welcome to @luvmailing's side blog! hiiii! i'm valentine (he/she/it) and this blog is where i'll be putting my fic snippets, wips, and unfinished work. nothing i'm too proud of, nothing all that long or serious, but stuff i'll post for fun anyway.
the main tags:
#written by val! – fics ‘n hcs i’ve made!
#valentine's rambles – i ramble abt stuff :p
#val's 💭 – fic related ideas or concepts that aren't fleshed out, throwaway posts
feel free to send in requests! i can't promise i'll come up with something for all of them (it's gonna be inactivity central over here), but i'll definitely try :-]
keep in mind that even though i'm 18+, i don't write nsfw/smut or kink/fetish content. see my main for more details on requesting if you're interested <3
「 tws + notes: gn!reader, romantic relationship weirdstyle, unedited awkward inexperienced reader, brief mentions of cannibalism, bad kissing 」
↳ ft. waylon jones/killer croc
author's note: this is so disgustingly self indulgent that i need to post this on the side blog. i need you all to not look at me for weeks after this one ok? ok.
"This downpour's probably gonna make us radioactive," you murmur, squinting as you look up at the darkened sky.
The rain in Gotham is borderline terrifying given the city's colourful history of various substances polluting the waters. You sincerely hope that none will be leeching through your skin and into your bloodstream after being drenched like this, caught in a heavy rain with no sign of ending. A clap of thunder in the distance instinctively makes you step a little closer to your companion.
It's late. You'd give an estimate of "somewhere in the unholy hours past midnight" considering you've sort of lost track of the time. But you know for certain that you can count on most normal people to be asleep by now, which means Waylon Jones — Killer Croc, as he's more commonly known — is standing by your without fear of attracting too much attention.
He's vaguely entertained by you, you'd like to think. It's the only reason that he lets you visit the sewers to chat and waste his time, the reason he's walking you home now, in the middle of a thunderstorm, at this ungodly, unknown hour of the night — you must be good entertainment. It's a funny conclusion to reach considering you don't get along with most people you stumble across. Not that you mind. You've have found yourself quite fond of your new friend, the wanted cannibal criminal. Maybe too fond.
"You know, I've always wanted to do one of those Hollywood kisses in the rain. Shit probably sucks." You're beginning to ramble. It's a charming habit, sure, but it's clear that you're just trying to ignore how your clothes are dripping with rainwater.
Waylon lets out a grunt, too used to listening to your tangents to actually question whatever the fuck you're talking about. He's not telling you to shut up or anything, which is nice. You've really managed to draw out his soft side.
You continue after a beat, more contemplative as you say, "...but it must be great. Y'know, if they're doing it so often in the movies."
"...you askin' to try?"
You're unsure of what possesses you in the next moment. He leans down slightly and you're on the tips of your toes in an instant to meet him, his strong hands grasping at your waist to support you. It's all very sudden.
The actual contact of kiss is clumsy — less of the soft press of lips meeting that you had always dreamt of, and more of an awkward collision of your faces. You think you're being suave when you attempt to slowly easing the kiss into an opened mouthed one — slipping tongue is fine, right? — but what you really end up doing is... less cute. Ignore the fact that your tongue totally missed the seam of his mouth and somehow travelled to his cheek. Yikes.
You pull away after the blunder, but Waylon freezes in place. Suddenly, you're both stuck, unable to fully leave each other's grasp, but also now unable to meet each other's eyes. You're ashamed and soaked — not in the aroused sense, either.
"...I—" Your face feels several degrees above the normal temperature as you fumble for words, "I'm sorry."
"The fuck was that s'posed to be?"
"A kiss!" You defend, managing to pull away finally. You tug the hood of your jacket over your head needing to hide yourself away — preferably forever after that) — because God, that was the worst kiss you've given. EVER. Not like you've had a long history of kissing people to begin with, but you've never licked across anyone's face before.
