He winked again. “Should’ve told me you had a bold streak, doll.”

She immediately scrambled up, placing one of her hands on his chest to shove off him when her leg slipped, and her knee went into his groin. He groaned and rolled over, holding his crotch and (Y/N) was so mortified all she could do was apologize profusely and at one point she was sure she was mixing up her words, but it didn’t matter. Grabbing her things, she started running off a third time.

Though she’d made it ten feet out of the door and down the street before someone grabbed her round the waist and hauled her to a stop. “Oh no! We’re not doing this pattern again! I am not getting hit a fourth time!”

(Y/N) spun in his arm and gaped at him. “I’m sorry!”

Jason sighed heavily and lowered his head. “Holy crap, I’ve never had such a hard time getting a girl to go out with me.”

“You wanna go out with me?” She pointed to herself despite her flustered state. “W-with me?” she gave him a dubious look. “Really? M-me?”

“Well, if you wanna hit me a fourth time to be sure, go ahead, but yeah,” he retorted then heaved another sigh. “Jeez, talk about getting hit on.”

(Y/N) spluttered at that. “I did not hit on you!”

“Right, you just hit me instead.”

“It was an accident! And I said I was sorry!”

Jason grinned at her and arm away. “Well, I’ll accept your sorry’s if you go on a date with me.”

She blinked at him. “A date? When?”

“Tonight.” He said. “There’s a bookstore down in the town square for insomniacs. Open until seven A.M. and serves a mean cup of hot cocoa.” Jason smiled and took her hand. “So? How ‘bout it, doll? Wanna go out with me tonight?”

All she could do was simply stare at this gorgeous man that obviously had a thing for her for some god forsaken reason. “Why?” she asked blankly, and he seemed to falter at that.

“Why what?” he repeated, confusion etching across his face.

“Why do you wanna go out with me?” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “I’m weird.”

“So am I.” he agreed.

“I stutter a lot.”

“So does my brother.”

“I don’t talk a lot. I don’t like talking a lot. People get mad at me when I talk a lot and I prefer to listen and you’re not going to like going out with me because I’m going to be super quiet because I get flustered easily and I—”

Jason put his hand over her mouth and stared at her. “Do you ever take a breath?” she nodded silently, and he sighed. “Look, (Y/N), it’s only taken getting shoved in the stomach with a book, getting punched with my own hand, and getting nut-shot to understand that you’re not exactly comfortable with the public.”

He removed his hand. “That’s why I invited you to the bookstore. Because even in the few weeks we’ve known each other, I know you like quiet places. But if you don’t feel comfortable going with me right now, that’s okay. We can take it slow.” Jason smiled at her. “Doll, all I wanna be is somebody to you.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked at her feet, whispering, “I…don’t wanna go out right now…but I’d like to give you my number…if you’re okay with that?” she shrugged. “We can text.” Feeling hopeful she reached out and placed her hang on his arm. “And get to know each other better? Maybe tell each other our favorite books? That’s…the best way in my opinion.”

His face lit up and he murmured, “I’d love that.” He pulled out his phone, tapping at it before he handed it over to her. “Here you go.”

She took it and looked at the contact name he’d already put in. My Flustered Doll. She glared at him. “You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Jason? You’re not. At all.”

He smirked. “Oh, is that so?” She nodded and he quipped, “We’ll just see about that then.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and typed in her number, handing him back his phone. “There you go.” He glanced at it, seemingly satisfied before he locked it and put it back in his pocket, then they met each other’s gazes and she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder. “I’m going home now.”

Jason caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “See you later, doll. Stay cute.”

She was hurrying off again, his laughter in her ears, unaware that their exchanging of numbers was going to evolve into so much more in the coming months.

***

“—And I’m pretty sure I can never show my face again at school, Jay. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

He hummed, fingers gently dipping into her spine. “Well, this is coming from the girl that nut-shotted be in the middle of a busy bookstore.”

“Why would you remind me about that?” (Y/N) scowled. “It was an accident.”

“And yet it can’t be more mortifying than telling a guy to shove his head up his ass.” He retorted, eyes still closed as they basked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “This is at least a five on the ten scale.”

“More like a hundred.” She muttered, tucking her head under his chin. “I can’t believe I said that to him. Oh, I was just so—just so mad at what he said about my poem! He was just being mean!” (Y/N) gripped his sweatshirt. “You understand right?”

Jason nodded, his other hand resting at her hip. “Mhm.”

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?” she frowned. “Everyone else thinks I am.”

“Telling someone that their poetry isn’t good because it isn’t iambic pentameter isn’t following constructive criticism, doll. It’s called being a douche.” She giggled and he bent his neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Call me next time Lord Douche-Canoe starts on your poetry again and I’ll school him on face-time.”

