"I'm Green Lantern. I'm a Hero."

Leche | 18 | she/her Inbox: open Requests: closed

[lechelovestoyap]

— You're A Ghost, and I Choke.

Leche/Ansie/A! she/her 18 South Asian Dc enjoyer lover of spring side quest fanatic Capricorn pinks and reds (esp Rani Pink!) Beabadoobee and Laufey and Lamp free palestine women's rights matter #1 Zoe defender and fan <3 @bloomcissa’s and @pixelbfs wife Requests: open to moots!

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[lechelovestoyap]

ROY REQUEST YIPPEE 🎉

Since we are all obssessed with cowboy!roy, how about something with reader getting sick and roy getting increasingly worried because the fever wont go away?

He changes the damp towel from her forehead every hour, wipes the sweat from her face and neck, and ends up hearing her frenzy, saying that he is perfect to marry if he keeps going like this 🤭

Hope you liked it <3

Haii Qinny!!! I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to this req omg!! Even though it's not identical to this request, I hope you like it!! It's here!

[lechelovestoyap]

In Sickness, Health, and Stealth

Pairing: Outlaw!Roy Harper x fem!reader Summary: In sickness and health. That is what he'd promised, and he'd make good on it. Though, he'd need to add stealth to that list, since the both of you are on the run yet again. CW: talk of sickness, fever, unconsciousness, death, maybe OOC WC: 1.67K

Leche's Note: Hi all, so sorry for the long break from this event!! I've been struggling a lot recently with personal issues + mental health, but I've missed interacting with everyone!!! Hope you all like this, bc there's more outlaw to loverboy roy to come!! Also, thank you @that-dumb-bunny for the request!! I loved it :3

In sickness and health. That is what he'd promised, and he'd make good on it. Though, he'd need to add stealth to that list, since the both of you are on the run yet again.

The Sickness had taken too many from town already. Roy knew, inevitably, it would finally strike you both too, in that little safehouse of his by the countryside. But when disaster hasn’t yet hit you, you believe you have all the time in the world. And now, he knew disaster had finally hit his own home, too.

It started with chills. You’d brushed it off, laughing softly about how he was taking this too seriously, that this would end soon. But soon never came, for you slowly slipped deeper and deeper into the clutches of the sickness, and farther and farther away from his hope.

So, he gathered you up, and ran. It was the only thing he knew how to do, really—run from all his problems, the law. Everything but you. So, he’d do what he does best, and hope that whatever gods existed would keep luck on your side.

Bundled up against the cold, he holds your cheek to his shoulder, shuddering softly while making sure you were as warm as he could physically keep you. His arm’s wrapped around your middle, the other tugging at Gingersnap’s reins, steering you both towards whatever nearby clinic he could find. 

He should’ve suspected his efforts would be futile, for nothing ever does work out in his favor. Not until he’d met you, at least. Was that why he’d been so trusting you’d be okay? Or was that his sheer desperation speaking? He wouldn’t know. 

Stopping by the small shack farthest from town, he drops to the ground, carefully bringing your bundled, sleeping body close to his, holding you up bridal-style while he trudges through the thick snow.

“Hey, doll. Ya gotta wake up, ‘kay? C’mon darlin’, stay awake for me.” He rasps, voice hoarse from disuse, and pats your cheek with his free hand, trying to force you awake again. You stir slightly, but it’s not enough. Your eyes won’t open, and you shudder, face buried in his neck to seep whatever warmth he had left in him.

“Please, doll, please. I’m beggin’ you.” He whispers, walking over to the nearest physician he can find, begging them to take you in. The first few refuse, but one agrees, and the sliver of hope is enough he needs to not collapse on the spot. Watching as you’re set down, cooled with a damp cloth, and made comfortable, some relief fills him.

Sitting down beside you, he holds your hand tightly, whispering prayers under his breath to gods he barely believed in. While he wouldn’t consider himself a religious man by any means, it was the only thing he could do apart from pulling his hair out that could ease the anxiety threatening to spill out of his being.

His hands squeeze yours, growing tighter when you show no signs of responding, even as hours pass by and the physician has already given you medicine thrice. What would he do if you didn’t wake up? He couldn’t bring himself to consider it as a possibility, even as the physician tries reasoning with him, seeing how cold it is outside, and how feeble you’d become in the span of mere hours.

But everything comes to a head an hour later, when some of the sheriff’s men come sniffing around the shack, holding up wanted signs of his face, asking around the sickly patients and staff if they’d seen him.

His heart drops. He could leave, and stay safe, but it would risk your life. He could stay, and he’d lose you anyways. This had to be a cruel game fate was playing with him this time, or better yet, a nightmare he could wake up from. But no matter how many times he pinched himself, he couldn’t feel himself awakening.

To make it worse, you groan softly, sweat beading your brow, making his hand instinctively wipe it away with his thumb. He washes your lashes flutter, your mouth opens briefly before swallowing thickly as though your throat were coated with honey, and for a moment, he feels time still.

It all comes back when he hears voices asking if they’d seen him, though. And in the heat of the moment, he makes a decision, one he’s sure will cost him. But he’s willing to do anything, if only to keep you safe. 

He had a vow to make good on, after all—in sickness and health, right? Well, he’d be adding stealth to the mix, but it only makes the game of life more fun, doesn’t it? That’s how he wants to look at it.

Picking you up, he tosses your limp body carefully over his shoulder, using his cloak to hide you both from view before bolting out the back door, the wood creaking against its hinges, making him cringe and hope that he wasn’t heard. 

Running out, he grabs Gingersnap’s reins, mounting the horse at once and steering himself towards the opposite direction, your head against his chest, blankets wrapped so tightly you could be called a mummy any moment now.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” He hisses under his breath, snapping the reins and holding you tighter, hearing the sounds of men scrambling onto their horses and hearing their screams for him to stop echoing in his ears.

But he couldn’t focus on them now. His sole duty was getting you out of here, and finding another physician to help with whatever this sickness was.

The hours blur together, inevitably. He’s been on the road with Gingersnap for god knows how long, his hand pressed against the side of your head, keeping you close. Murmuring soft nothings, he repeatedly kisses the top of your hair, mumbling about how you should get up now, to stop giving him a fright.

“Honey…please. Please, I’m beggin’ you, and you know I don’t do that. If you don’t get up, I’ll go mad. I know you’d call me that anyways, but I’ll take that if it’s from you. C’mon, doll, don’t leave me stranded here. I can’t do this without you…you know that. Please.” He rasps, holding onto your still frame, desperation clawing at his chest.

When he doesn’t even get a slight response, he panics, looking around for any sort of help. But there’s none. Every doctor around here had turned him down, refusing all his money from the risk they’d be taking with the law to help him. To help you.

But when Gingersnap suddenly whinnies, he’s quick to look up, realizing the men who’d been following him were finally catching up. He sighs, and curses under his breath, muttering about bad timing as he grabs the reins with one hand, clicking his tongue for his steed to pick up the pace again. 

Heading towards a dense forest, he pauses, glancing up at the damp, dark scenery around him. This place would give him enough cover from those lawmen, and he’d be able to focus on what really mattered—you. 

So, in the quiet of the trees surrounding you both, he stops, and dismounts from Gingersnap, patting the horse’s flank and tying her to a tree branch, before trudging off with you in his arms to go start a fire.