To your surprise (and mild horror) he snorts. Waylon could be mad about it — all that subtle "oh, wouldn't a kiss in the rain be nice?" and flirting for a terrible, failed make-out — but your awful kissing skills are now being laughed at.
"Y' gotta say sorry to everyone y' ever kissed if ya kissed 'em like that. 's like you were tryin' to eat my face."
"Hey! that's— that's not fair! You literally eat peoples faces!"
"12 stepped my way outta that habit years ago."
"Seriously?"
"Nah."
Your knee-jerk instinct to laugh lands you with the response of a very undignified, "HAH—!" before you manage to shut yourself up, mortified with the situation that only seems to worsen every time you open your goddamn mouth.
And now the silence. You're at Waylon's side, getting drenched by the rain, this time hoping that some sort of toxin in the Gotham water would poison you and finish you off.
Your little train of thought is interrupted by Waylon's voice, gravely and quiet.
"Still got plenty of rain. don't seem like it'll be stoppin'," he comments, shielding his eyes with a clawed hand to stare up at the pitch black, stormy sky.
"Uh-huh," you reply dumbly, trying not to veer the conversation into anything else.
"Couldn't hurt to try again — proper this time."
Waylon glances back at you — you and your shivering, rain-soaked, pitiful form — and grins at you, his sharp teeth on full display. It might've been menacing to anyone else, but your heart races instead.
"Are you…" your voice catches in your throat when you ask, searching for any sign of mockery in his face, "…are you sure?"
i wanna go on a bender tonight, but i wanna be good for you baby.
(aka thoughts abt kara picking up hungover reader after a night out of drinking and questionable decisions. mentions of vomiting and hangovers. supergirl movie.. oughhh....)
there's no judgement, a whole lot of understanding, and a gentle moment of her rubbing your back as you throw up on the sidewalk.
she'll get you home safely and swears that she won't drop you on the flight back as you cling to her, all terrified and shaky. her strong arms tighten around you, holding you a little closer when she realizes that words aren't quite working to settle your nerves right now.
"what? you actually think i'm gonna drop you?"
even with your face buried in her shoulder, you swear she's smiling about it.
waking up with a splitting headache is made a little easier when you realize kara actually stuck around. she returns to your bedroom with a weird hangover cure she swears by — probably something she learned from an alien planet during her birthday week bender — and hands it over with no explaination of the mystery concoction in the glass.
"it's nasty but it works like a charm. drink up."
she's casual about the whole situation, which helps to soothe your embarrassment (slightly), but the shame still causes your face to burn every time you glance her way. between sips of the strange bitter drink, you try to apologize for the state you're in — the state she found you in — but kara just shakes her head dismissively.
"it's fine. really. i've seen worse. a lot worse."
because if anyone knows what it's like to drink away the harrowing feeling of loneliness, it's her.
she just wants to make sure you know you're not actually alone.
「 tws + notes: gn!reader, established romantic relationship, unedited 」
↳ ft. edward nygma/the riddler, jervis tetch/mad hatter, jonathan crane/scarecrow,
author's note: i originally had a WHOLE LOT of characters i wanted to write for when it came to the lil waylon x reader drabble of book sharing.... these are essentially the leftovers of SOME of the other rogues that were gonna be in the og post before i let my love for waylon take over my body.
EDWARD NYGMA
✎ᝰ. pretentious without even trying to be. it seems to be an innate trait of his. given that being snobbish is nothing new for him, it naturally extends to his taste in literature.
with the care of his own books, i can imagine him being two ends of extremes but not anywhere in between.
✎ᝰ. he's either obsessed with keeping them pristine and taken care of — crack paperback spines properly so they don't end up bending weird and don't you DARE dog ear that page unless you want to be boyfriend-less — or he annotates the shit out of them because they're just the vessels for knowledge and learning, where the physical component isn't sacred, it's what you can get out of it.