(Y/N) giggled again and rolled over, pressing them chest to chest and she grinned when he whined at her moving. “Thank you, Jason.”

He smiled at her. “I only take my thanks in kisses. Sorry, doll.”

Rolling her eyes, she bent down and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against him, and he hummed, hands grasping her hips.

“I love you more.”

“Nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” he scoffed, pulling back to look at her. “I am willingly in a relationship with the girl who nut-shot me in—MMHPF!”

(Y/N) shoved a pillow into his face, face hot as she shouted, “Stop bringing that up! It was an accident!” All she got in return was his laughter.

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anothermansjeans · 3 years

Note

19 for the meet cutes bestie

thanks for the prompt bestie <3 sorry it’s a little shitty lmao

prompt: You see your favorite book on their desk during class and ask them about it afterwards.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

word count: 703

50 meet cute prompts | masterlist

You never thought there would be a day in your life where you actually paid attention in your applied psychology class— but here you were, focused on the river of words running from the guest lecturer’s mouth.

When you heard that “Dr. Spencer Reid” was coming to guest lecture your class about psychology in criminal justice, you were expecting some old, stuffy man who still believed it was the 1920s (much like your current professor), not some 20-something years old who was not only seemingly a genius, but quite handsome. And you wish that was all you found to admire about him but no, when you looked down at the desk where his satchel lay, you noticed a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo (one of your favorite books) sitting there, very worn out and obviously read over fifty times.

You could daydream about this man— you would daydream about this man if time hadn’t run up in class.

“And that’s about it. If anyone has any other questions you’re welcome to come up and ask them.”

You definitely had some questions, some that could benefit your career a lot and others… not so much, but when you went up to him all of the more career appropriate ones seemed to have vanished out of thin air, and you choked out “how far into it are you?”

He looked confused, or scared, oh god, you scared the poor guy.

“How far into… what?”

After he asked the question you could finally see why anyone with a single brain cell may have found that weird, and you wanted to crawl in a hole and shrivel up and never go into society again. But you couldn’t really do that at the moment. You had to suffer, and because of that, you let out a nervous laugh, motioning to the book.

“The, uh, the book. It’s one of my favorites and I know it’s yours because Dr. Andrew’s wouldn’t be caught dead reading anything other than the course textbooks.”

His eyes lit up this time— you liked that look on him— and he nodded his head, picking it up.

“I actually only started it about thirty minutes before I got here,” he started, flipping over to a page in the book, “so I’m only up to where Edmond finds the treasure on the Isle of Monte Cristo.”

When he looked back at you he looked scared, again. Your eyes had been bugging out, all wide with your jaw dropped.

“That’s like, halfway through the whole timeline of the book.” You stopped for a moment, watching him nod his head before continuing. “I’m a twenty-three years old grad-student who takes a month— at least— to read a book of that size. Are you some grand-wizard with magic reading powers?”

There was a light blush on his as he cleared his throat and began to speak. “I’m uh, only twenty-five, and I can read twenty-thousand words per minute.”

The jaw-dropping face you’ve made once before has found its way back. “That’s like… hot.” You hadn’t even realized what you said until he let out a cough and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Um… thank you?”

Trying to suppress the smile sneaking onto your face, you gave a quick nod, “you’re… welcome.”

There was a pause of silence between the two of you as you looked around the room, seeing as everyone already left.

“I should actually get going.” You started, giving your bag one last glance to make sure everything was in it. “I got a class across campus in fifteen minutes and I didn’t even get to ask you the real questions I had in mind.”

He solemnly nodded in understanding before perking up, grabbing a small card from his satchel. “If you want to ask those questions later you’re free to call, or something like that.”

Taking the card, you gave him a small smile. “Something like getting a coffee, maybe?”

“That uh, yeah, that sounds really good.”

As he returned your smile, you held up the hand that was holding his card, giving him a small wave before leaving. Yeah, you definitely never thought you’d get this out of your applied Psychology class.

permanent taglist: @ssa-m-187 @openheart12 @boxofsparklingmuses @averyhotchner @roseallanpoe @hey-there-angels @muffin-cup @imhreid @spenxerslut @cal-ifornication @altsvu @willowrose99 @reidingmelodies @madswonders @luvofyourlifeliv @spencers-dria @reidyoulikeabook @coffeeandendlesswords @alltooreid @laurakirsten0502 @reblogsoffanfics @spencerreid9

spencer reid x reader taglist: @goose-eats-god

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#it’s def not my best but i haven’t written like this in forever </3 #sorry if the count of monte cristo isnt your fav book #i literally just needed to pick a book and that’s the first one that came to mind #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #anne marie answers

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batwngs-archive · 3 years

Note

What intimacies does Jason (or any batboy) share with his s/o? It can be sexual or non sexual

WARNING(S): brief mentions of injury NOTE: ik this wasn’t a prompt/request but I see the word intimacy and go nuts, so I hope u enjoy this random little thing (inspired by one of @angelz-dust‘s headcanons!) I was actually planning to share a love languages hc for Jason, similar to what I did for Dick, that kind of answers ur ask better (at least in the way that I would’ve answered it), I'll try to get that finished for u soon :)

“The comedies are the worst.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” you said. “The comedies are fun and they’re just as complex as the tragedies.”