Sitting down alone with you against a tree, a small fire started, he’s finally able to breathe again. You’re so close to him, yet so far away. Far enough to make him feel like he was truly alone in the world, save for your quiet, shallow breaths.

It’s at that moment that the dread finally hits, wondering if you’d ever recover. What if you never woke up? Never smiled, or laughed, or mocked him? How could he live without you? He’d repeated his vows to you countless times already, joking about how he needed to practice them for the big day. But now? He may never get the chance to make it come true, to say it to you when it matters.

He doesn't know if he could live with that idea. If such a reality came true, would he be able to handle it? To live without you? He doubts it.

Glancing down at your face, he cups your cheeks, his breath fanning your face as he whispers one more time, hoping that, if he were close enough, you would be able to hear him, despite your raging fever. “Please. Please, you know I need you. Without you…I can’t see a future for myself. So wake up. We still need to get married, don’t we?” He says finally, eyes brimming with tears, his red hair drooping over his forehead, looking crestfallen.

To his shock, you stir. Barely, but it’s there. Choking on a breath, he pulls you impossibly closer, hands on your face as he taps you awake, soaking in the way your face scrunches up before relaxing in recognition, eyes glazed over with fever as you wake up.

You’d woken up. Seven hells, you’d woken up. Gasping, he buries your face in his chest, immediately bringing you into him, barely able to hold back sobs of relief at the sight of you waking up.

At the feeling of your hands clutching his shirt, confused, he struggles not to cry, looking back at you, with the most grateful expression you’ve seen from him. He looks relieved, no, more than that—like he’d been blessed by the heavens, just because you’d come out of your unconscious state.

“Roy? You…okay?” You ask hesitantly, hand coming up to cup his cheek, a weak smile forming on your lips as he immediately leans into your touch, before bringing you into a sharp kiss, sickness be damned.

When you pull back, his eyes shine with unshed tears, and he barks out a laugh, which comes out more as a wet sob. “I am, now that you’re here.” He says, sniffling and wiping your tears away with his thumbs, pulling you back into a tight hug, as if to confirm you’re really here.

Everything else could be a problem for later, because right now? With you? Nothing else mattered. Not when he’d finally gotten back his lucky charm.

Please do not copy, steal, or put my works into AI. Consider supporting me through commissions! Leche's Mailbox. Taglist: @luviery, @pixelbfs, @cosmicasteroid, @bloomcissa, @starr-jazz, @nicndick, @batwngs, @zarsghost, @only-dot-nicky, @cinnamon-girl-writes, @milkybbun, @nightwingblvd, @smllvlle, @splodencible, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @stilestotherescue, @sowhatifimslow, @patientofarkhamasylum

[lechelovestoyap]

(Un)steady

Pairing: Wally West x gn!reader Summary: You were both bad for each other. It was time to put an end to this chapter of your lives. CW: implied sex, mdni, crappy relationships (or situationships?) WC: 0.6K

Leche's Note: Hey...hi it's me again I'm back. I have more fics planned I swear, but I promise I'll be more consistent :p

“Are you leaving?” The words tumble out of his lips before he can stop himself from asking, eyes watery from your argument. Which one, he wants to ask. You’d both been arguing the past few weeks, and tonight it’d finally reached its boiling point. Both of you knew that, at least. That…whatever this was, it wouldn’t work.

You nod slowly, turning back to face him on his porch, the rain hitting hard enough to startle you a little bit. How ironic—usually when it rained, it meant you’d end up in his arms again. Crossing your arms over your chest, you look him up and down. God, he was a mess.

His fiery red hair looked almost as ashen as his face, features crumpled into a frown so pathetic you almost consider going right back to him. You couldn’t, you knew that too. That going right back to his bed meant you’d repeat this cycle all over again, and you couldn't go through that again. No matter how many times he swears this time would be different.

“I have to, Wally. We’re not…we’re not good for each other.” You tell him quietly, your voice breaking him out of his spiralling thoughts. You still looked good. Good in a messed up, tired way, which hurt his heart even more. All he wanted was to pull you back into his orbit, to keep you with him. But as Mercury circles the Sun, he knows you’d eventually burn in his heat, and you’d both end up here all over again.

“Please. We have to try, don’t we? I know I’ve been fucking shitty but—” He chokes, voice wavering as he finally buries his face in his hands, trying to contain all his emotions again. You were leaving. You were leaving, after spending all of last night in his bed, claiming you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. How could you? How could you be selfish enough to pull away when things stopped working, but come right back to him when it settles down again?

You move, but hesitate, hands about to reach for his face, to soothe his worries. Steeling yourself, you pull back again, hands balling into fists to stop yourself from grabbing him, from falling right back into your normal rhythm. Normal. How could this possibly be normal? Normalcy usually doesn’t entail arguments and burnout. 

Shaking your head again, you scoff, stepping back, closer to the pouring rain than him. The weather is humid, but the chill hits you faster than you’d like. You look at him one more time, memorizing his features. His green eyes, his shaggy hair, the freckles that threatened to take over his entire face.

“I have to leave. We…this is for the best, West.” You murmur, trying not to tear up, brows scrunched together in your effort to stick to your decision. Part of you wanted to say his name one more time, to memorialize it on your tongue. But it felt bitter in your mouth, and you knew like a fly to honey, you’d end up back in his arms again, so you couldn’t do this. You also knew, in the long run, this would be for the best. So, you finally get off his porch, walking into the cold of the night, even with the rain pouring hard.

He watches, one last time, from his porch. And for the first time since you’d both begun circling each other, he knows you’ll never climb up his front steps, never enter his house, or his bed again. He just has to hope it’ll be alright in the end.

Please do not copy, steal, or put my works into AI. Consider supporting me through commissions! Leche's Mailbox. Taglist: @cinnamon-girl-writes, @smllvlle, @splodencible, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @stilestotherescue, @sowhatifimslow, @nightwingblvd, @vianawaits, @pixelbfs

[lechelovestoyap]

giving everyone a super power tonight :p you can now read anything instantly just by touching it...what's the first thing you're reading

hmmm I wanna read ALL the kyle and wally comics instantly...challengers coded fic of them is loading :3

[lechelovestoyap]

hi guys!! sorry for dropping off the face of the earth (again). life got in the way. here's what you can expect to see from me in the next week-ish:

Roy Harper x reader 400 event fic

Jason Todd x reader req (from my pookie @gr0und-zer00)

Bruce Wayne x reader req (from the lovely @luviery)

Kyle Rayner x reader 400 event fic

Roy Harper x reader req (from my wife @cherryvvave and its brutal)

[batwngs]

since we’ve had a lot of news about “ai in the lit world” this week (literally three separate instances) im just going to reiterate that i don’t support the use of ai, i will never support a writer that uses ai (even as ‘tool’ for research), and i will always be loud and annoying about its use in artist spaces

on the same note, i also am against the ai witch hunt that specifically happens in social media spaces; if you suspect ai, cite your claims before harassing people pls. ai is already such a fucking drag let’s not go around pushing artists out of creating and sharing their work

[lechelovestoyap]

Burning Lungs and Bloodshot Eyes

Pairing: Kyle Rayner x fem!reader Summary: Kyle and you had separated because of his inability to maintain a work-life balance. But, fate has a way of drawing him back to you, and he finds himself with you once again. CW: mild suggestiveness, implied smut, MDNI, angst, drinking WC: 3.16K

Leche's Note: This is the first fic from my 400 followers event!! I'm so excited to write this series omg (losing my mind actively). I hope you guys like this one, it's a bit longer than my normal fics!! also thank you @pixelbfs for reading this over and letting me yap to you about this for like a week

He’d really done a number on you, huh?