✎ᝰ. will be doing more talking than you if you try to engage in conversation about books. he is, however, interested in what you're picking up in your spare time.
mainly because he absolutely will finish your books before you reach the end and spoil them if you get into petty arguments.
JERVIS TETCH
✎ᝰ. he thinks quiet reading time with you in the same room is very romantic. just the two of you, your favourite books, a warm cup of tea maybe… unfortunately, he is the LOUDEST "quiet" reader in the world. always giggling or muttering the words to himself without realizing until you point it out.
✎ᝰ. likes YOUR voice when reading. he'd be absolutely over the moon if you decided to humor him and read anything by lewis carroll, especially alice's adventures in wonderland because, of course. insists on reading the hatter's lines, naturally.
it might seem simple and inconsequential to you, but reading this book with his favourite person? i really does means the world to him. and he thought it wasn't possible to be more obsessed with you!
✎ᝰ. his book collection doesn't exactly have a dedicated shelf so everything ends up everywhere. you notice multiple versions of alice's adventures in wonderland, which should surprise absolutely no one. he's very particular about a few specific copies and will protect them with his literal life… but you're free to look at any of the others that interest you. just don't expect it to be easy to find anything. he's got his own system of organizing and it only makes sense to him.
JONATHAN CRANE
✎ᝰ. the legend of sleepy hollow will be a required reading in order for this relationship to work.
✎ᝰ. he is not opposed to non horror — he reads a lot of non fiction too — but it shouldn't surprise you that a majority of his collection is horror. i will be projecting and saying that gothic horror makes up a good chunk of it. those are typically what he reads for leisure. informative reads are usually academic articles about new studies, mostly pertaining to his area of expertise and interest.
✎ᝰ. his shelves are filled with older prints of books, usually. mostly well loved but not annotated, because he likes keeping his notes separate from the actual stories. beyond highlighting in some non-fiction texts or adding few tabs here and there, the yellowing pages are left unmarred by ink and graphite. you should be thankful for this if you ever borrow any, given that jonathan's handwriting is kind of indecipherable.
✎ᝰ. expect to find things sandwiched between pages. he doesn't mind if you want to browse his personal collection, but whatever you find isn't his fault. what did you expect? notes from previous experiments or old fear toxin formulas, the detail all clinical and grotesque at the same time — just ignore that, okay? move along.
✎ᝰ. might give you a book or two from his personal collection as a gift if you like it enough. this is how to do the whole affection thing, right?
i want that character so much i wanna kiss them Badly. not badly like desperately but a kiss where the mechanisms of the smooch aren't quite right and the actual contact is clumsy. but boy oh boy Love is in the. the mysterious fog emanating from my shadowy form.
ngl there is something very homoerotic about a man having a “right hand man” … he is a part of me, he is his own man but all his actions are for me or to further my goals. very dog and master coded.
james wesley being a control freak is true in my heart and very obvious,,, but i also think that he wants someone else to give him the permission to call the shots. i think a strange part of him always needs someone giving him the go ahead, needs to be told the directions before making sure that else everything falls into place to make it happen. he isn't really willing to examine why, but he likes being demanded around.
yes, this applies in his relationships and career.
james wesley being a control freak is true in my heart and very obvious,,, but i also think that he wants someone else to give him the permission to call the shots. i think a strange part of him always needs someone giving him the go ahead, needs to be told the directions before making sure that else everything falls into place to make it happen. he isn't really willing to examine why, but he likes being demanded around.
yes, this applies in his relationships and career.