You followed closely behind Jason in conversation through the stacks and shelves of the quaint bookstore, each overflowing with their uncovered, inky words. The bookstore, shadowed away in the corners of Gotham’s bustling, moving life, was one you had discovered some months ago in search for a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo that Jason had mentioned once before. He always talked about the books he’s read time and time again, how their stories filled him with something close to ease and how you would love them just as much as he did.

Usually, on lovingly chilly early winter days like this, you and Jason would stay in. Your apartment became the place the two of you spent the most time at together, becoming a haven of sorts from the woes and stresses from the world outside. Jason always preferred staying in and spending time doing small things with you like cleaning, eating, living; he liked that neither of you had to perform for one another, that you both could be comfortable and true. It was a change of scenery, to go from the cushioned warmth of your living room to the brazen winter cold before entering the caramel-like sticky warm of the bookstore; from laying on your couch, limbs entangled, to waltzing in and out of the stacks until every corner of this bookstore was touched by the two of you and to share the hidden gems tucked away.

It was simple change too, but love shined brightest in these kinds of gentle; at least, whatever kind of love Jason’s heart bled into yours, you knew it to be as simple as it is to sift through sand in search of shells stretched out by the sea’s distant touch and when found, pulling them into the light— his heart: a pearl.

“The comedies aren’t as fun as you think they are,” Jason insisted, scoffing at your words. “They don’t have the depth and drama that both the tragedies and histories have. You don’t go to a comedy if you’re looking for regicide and revenge plots or even the soliloquies on mortality. And the pirates! You know how many pirates there are in the tragedies and histories?— Antony and Cleopatra, Pericles, Henry IV Part 2, Hamlet-”

“Twelfth Night. And Pericles is technically a comedy.”

He rolled his eyes playfully in response and turned his back towards you to study the aging books that lay on the wooden shelves opposite from you. Even with his back facing you, you could tell he was relaxed. His back wasn’t as stiff with the tension he carried for some weeks now and the brief view of his face that was in eyesight looked youthful: his eyes cast downward at the books, his glossy ink-colored eyelashes shielded his vision from anything that distracted him from a chance at momentary peace. You saw him pick at books familiar to him, his hand wavering at their edges as he pulled them from their place and flipped to the pages he kept close in his mind, rereading those words again and again before moving onto the next book he loved once. He seemed to thrive in the familiarity of things, the comfort of those words, old friends, on his tongue.

You turned to face your own shelves stacked with books upon books. Browsing through the collection of used cloth-bounds and paperbacks, you glossed the spines with your finger, as if touch could teach you all. If only it was that simple. Jason has read all these books, you’re sure: the Keats, the Shelley, the Shakespeare, the Milton, the Austen, even the Whitman; he may have even memorized their words and meanings. He knew so much, about everything and anything, while you were left with little. Simply touching all these books wouldn’t surmount to the knowings Jason committed himself to.

It’s true, though, you didn’t know much about Shakespeare— nowhere near the breadth of Jason’s knowledge— or any of his other favorites, but you did know how he looked when he read through those familiar pages while lounging on your couch or how he looked when he would tell you about the scenes on those pages. You knew that whatever books were out there, unread and unwritten, this feeling that burned your skin was better than its fiction.

You picked at the books that caught your eye from the shelves in front of you, mirroring Jason’s actions. Was it wrong to want to be as close to him in thought and touch? To hear his voice, passionate and relaxed as some sort of gateway to his being?

“Jason,” you said, grabbing his attention away from the book he was absorbed in. “Thoughts?”

You handed him the book you had pulled from the shelves, it’s inviting shades of green magically moving across the worn paperback cover. Jason moved to take it from your hand, holding it gently within his grasp as if it would wither away into dust, yet just as firmly as if it would leap away from him. He was quiet in thought, studying the cover and title, brushing his thumb gingerly along its spine, tempting to open its pages right then and there to unleash secrets and memories. His silence made you nervous— did he think your choice foolish?

“Midsummer,” Jason finally voiced, contemplative yet slightly amused. He looked up from the book in his hand, locking eyes with you. “It’s a comedy.”

“Jason,” you quipped, your voice betraying your attempt at seriousness with a hushed chuckle breaking the caramel atmosphere of the store. He smiled back and you felt your smile grow even more.