Looking around at the empty, dark space of your old shared house, he finds himself placing shards of glass in a box, hands shaking as he places them piece by piece, trying desperately to not look at the ruined photograph of the two of you once framed.

He stands, a wave of heat and nausea pressing down on his back, and steps out to the back porch, staring at the half-dying garden you’d planted. Memories flood through him against his will, and he finds himself stepping down to the patch of soft soil, standing in front of the wilting white carnations. 

“Kyle, look! Aren’t they pretty? Ma says these ones are for everlasting love.” Your voice echoes, practically slamming around in his skull, like you were desperate to get away from him even then. In his mind’s eye, he can still see you kneeling there, soil dirtying that new summer yellow dress he’d insisted on buying you. Your hands were all muddy, and there was a smudge of dirt on your cheek.

His hand moves, twitching, like it’d done once when he’d wiped it off you with his thumb, earning a flush from you, watching your mouth go dry as you huffed and sputtered at him for being too charming.

Where was that charm, he wondered, when you’d packed up and left, sobbing about how he’d been working himself to the bone, how you couldn’t handle no more nights alone.

Snapping himself out of his daze when the front door’s knocked on, his legs move him back into the house, though his gaze remains transfixed on the sight of those wilting white carnations, dying like his love.

Opening the front door, he’s greeted with another unwanted sight. Hal stands in front of him, boots clicking against the wooden steps to the front of his house, a toothpick being fiddled with absentmindedly until their gazes meet. How he wished they hadn’t.

“Rayner, there you are! Y’know, you had me worried ya wouldn’t answer the door! C’mon out buddy, look, I even got you somethin’ good!” Hal says, holding up two bottles of beer, practically forcing his way into the house.

So this wasn’t even work-related, huh? Usually, Hal tended to keep his distance, separating them when it came down to the nitty gritty details. Why the sudden change of heart, Kyle wouldn’t understand.

Still, he lets him in, sighing and shutting the door behind the older man, muttering to him to take his damned boots off first. Biting his tongue, he resists the urge to say his fiance wouldn’t like it. After all, he didn’t have a fiance now, did he?

“What’re you doing here, Hal? This ain’t for a job, is it?” He asks, sitting down on his armchair, watching Hal crack open the cans against the side of the dining table, wincing when it leaves an obvious mark that Hal just brushes off.

“Nah, this is a Jordan-special, kid. You’re lucky, not many people ever get to witness this!” He laughs, making Kyle’s mood only sour further, the look on his face only wavering further between anguish and irritation. 

Kyle lets out a mocking, suffering sigh, reaching out to take the cold bottle and downing a few gulps before the older man can question it. He’d need it to even hold a conversation tonight, pleasantries be damned.

“She left.” He finally admits, tears in his eyes as he meets Hal’s gaze, watching the man sit opposite to him. That was your spot, once. You’d hated it, wanting to be closer to him, but he’d resisted, claiming he wanted to be able to see your every expression, your every movement. All of you, he’d once told you, practically begging to keep you in that spot as he painted you with the cheap hardware store supplies on an old scrapped canvas.

Hal’s expression drops, and he sighs, relaxing his shoulders as he takes a swig of his own beer, looking at Kyle with an expression akin to pity. Not that Kyle was looking back at him anymore, too busy wiping his eyes against his sleeve, coughing as he drank more.

“I know. I know, I—” He cuts himself off momentarily, wondering if it was the right time to bring this up. Biting the inside of his cheek, he stares at Kyle one more time, giving him a once-over, his expression crumpling further at the sight of him so distraught.

He looked like he was a husk of himself, really. Of course, Hal remembered how he’d spoken of you, like you were his sun. Like he would forever be okay, revolving around you, being with you.  You were his everything, his very essence. At least, that’s how he’d made it sound. At that time, he’d thought the young lad was exaggerating. Who really worships someone that much, like they’re the core of their very being?

Kyle had, apparently. He’d loved you so deeply Hal knows it must be like his heart had been ripped out and tossed aside, and he’d felt so fiercely for you Hal also knew that this wasn’t a fleeting sort of love.

No, knowing the young man, he’d probably love you forever. And that would be his very undoing, wouldn’t it?

Leaning forward onto his elbows, Hal sucks in a sharp breath, before snapping his fingers a few times to get Kyle’s attention. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, Rayner. Us? We ain’t meant for love, and you know it. Snap…snap out of this. For your sake and mine, forget about her, okay? She’s not coming back.” Kyle chokes on a sob, looking up at Hal like he’d personally dug that dagger into his chest and twisted it aggressively. Shaking his head, he tries to deny it, but no words come to his mind. So, he instead slowly nods and slumps into his senior, gripping onto the front of his shirt and sobbing into his chest.

“I—what will I do without her?” He asks, sniffling, pulling back as Hal digs through his satchel and hands Kyle a bounty poster, a faint smile on his lips as he pats Kyle’s shoulder sympathetically.

“You’ll work yourself ta the bone—it’s what worked when Carol and I broke up.” Hal shrugs, and Kyle’s brows furrows, staring up at him like he’d grown three heads. “You’re always breakin’ up though.” He deadpans, and Hal’s grin only widens, smoothing back Kyle’s hair to make him seem more presentable.

“I know. Maybe you and yer little lady could be like that, someday. But you’ve got to snap out of this, kid. For everyone’s sake.” He huffs, and Kyle slowly nods in agreement, rubbing his face with his hand and holding the bounty in the other, gulping when he realizes it was in your hometown. He’d be in for one hell of a week if you were actually staying there, right? Not like he could tell Hal that, though.

Getting out of the house for the first time since you’d left felt…oddly pleasant, even if it only increased the stinging pain in his chest. Maneuvering his horse towards your hometown, he maps out his path, patting his steed out of thanks.

The journey takes hours, though it’s all worth it when he manages to make it before nightfall. Only, every single bed and breakfast, inn, and anything remotely resembling a motel shuts him out, claiming they’re full for the night. Confused, he mounts his horse again, clicking his tongue and slowly moving through town. Why were people turning him down? Did they know about your history or something? 

Nervously, he moves down the familiar path to your old home, and stops in front of the little brick path up to your house. He pauses, unsure of what to do. One night couldn’t hurt, right? You were exes, yes, but he was sure he could probably get one night of civility from you regardless of your history. 

That is, if you were even home. To his luck, who knows, you may be out on a new date with a new perfect guy who could devote all his time to you. If Kyle could’ve, he definitely would’ve. So why didn’t you know that?

Yet, now wasn’t the time to dwell on such matters. Dismounting his horse and tying the reins to a tree in front of your house, he practically sprints up the entryway with his satchel resting on his hip, climbing up the steps before he finds himself on your front porch.

Clearing his throat, he knocks a few times, before it suddenly hits him how late it was. What if he accidentally scared you? That’d only ruin your impression of him. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and he had run out of all other options.