(aka silly half baked thoughts abt jervis + a reader w/ a short fuse. vague allusions of hypnotism at the end cuz. y'know. jervis.)
jervis tetch, when he's more down the rabbit hole than usual, can deal with your temper just fine. he almost finds it amusing in a way — until you get personal, and in that case, he'll find ways to snark back. oh, he's got a temper too — he just happens to keep his under a flimsy facade of courteous and gentlemanly behaviour.
if he does try to go with the route of de-escalation, expect it to be done in a mildly condesending but well-meaning manner. he's more fond of distracting you to disarm you instead of immediately going toe-to-toe with you.
still, there are moments he can't resist prodding just a little. of course, until it grows stale. it's no fun and you're being all mean and nasty and "off with their head!"-ish. no, no, that won't do at all!
surprisingly forgiving if you feel guilty afterwards. more resentful if you're not. play nice or he'll remind you that he's got ways to make you.
now that you have the rest of the world, go see it.
⤷ we went out to the movie theaters and you were brought along. we didn't really like the movie — too much of this, too little of that — but we liked the time we got to spend together in the late hours. i think that was enough to make it better.
you snuck out at some point. managed to fall from the pocket, out to explore the world beyond the life you had. and before you left, maybe you thought you saw everything that was needed to be seen.
you saw prom. you saw graduation. you saw post secondary education and all the effort that goes into it, all those tireless nights for assignments and discussion posts due at 11:59 pm, all those tears shed while studying. and now you're gone.
i wonder what you could be up to now.
(aka a little complilation of things that my sibling's lost red hood figure could be out doing ever since we lost him. we miss you, jason! and they miss you the most.)
✮ you could be exploring the backrooms
i wonder if you liked the movie or thought the same things we did. did you stick around long enough to hear our thoughts? i think you would have laughed along with us. did you also type a scathing letterboxd review when we did? or did you think of it more fondly somehow?
are you there?
the walls might've simply betrayed physics, bending to your body, allowing you step into a stranger life. i wonder if your plastic hands traced the yellowing wallpaper to find the exit again, a way back home — but maybe the thought of returning wasn't on your mind. maybe you wanted go deeper, ready to witness all the things that we failed to.
you're brilliant, i'll tell you that. a real survivalist, given all the things you've gone through. do these liminal spaces look like a new thing to conquer? the endless, cyclical roads of unspoken loneliness and unsettling silence — do they call you? come back to tell us about it someday.
✮ you could be with somebody new
i wonder if a curious child picked you up. whether they know your name or not, i hope that they love you regardless.
your mask tends to betray nothing — you're clever in that way. but maybe, somewhere out there, small hands picked you up carefully, with all the cautious curiosity and affection of an excited stranger.
did new eyes, shining with unspoken promise, look down on you kindly?
you've never been good at lingering in a loving grasp. at least, i'm pretty sure of it. but let this one hold you. you've got places to explore and a new friend to see them with.
✮ you could be laying face down on the pavement
i wonder if we missed you. i wonder if somehow, you're waiting exactly where we left you, wondering when we'll return.
we had suspected the parking lot. and if we suspected right and somehow missed you entirely, i'm sure you've discovered it's hot outside. you're left to the mercy of the cars driving by, to the sweltering heat of the summer sun, to the hard concrete ground—
and i'm sorry if you were abandoned. if we were the ones who left, and not you. i'm sorry that abandonment has become a familiar feeling — but before you think "why weren't you there for me?" like you always do — i want you to know that even if you think we stopped looking, we never stopped missing you.
✮ you could be wandering the suburbs
it's the worst, in case you're somehow unaware. find out for yourself. nothing better to do in this place but leave, jason. i'll tell you that much.
after listening to this song literally The Moment i gained consciousness this morning i've been filled with the urge to write stuff for a fuckboy reader but i don't have the capacity for that messiness right now. unfortunately. i do too much crying and i've softened far too much recently!!!!! sigh.
anyways i just think he'd love it if his partner also enjoyed his taste in literature,,, like,,,, handing him a copy of one of his personal faves that u read and annotated??? i think he'd rly love that,,,,
i literally need waylon so bad it isn't even funny. caligula is literally on my tbr right now and the urge to pick it up has never been stronger.
bursting into tears mid makeout session is apparently not frequently written for. where my emotionally fucked up x readers at. i'm tryin to see sumn....