“It’s a good comedy, one of the better ones, I think.” He thumbed across the binded pages of the book, rubbing the edges of each page as if its feel could make him remember its words, its scenes, its life was lived. For all you knew, it probably did. It was like he was studying the cover and the blur of ink and coffee-stained pages, trying to make sense of his thoughts hidden between the pages, between the grains of sand.

“All the comedies center the theme of love, but this one feels different,” he continued. “It’s more imaginative, dream-like even, but irrationally close to it. Being so blinded and fogged from reason that you’re just transported into a dream. You’ll probably be left dreaming up feelings and fleeting moments while running wild in a forest because of how irrational love leaves you. Some kind of love got them like that, maybe that’s why it was so funny. Even one of the characters says that love’s blind, irrational, makes you kind of stupid.”

He continued on with his words, ranting about the complexities and intricacies of Shakespeare’s comedy, and yet all you could focus on was his lips. They were a little chapped from the winter’s raging cold, but the words just flowed out with such ease and eloquence, like he was reciting poetry to you right there in the middle of that little Gotham bookstore. And his eyes: how they glistened under the store’s lights— the evening’s setting sun kissing the river goodnight, the moon embracing her good morning. You knew that Jason felt every word he quoted to you, believed every syllable he uttered, lyrics to a song he only wanted you to hear. And how true you felt those words were too, for all you could think about at that moment was how much you achingly loved him and how that itself has ruined you— ruined him; both ruined by the shifting, ever-growing movements of your love.

While he was talking, on the moon’s presence within the play, you noticed a subtle shift in him: a sudden sharp inhale punctuating his words followed by slight winces and controlled, discreet twitches in his eyes. He was in pain and uncomfortable— and he was trying to bury it from you.

But you knew him in all his hidden pain and joy. You’ve seen all his slights and sighs before on those countless nights spent with him sprawled out in bruises and cuts on your couch, dying its light fabric a deep wine.

“I’m fine,” he would say in such a hushed tone to hold back the pain he was truly feeling in that moment. Our bodies often betrayed our words. It was those near-winter nights where he would bite the inside of his cheek while his eyes were closed, eyebrows scrunched and tightly knit together as you tried to patch up his bloody wounds. That same sharp inhale, that same slight wince, and that same subtle twitch and flinch weren’t unnoticed by you, even as you worked on stitching his arm. It was a gut reaction he would want you to think, but you knew it wasn’t.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed that those aches of his persisted for days after. It effected so much of his life: from the slow, careful steps he’d take to walk from the kitchen sink to the coffee table in front of your couch; the gentle yet struggled attempts he’d make to get out of your bed some cold mornings when you were supposed to be asleep and tucked away in your dreams. You thought it was related to his injuries, the wounds— the fresh cuts and scrapes colored with bruises— sustained from his nights out. It was something more deep-seated and piercing, though; he’s always been so much, maybe too much, that the weight of it all was crushing him slowly and burning him raw. The frigid weather, cruel in its moments, hurt him even more. Yet despite the pain you knew he felt loudly and suddenly during Gotham’s cruel winters, he was silent about it all as if you wouldn’t take notice in the subtlety of his changed, more rigid, movements. You loved him too much, more than you were willing to voice, to not see through his silence.

He might try and hide his pain because it’s easier than making you worry, that it’s something he can handle on his own, but that’s the tricky thing with how you felt about him— you couldn’t help but throw glimpses at the windows and doors of your apartment, hoping and waiting for him to walk into your day again and again. And you couldn’t watch as he held his frozen hurt by himself.

You reached out to him, stretching over the short distance of the dusty bookstore until your hand met his. His hand was icy and rough, sending a shiver through you. You gently pried his hand from the book he was still holding onto, carefully wrapping your hand around his. Whatever it took, you were going to melt him a river right there in the bookstore: he will be loved warm.

“I guess what Shakespeare was trying to get at was that lov-,” he paused and suddenly turned his attention from the book’s cover to you, the feel of your warmth against his chilled and torn hand most likely the reason. Jason looked at you with such confusion and shock, motionless in the aisle as you felt the cold from his hands slowly melt away. You swiped your thumb across the center of his hand as your fingers squeezed his palm. You gazed upon his face, his mouth slightly ajar, urging him to continue what he was saying; maybe love was about freezing moments just as much as it was about slowly warming hearts. “Uh, that lo- that love can feel like a dream.”

You brought your other hand to his, continuing the gentle rubs and strokes as to massage away the cold-kiss pain. He shifted his gaze from your face to glance at your hands wrapped around his. If this was a dream, even a frenzied, irrational blindness, you never wanted it to end.

“So, no pirates?” you asked softly as a kind smile gingerly broke out onto your face. You kept on with the gentle rubs and squeezes of his hand; you didn’t want to let his hand go, not just yet.

He looked at you with such gentleness, lost in your eyes almost, bewildered and awed: “No pirates.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc x reader #pen to paper

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