Still, he really hadn’t expected you to actually open the door for him. The oakwood door flings open, and you stand there, clad in a sleeveless nightgown and staring at him like you hadn’t properly rested in weeks. Worry fills his heart despite himself, even as he watches your eyes widen like you saw a ghost.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?” You breathe, leaning heavily against the doorframe, like your legs were giving up on you from just the sight of him. He moves forward a little on instinct, but stops himself from grabbing you, nails digging into his palms hard enough to practically draw blood.

“I—I needed a place to stay. Just for tonight, and I—I’ll go badger that bed and breakfast down the street to give me a room.” He stammers, unable to look at you, but finding himself drawn to you even as he tries his damndest to avoid eye contact. His breath hitches when he sees you staring intently at him, weighing out your options before slowly nodding, pulling away from the door and letting him inside.

“Fine. Just tonight, and then you leave.” You repeat, sighing as he locks the door behind him, letting you usher him upstairs to the guest room. On the way up, he sees remnants of your shared life, from some of the decorations you’d brought, to the old photographs he’d insisted on taking. But what really takes the cake was seeing the painting he’d done of you in that old garden, still hanging up on your wall. Why was it still up? Clearly, you had to update your decor.

“This is your room. One night. You leave at first light.” You hiss, not even an ounce of warmth in your voice as you all but stomp off to your room, leaving him alone in the guest room. The guest room that…lacked much heat. But he’d have to make it do, just for tonight. Tomorrow he’d definitely find a better place.

It’s probably close to sunup, now. He hasn’t slept a wink, though. Everything in here is covered with the lingering smell of your perfume, and he’s pretty sure he saw some of your clothes in here, too. How could he possibly sleep, surrounded by everything of the only woman he’d loved.

Choking back a strangled gasp, he sits up, running his hands through his hair to try and stop the near-painful feeling of his attraction towards you. He couldn’t afford to feel like this, not anymore. It didn’t help that this room had gone from cold to downright frigid, making his already-hot body feel close to the sun’s heat itself.

Slowly, he stands, and stumbles out of the room, intent on going to the bathroom and freshening up. Instead, his body instinctually moves towards yours, and before he can stop himself, he’s opening your bedroom door. To his utter surprise, you’re sitting up as well, head in your hands as you stare down at the floor beside your bed.

Your head snaps up, cheeks flushed at the sight of him in his boxers and an undershirt, taking in a sharp breath at the reminder of what you’d left behind. God, he looked good. How could he look so good when you felt like a complete mess? It wasn’t fair. 

Gasping for breath and wondering if this was another one of your dreams, you lean forwards, nightgown slipping a little as you squint to make him out in the darkness. Kyle flushes a bright pink at the sight of your cleavage, and immediately averts his gaze after remembering you weren’t his to look at. Not anymore.

“What’s wrong?” You rasp, still half-wondering if this was a dream. A dazed, disorienting dream, but it had to be a dream. There’s no way he’s actually walking into your bedroom, and sitting down right in front of you, right? Right. Then why is he so close you could practically kiss him?

“The guest room’s too cold. Can I…I’m cold.” He murmurs, tone almost whiney as he slips into bed beside you, seeming to have forgotten all about your breakup and flopping down like he still owned the place. You gape in shock at the sight of him, gagged, and gasp, shaking him awake in a panic. No, he couldn’t stay here tonight. If he stayed here, you’d never want him to leave. You couldn’t admit you still wanted him—that’s like taking the bait.

“Get out of my bed. Kyle!” You whisper, panicking already, only to pause at the sight of his wide, teary eyes. He grabs your hand sleepily, rubbing your knuckles like he used to do when you were still together, and he’d be slipping into bed after a late night chasing bounties and upholding the law.

“I missed you.” He murmurs back, sniffling as he drags you down into bed beside him, giving you enough space to pull back if you still wanted to, though secures his arm around your side. He doesn’t know where this newfound courage is coming from, but absence makes the heart fonder, so he could probably really only credit his broken, sappy heart. 

“Let me stay, won’t ya? Just…tonight.” He says, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head when you move closer to his side, breathing you in and sighing in relief. This was where he needed to be, and he knew that with full certainty now.

You slump against him, and slowly nod, burying your face against his neck as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body into his and refusing to let go of his iron grip on you. “Just tonight. And you’re leaving tomorrow.” You reiterate, and he nods obediently, making your throat parch.

“At first light.” He mumbles, reminding you of your own words. You freeze when you feel him sleepily kiss the side of your head, hand still holding yours like he’d completely forgotten about your breakup. It was just tonight, so maybe you could forget about it, too. 

That is, until he rolls over a little, sleepily moving against you and making you pause in surprise. Hissing a little, you push him back by the shoulders, cheeks just as flushed as his. “Kyle, what the hell are ya doin’?” You ask, wondering if he’d completely lost his senses. He pauses, blinks, and looks down at the cleavage still peeking out of your nightgown, gaze transfixed on the way you’re breathing, how you’d been sweating a little from the contact, how beautiful you looked under him…goddamn it, he was getting ahead of himself, wasn’t he?

“Tell me you want me to go, and I will. I just—I can’t be without you. You’re my everything, y’know that? Fuckin’ hell, I shouldn’t have come back. I’m sorry, I—I just can’t. I can’t. I need you.” He rasps, tone damn near whiney as he looks down at you, lashes clumped together from his tears, hair ruffled from his tossing and turning, chest practically brushing against yours. How were you meant to think straight like this? You couldn’t, obviously. Your heart is beating at the speed of light, and you restrain a gasp, biting your lower lip and smacking his arm lightly, averting your gaze from his pathetic, gorgeous face.

“Kyle…one night…” You murmur, tugging his hair lightly, pushing it away from his face with a shared groan. One night couldn't hurt, right? Right. You could handle one night of passion. You deserved it, really, at this point. Three weeks without Kyle definitely did that to a woman. 

So, you give in. Hands in his hair, you let go, unable to say no to him. How could you, when you wanted him just as badly? You’d be a hypocrite to refuse him now. No, you’d definitely stand strong after tonight, and you’d kick him out tomorrow morning like you’d sworn you would. It would happen, you’d make sure of it.

Waking up the next morning, you feel like you’ve been kicked down by a horse. A really attractive horse, though, seeing as you’re resting on Kyle’s bare chest, his arm wrapped around your waist and holding you impossibly close, even in sleep. With a sleepy sigh, you sit up a little, just to admire his features one last time before he’d inevitably leave. 

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He murmurs when he wakes up, feeling your gaze practically burn a hole into his forehead, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you with the most hopeful, pleased stare. Any strong will you’d had seeps out of you at once, and you groan, flopping onto the bed hopelessly beside him.

“I hate you.” You grumble, and he chuckles, the sound breathless as he pulls you even closer, burying his face into your neck, breath coming out in little puffs against your collarbone. “I can stay longer, can’t I? I’ll even move in here, if you’d like. We can replant that garden…” He rasps, making you pause in surprise. You look down at him, at his content expression, and feel yourself relaxing, before nodding slowly in agreement, a faint smile tugging at your lips. 

“Can we add peonies this time too?” You murmur, and he immediately nods, humming his response and tightening his grip just a little further, as if afraid you’d leave him any minute now. “Of course. Any flowers you’d like, sugar.” He whispers, and you snuggle into him.

You were sure this would be the first of many things he’d agree with you on. Perhaps he’d even cut down his bounties, too, if you can sweeten the deal. And you definitely could, since he folds almost instantly around you.This time, it’d work out between you two if he had any say in the matter. He’d never let you go, and he’d get to rub it in Hal’s face that his relationship worked out better than his senior’s. It’s all a man could want in life, honestly. 

Please do not copy, steal, or put my works into AI. Consider supporting me through commissions! Leche's Mailbox. Taglist: @cinnamon-girl-writes, @that-dumb-bunny, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @sowhatifimslow, @stilestotherescue, @nightwingblvd

[lechelovestoyap]

I forgot to tag everyone so rb-ing this!

Event Taglist: @luviery, @batwngs, @cosmicasteroid, @bloomcissa, @starr-jazz, @batslilwhore, @zarsghost, @only-dot-nicky

[lechelovestoyap]

Burning Lungs and Bloodshot Eyes

Pairing: Kyle Rayner x fem!reader Summary: Kyle and you had separated because of his inability to maintain a work-life balance. But, fate has a way of drawing him back to you, and he finds himself with you once again. CW: mild suggestiveness, implied smut, MDNI, angst, drinking WC: 3.16K

Leche's Note: This is the first fic from my 400 followers event!! I'm so excited to write this series omg (losing my mind actively). I hope you guys like this one, it's a bit longer than my normal fics!! also thank you @pixelbfs for reading this over and letting me yap to you about this for like a week

He’d really done a number on you, huh?

Looking around at the empty, dark space of your old shared house, he finds himself placing shards of glass in a box, hands shaking as he places them piece by piece, trying desperately to not look at the ruined photograph of the two of you once framed.

He stands, a wave of heat and nausea pressing down on his back, and steps out to the back porch, staring at the half-dying garden you’d planted. Memories flood through him against his will, and he finds himself stepping down to the patch of soft soil, standing in front of the wilting white carnations. 

“Kyle, look! Aren’t they pretty? Ma says these ones are for everlasting love.” Your voice echoes, practically slamming around in his skull, like you were desperate to get away from him even then. In his mind’s eye, he can still see you kneeling there, soil dirtying that new summer yellow dress he’d insisted on buying you. Your hands were all muddy, and there was a smudge of dirt on your cheek.

His hand moves, twitching, like it’d done once when he’d wiped it off you with his thumb, earning a flush from you, watching your mouth go dry as you huffed and sputtered at him for being too charming.

Where was that charm, he wondered, when you’d packed up and left, sobbing about how he’d been working himself to the bone, how you couldn’t handle no more nights alone.

Snapping himself out of his daze when the front door’s knocked on, his legs move him back into the house, though his gaze remains transfixed on the sight of those wilting white carnations, dying like his love.

Opening the front door, he’s greeted with another unwanted sight. Hal stands in front of him, boots clicking against the wooden steps to the front of his house, a toothpick being fiddled with absentmindedly until their gazes meet. How he wished they hadn’t.

“Rayner, there you are! Y’know, you had me worried ya wouldn’t answer the door! C’mon out buddy, look, I even got you somethin’ good!” Hal says, holding up two bottles of beer, practically forcing his way into the house.

So this wasn’t even work-related, huh? Usually, Hal tended to keep his distance, separating them when it came down to the nitty gritty details. Why the sudden change of heart, Kyle wouldn’t understand.

Still, he lets him in, sighing and shutting the door behind the older man, muttering to him to take his damned boots off first. Biting his tongue, he resists the urge to say his fiance wouldn’t like it. After all, he didn’t have a fiance now, did he?

“What’re you doing here, Hal? This ain’t for a job, is it?” He asks, sitting down on his armchair, watching Hal crack open the cans against the side of the dining table, wincing when it leaves an obvious mark that Hal just brushes off.

“Nah, this is a Jordan-special, kid. You’re lucky, not many people ever get to witness this!” He laughs, making Kyle’s mood only sour further, the look on his face only wavering further between anguish and irritation. 

Kyle lets out a mocking, suffering sigh, reaching out to take the cold bottle and downing a few gulps before the older man can question it. He’d need it to even hold a conversation tonight, pleasantries be damned.

“She left.” He finally admits, tears in his eyes as he meets Hal’s gaze, watching the man sit opposite to him. That was your spot, once. You’d hated it, wanting to be closer to him, but he’d resisted, claiming he wanted to be able to see your every expression, your every movement. All of you, he’d once told you, practically begging to keep you in that spot as he painted you with the cheap hardware store supplies on an old scrapped canvas.

Hal’s expression drops, and he sighs, relaxing his shoulders as he takes a swig of his own beer, looking at Kyle with an expression akin to pity. Not that Kyle was looking back at him anymore, too busy wiping his eyes against his sleeve, coughing as he drank more.

“I know. I know, I—” He cuts himself off momentarily, wondering if it was the right time to bring this up. Biting the inside of his cheek, he stares at Kyle one more time, giving him a once-over, his expression crumpling further at the sight of him so distraught.

He looked like he was a husk of himself, really. Of course, Hal remembered how he’d spoken of you, like you were his sun. Like he would forever be okay, revolving around you, being with you.  You were his everything, his very essence. At least, that’s how he’d made it sound. At that time, he’d thought the young lad was exaggerating. Who really worships someone that much, like they’re the core of their very being?

Kyle had, apparently. He’d loved you so deeply Hal knows it must be like his heart had been ripped out and tossed aside, and he’d felt so fiercely for you Hal also knew that this wasn’t a fleeting sort of love.

No, knowing the young man, he’d probably love you forever. And that would be his very undoing, wouldn’t it?

Leaning forward onto his elbows, Hal sucks in a sharp breath, before snapping his fingers a few times to get Kyle’s attention. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, Rayner. Us? We ain’t meant for love, and you know it. Snap…snap out of this. For your sake and mine, forget about her, okay? She’s not coming back.” Kyle chokes on a sob, looking up at Hal like he’d personally dug that dagger into his chest and twisted it aggressively. Shaking his head, he tries to deny it, but no words come to his mind. So, he instead slowly nods and slumps into his senior, gripping onto the front of his shirt and sobbing into his chest.

“I—what will I do without her?” He asks, sniffling, pulling back as Hal digs through his satchel and hands Kyle a bounty poster, a faint smile on his lips as he pats Kyle’s shoulder sympathetically.

“You’ll work yourself ta the bone—it’s what worked when Carol and I broke up.” Hal shrugs, and Kyle’s brows furrows, staring up at him like he’d grown three heads. “You’re always breakin’ up though.” He deadpans, and Hal’s grin only widens, smoothing back Kyle’s hair to make him seem more presentable.

“I know. Maybe you and yer little lady could be like that, someday. But you’ve got to snap out of this, kid. For everyone’s sake.” He huffs, and Kyle slowly nods in agreement, rubbing his face with his hand and holding the bounty in the other, gulping when he realizes it was in your hometown. He’d be in for one hell of a week if you were actually staying there, right? Not like he could tell Hal that, though.

Getting out of the house for the first time since you’d left felt…oddly pleasant, even if it only increased the stinging pain in his chest. Maneuvering his horse towards your hometown, he maps out his path, patting his steed out of thanks.

The journey takes hours, though it’s all worth it when he manages to make it before nightfall. Only, every single bed and breakfast, inn, and anything remotely resembling a motel shuts him out, claiming they’re full for the night. Confused, he mounts his horse again, clicking his tongue and slowly moving through town. Why were people turning him down? Did they know about your history or something? 

Nervously, he moves down the familiar path to your old home, and stops in front of the little brick path up to your house. He pauses, unsure of what to do. One night couldn’t hurt, right? You were exes, yes, but he was sure he could probably get one night of civility from you regardless of your history. 

That is, if you were even home. To his luck, who knows, you may be out on a new date with a new perfect guy who could devote all his time to you. If Kyle could’ve, he definitely would’ve. So why didn’t you know that?

Yet, now wasn’t the time to dwell on such matters. Dismounting his horse and tying the reins to a tree in front of your house, he practically sprints up the entryway with his satchel resting on his hip, climbing up the steps before he finds himself on your front porch.

Clearing his throat, he knocks a few times, before it suddenly hits him how late it was. What if he accidentally scared you? That’d only ruin your impression of him. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and he had run out of all other options.

Still, he really hadn’t expected you to actually open the door for him. The oakwood door flings open, and you stand there, clad in a sleeveless nightgown and staring at him like you hadn’t properly rested in weeks. Worry fills his heart despite himself, even as he watches your eyes widen like you saw a ghost.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?” You breathe, leaning heavily against the doorframe, like your legs were giving up on you from just the sight of him. He moves forward a little on instinct, but stops himself from grabbing you, nails digging into his palms hard enough to practically draw blood.

“I—I needed a place to stay. Just for tonight, and I—I’ll go badger that bed and breakfast down the street to give me a room.” He stammers, unable to look at you, but finding himself drawn to you even as he tries his damndest to avoid eye contact. His breath hitches when he sees you staring intently at him, weighing out your options before slowly nodding, pulling away from the door and letting him inside.

“Fine. Just tonight, and then you leave.” You repeat, sighing as he locks the door behind him, letting you usher him upstairs to the guest room. On the way up, he sees remnants of your shared life, from some of the decorations you’d brought, to the old photographs he’d insisted on taking. But what really takes the cake was seeing the painting he’d done of you in that old garden, still hanging up on your wall. Why was it still up? Clearly, you had to update your decor.

“This is your room. One night. You leave at first light.” You hiss, not even an ounce of warmth in your voice as you all but stomp off to your room, leaving him alone in the guest room. The guest room that…lacked much heat. But he’d have to make it do, just for tonight. Tomorrow he’d definitely find a better place.

It’s probably close to sunup, now. He hasn’t slept a wink, though. Everything in here is covered with the lingering smell of your perfume, and he’s pretty sure he saw some of your clothes in here, too. How could he possibly sleep, surrounded by everything of the only woman he’d loved.

Choking back a strangled gasp, he sits up, running his hands through his hair to try and stop the near-painful feeling of his attraction towards you. He couldn’t afford to feel like this, not anymore. It didn’t help that this room had gone from cold to downright frigid, making his already-hot body feel close to the sun’s heat itself.

Slowly, he stands, and stumbles out of the room, intent on going to the bathroom and freshening up. Instead, his body instinctually moves towards yours, and before he can stop himself, he’s opening your bedroom door. To his utter surprise, you’re sitting up as well, head in your hands as you stare down at the floor beside your bed.

Your head snaps up, cheeks flushed at the sight of him in his boxers and an undershirt, taking in a sharp breath at the reminder of what you’d left behind. God, he looked good. How could he look so good when you felt like a complete mess? It wasn’t fair. 

Gasping for breath and wondering if this was another one of your dreams, you lean forwards, nightgown slipping a little as you squint to make him out in the darkness. Kyle flushes a bright pink at the sight of your cleavage, and immediately averts his gaze after remembering you weren’t his to look at. Not anymore.

“What’s wrong?” You rasp, still half-wondering if this was a dream. A dazed, disorienting dream, but it had to be a dream. There’s no way he’s actually walking into your bedroom, and sitting down right in front of you, right? Right. Then why is he so close you could practically kiss him?

“The guest room’s too cold. Can I…I’m cold.” He murmurs, tone almost whiney as he slips into bed beside you, seeming to have forgotten all about your breakup and flopping down like he still owned the place. You gape in shock at the sight of him, gagged, and gasp, shaking him awake in a panic. No, he couldn’t stay here tonight. If he stayed here, you’d never want him to leave. You couldn’t admit you still wanted him—that’s like taking the bait.

“Get out of my bed. Kyle!” You whisper, panicking already, only to pause at the sight of his wide, teary eyes. He grabs your hand sleepily, rubbing your knuckles like he used to do when you were still together, and he’d be slipping into bed after a late night chasing bounties and upholding the law.

“I missed you.” He murmurs back, sniffling as he drags you down into bed beside him, giving you enough space to pull back if you still wanted to, though secures his arm around your side. He doesn’t know where this newfound courage is coming from, but absence makes the heart fonder, so he could probably really only credit his broken, sappy heart. 

“Let me stay, won’t ya? Just…tonight.” He says, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head when you move closer to his side, breathing you in and sighing in relief. This was where he needed to be, and he knew that with full certainty now.

You slump against him, and slowly nod, burying your face against his neck as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your body into his and refusing to let go of his iron grip on you. “Just tonight. And you’re leaving tomorrow.” You reiterate, and he nods obediently, making your throat parch.

“At first light.” He mumbles, reminding you of your own words. You freeze when you feel him sleepily kiss the side of your head, hand still holding yours like he’d completely forgotten about your breakup. It was just tonight, so maybe you could forget about it, too. 

That is, until he rolls over a little, sleepily moving against you and making you pause in surprise. Hissing a little, you push him back by the shoulders, cheeks just as flushed as his. “Kyle, what the hell are ya doin’?” You ask, wondering if he’d completely lost his senses. He pauses, blinks, and looks down at the cleavage still peeking out of your nightgown, gaze transfixed on the way you’re breathing, how you’d been sweating a little from the contact, how beautiful you looked under him…goddamn it, he was getting ahead of himself, wasn’t he?

“Tell me you want me to go, and I will. I just—I can’t be without you. You’re my everything, y’know that? Fuckin’ hell, I shouldn’t have come back. I’m sorry, I—I just can’t. I can’t. I need you.” He rasps, tone damn near whiney as he looks down at you, lashes clumped together from his tears, hair ruffled from his tossing and turning, chest practically brushing against yours. How were you meant to think straight like this? You couldn’t, obviously. Your heart is beating at the speed of light, and you restrain a gasp, biting your lower lip and smacking his arm lightly, averting your gaze from his pathetic, gorgeous face.

“Kyle…one night…” You murmur, tugging his hair lightly, pushing it away from his face with a shared groan. One night couldn't hurt, right? Right. You could handle one night of passion. You deserved it, really, at this point. Three weeks without Kyle definitely did that to a woman. 

So, you give in. Hands in his hair, you let go, unable to say no to him. How could you, when you wanted him just as badly? You’d be a hypocrite to refuse him now. No, you’d definitely stand strong after tonight, and you’d kick him out tomorrow morning like you’d sworn you would. It would happen, you’d make sure of it.

Waking up the next morning, you feel like you’ve been kicked down by a horse. A really attractive horse, though, seeing as you’re resting on Kyle’s bare chest, his arm wrapped around your waist and holding you impossibly close, even in sleep. With a sleepy sigh, you sit up a little, just to admire his features one last time before he’d inevitably leave. 

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” He murmurs when he wakes up, feeling your gaze practically burn a hole into his forehead, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you with the most hopeful, pleased stare. Any strong will you’d had seeps out of you at once, and you groan, flopping onto the bed hopelessly beside him.

“I hate you.” You grumble, and he chuckles, the sound breathless as he pulls you even closer, burying his face into your neck, breath coming out in little puffs against your collarbone. “I can stay longer, can’t I? I’ll even move in here, if you’d like. We can replant that garden…” He rasps, making you pause in surprise. You look down at him, at his content expression, and feel yourself relaxing, before nodding slowly in agreement, a faint smile tugging at your lips. 

“Can we add peonies this time too?” You murmur, and he immediately nods, humming his response and tightening his grip just a little further, as if afraid you’d leave him any minute now. “Of course. Any flowers you’d like, sugar.” He whispers, and you snuggle into him.

You were sure this would be the first of many things he’d agree with you on. Perhaps he’d even cut down his bounties, too, if you can sweeten the deal. And you definitely could, since he folds almost instantly around you.This time, it’d work out between you two if he had any say in the matter. He’d never let you go, and he’d get to rub it in Hal’s face that his relationship worked out better than his senior’s. It’s all a man could want in life, honestly. 

Please do not copy, steal, or put my works into AI. Consider supporting me through commissions! Leche's Mailbox. Taglist: @cinnamon-girl-writes, @that-dumb-bunny, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @sowhatifimslow, @stilestotherescue, @nightwingblvd

[pixelbfs]

hal jordan x diner waiter/waitress!reader . flirty hal, kinda fwb?, not smut but suggestive

a/n: a small drabble i wrote to stay sane while doing all my assignments...

"Sweetheart," The way the test pilot says that affectionate term makes it seem like it was your given name. It's the only thing he's been calling you since you met not so long ago, when you started working here — a small diner not too far away from Ferris Aircraft, where the usual customers were the air base's workers and roadside drifters.

You push a strand of hair behind your ear, walking over to him. He was sitting on the other side of the counter, flipping through a menu he already memorised. "The usual?" You asked, clicking your pen and taking out a notebook that was previously tucked in the pocket of your apron. Usually, he just ordered some black coffee — something that helped him get through the day.

He's still eying you with that charming, lopsided smirk, not bothering to hide the way he was clearly checking you out. "Nah, I'm in the mood for something sweet." He mumbled, fiddling with a toothpick he suddenly found of interest. "I'd like a milkshake. Chocolate."

"Whip?"

"Mhm."

He kept his eyes on you as you prepared the milkshake, his eyes trailing down your frame, admiring the sway of your ass and the way the apron cinched your waist. He knows he's acting like a total perv, but it was only fair! He's seen the way you look at him — a display of a terrible case of bedroom eyes. The perversion was mutual.

You finally turned around, cutting the fun short for him. "Here you go, Jordan," you said, putting a cherry on top of the whipped cream.

He smiles as a reply, picking up the cherry by its stem and taking it in between pearly white teeth — they must be fake from how picture-perfect they seemed. The way Hal eats the cherry so sensually doesn't go past you. This was normal for him.

"Hal…" You warned, biting back a chuckle from escaping your lips. You hated fueling his ego.

"Yeah?" He kept up the image of faux-innocence, dipping his two fingers into the whipped cream like a total psycho before bringing them into his mouth, moaning like a manwhore when his lips wrapped around his fingers. The entire time, his brown eyes held eye contact with you, dark with noticeable lust as his tongue took in the sweetness of the cream.

You continued biting your lower lip, but not to hide a chuckle. He's like a siren luring you into the sea — with the sea being his dingy apartment back in the city. You finally lowered your voice, leaning over the counter to be closer to him. "We promised last time was the last."

"I know, but we never keep our promises, do we?" He chuckled, the depth of his voice making a shiver run up your spine. "Plus, I have this thing that's gonna make me go out of state for a while. I just wanna give you a memorable goodbye.

He leans in closer. You could smell the cheap cologne you learned to love, associating it with some of the best sex you've ever had. Hal Jordan — he was just so goddamn good at seducing you. "Please, sweetheart?"

The bell above the shop door chimes, alerting you to the presence of new customers you need to tend to. You pulled away from him, taking out your notebook once again. "I get off in half an hour. Think you could wait?"

His eyes immediately lit up with excitement, giving you a nod. "Aye aye, Captain."

likes & reblogs deeply appreciated <3

tag: @lechelovestoyap

[lechelovestoyap]

RAHHH ITS PERFECT OMG NEIL THE GOAT STRIKES AGAINNN

[lechelovestoyap]

First Dates To Forever

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!reader Summary: Being a photographer for the Daily Planet, you get assigned to work with Clark on an up-and-coming story. Of course, that takes a turn for the better. CW: none, maybe OOC WC: 2.01K

Leche's Note: This was a commission for the lovely @twentytomidnight! I really enjoyed writing this one, and I hope you all love it too!

When Clark first saw you in the bullpen, he immediately began planning his life out with you. Asking around, he’d gotten Cat to tell him all about you, since he’d found out that both of you joined the Daily Planet around the same time.

Since then, he’s been spiraling. Every minute he’s not thinking about being Superman, his mind is consumed with you. From leaving little doodles of your name in his notes, to wondering if you’d take his last name after getting married, he knew almost instantly he was “whipped”, as Jimmy liked to remind him.

But meeting you for the first time? That really took the cake compared to every fantasy he’d had of you. Of course, expectations often differ from reality, and that’s definitely the case for him. Why? Because instead of being his charming, Superman-like personality he’d envisioned, he’s a stammering, bumbling mess.

“My name is—is Clark. Your’s is Y/N, right?” He asks shakily, sweating bullets at the sight of you, pretty and perfection itself. Standing in front of him, you looked nothing short of a vision from the gods themselves, which felt like both a blessing and curse for him. After all, it rendered him a sappy fool.

You nod, shaking his hand politely, looking up at him curiously. For such a massive hunk of a man, his personality seemed to shrink him, making him look rather adorable in your expert opinion. Letting him go too soon for his liking, you turn, gesturing to the file you’d been given about their next story.

“I think we should take the more sympathetic route with this piece. I mean, minorities are getting hurt, and no one’s taking their side. Shouldn’t we show how much people are suffering right under our noses?” You ask, flipping through what Perry White had asked from the both of you. 

Sure, you weren't the brains behind the article itself, but you were sure you could capture everything that needed to be conveyed with your photography. You were crafty, as far as Clark could tell, and he found himself nodding along rapidly, flipping through Perry’s stack of notes as well and clicking his pen, jotting down some notes on the margins with what you’d said.

“I think that sounds good. Yeah, we should definitely explore and get the opinions of those actually experiencing this instead of taking a bird’s-eye view.” He agrees, and finally straightens from how he’d leant forward to hear you better. 

“So, why don’t we get lunch before we head out? My treat.” Clark offers, and watches your head snap up from your notes, and sees the faint smile grace your lips. Lips he definitely wanted to kiss—but he was getting ahead of himself with that one. You nod, and brush past him to grab your things, chucking all your stuff into a large enough purse that he was sure it’d fit an entire wormhole inside. 

Walking ahead of him, he watches you turn on your kitten heels, that faint smile breaking into an amused smirk.

“Would you mind if I chose the place? There’s this little nook downtown I think you’d like.” You tell him, hand brushing against his arm, making him breathe deeply and swallow thickly, stretching his shirt’s collar to try and stop the flush of pink from blooming on his neck.

“Yes! Yeah, of course, you—you can choose.” He stammers, watching from the corner of his eye as you stare up at him, looking almost keen about his nervous mannerisms. A giggle escapes your mouth, and you nod, watching as he presses the button and the elevator starts down to the ground floor.

Getting to that restaurant, you note, was not exactly a good decision in the heels you’d chosen for today. While they certainly made you look every bit as delectable as you aimed to be, they weren’t pleasant for long distance walks, especially since you found you had to walk faster to keep up with Clark’s natural pace. While he’d offered to slow down for you, you’d refused, not wanting to appear mean or weak in front of him.

Not when he was treating you, anyways. Besides, he seemed so sweet and nervous already, you didn’t want to kill whatever sliver of confidence he’d had left in him right now. Sitting down across from him at the small cafe, you flash him a bright smile, tilting your head slightly as you set your bag down by your feet.

“So, what’s new, Clark? Having fun on your newest articles? I read one—you’re one hell of a writer, y’know?” You ask, leaning your cheek on your hand, staring up at him like you wanted to drink up his every word.

Clark flushes slightly, and nods, sipping his glass of water and agreeing with you, trying to pull the words that were so intent on getting caught and choked back in his throat. He sets his glass down, clearing his throat before fixing his gaze on yours, wanting to appear attentive, even though that’d come naturally around you by now.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s enjoyable when Perry isn’t breathing down my neck with every looming deadline.” He jokes, watching you laugh and nod, reaching for the menu as your hands brush, both of you having the same idea.

A soft flush spreads across your cheeks, making you look even more adorable in his eyes. He watches you avert your gaze to the menu, and he does the same, getting your opinion on all the foods you’d tried here. 

Once the interviews are done, and you've captured the photos you’d wanted, he leads you back to the Daily Planet. He could hear the soft thumping of your heartbeat, which only sped up when it started to rain, and you realized you didn’t have an umbrella.

Neither did he, so he did the only thing he could think of. He took his jacket off, and gently rested it on top of your head, not wanting your hair and shirt to get ruined. You look up at him instantly, shaking your head and talking about how he shouldn’t get wet either, the nervous beating of your heart now louder in his ears than his own.

“I…you’re really sweet, Clark. I like that in a man.” You blurt out, and punch his arm lightly, daring him that you could run faster than him in the rain. Before he could question what you’d said, you run off, leaving him in the dust and staring after you while you try and escape the rain. 

He chases after you, the both of you gasping for breath once you stop at the steps to the Planet, and you sit down on the steps, watching him and chuckling at the sight of his drenched clothes and stance. Though, you avert your gaze when you see just how see-through his shirt really is, not wanting to overstep so soon. That comment was bad enough, after all.

“What did you say, earlier? Um, if you meant it I’d…I’d like to take you up on that.” He states, keeping his voice level for the most part, sitting down beside you. He was close. Too close, his knee brushing against yours as his hand finds yours in the space between you both, squeezing it tightly.

Your face heats up, and you slowly nod, looking down at your purse and manicured nails. “I said I liked how sweet you are, Clark. And…I wouldn’t mind another date. Maybe next time, we can dance if it rains.” You whisper, squeezing his hand back thrice. Three times. I love you is what it meant, right?

His heart beats in sync with yours, and he nods as well, handing you his pen when you pull your notebook out, watching you scribble your number down roughly. “Don’t take too long, Kent.” You tell him appreciatively, handing him the scrap of paper and his pen, giving him a slow once over before standing up again, wanting to get back to your car and get out of the drenched clothes.

He nods again, and stands again, watching as you head inside. While he couldn’t follow you tonight because he’d needed to go to Gotham to speak with Batman about a mission, his eyes linger on your shrinking figure, gaze softening at the sight of you still in his coat. How he would like for you to forever be in his things, really.

And hey, he’d managed to get a date out of this too! Today really was his lucky day.

A week later, you walk up to him in the bullpen, and he pushes out of his seat, standing to greet you despite all the eyes on him. In your hands is the coat you’d borrowed, now dry cleaned and crispier than when he’d given it to you.

“As a thank you for letting me borrow this. I’m excited for Friday night, Clark.” You tell him happily, and he looks down at you like you were the sun itself and he was a mere planet revolving around you, hung onto every word. Nodding, he takes the coat from you, and sets it down carefully over the side of his desk, moving all his stuff around it in a sort of shrine-like fashion, just to make sure the coat you’d taken the effort of dry cleaning for him stays pristine.

“Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world.” He says, and he meant it. Around you, he felt bare, almost. Like his entire soul was yours for the taking, even if you’d both only known each other for a short while.

Watching you leave again, the space beside him suddenly feels empty, that is, until Jimmy and Lois slide in your place, making him sigh in exasperation as they wiggle their eyebrows at him playfully.

“Scored a date with the pretty one, huh? How’d you manage to do that, Kent? Had to use some of your otherworldly charm, did you?” Lois teases, leaning against his desk like she owned the space, making him cringe a little. Way to bring attention to his alien side, huh?

He nods, taking in a deep breath, especially when Jimmy brings up how he’s able to hear the wedding bells already, and is open to being their photographer if you don’t plan on taking on that role yourself. Knowing you, you probably would, just for the hell of it.

“Shut up, Lois.” He mutters under his breath, earning a laugh and high five from the both of them, unable to resist the urge to smile at their teasing and jokes. Mentally though, he’s still swooning at the thought of you, mind slipping in and out of conversation since he didn’t exactly have the words to explain himself when he’s mentally going through every single interaction you’d both had up to date. 

The way your hands had brushed against his at the cafe, how you’d siddled in close beside him when you were both hiding from the rain, now your eyes almost always managed to find his in every room you both were in. He’d managed to memorize your heartbeat already, the soft, steady thumping often lulling him to sleep in his own apartment, after his long, hard days, bruised body aching for relief which he found in your body’s natural rhythm. 

He knew when you were sleeping, working, or going out. Hell, he could practically gauge your mood based on the way your heart pattered nowadays. Not that he minded it. No, he could never mind anything when it came to you, and he’d sure it’d stay that way even when you both get old and grey.

A year later, he finds himself reminiscing about your early days. Now, you were curled up beside him, snoring softly into his side while he read the paper, his reading glasses crooked on his nose. Breathing a little deeper, he relaxes beside you, sighing in relief at the sight of you so content beside him.

This was what he needed, truly. And he’d try his damndest best to never let you go.

Please do not copy, steal, or put my works into AI. Consider supporting me through commissions! Leche's Mailbox. Taglist: @cinnamon-girl-writes, @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger, @sowhatifimslow, @stilestotherescue, @smllvlle

[maelwife]

I love jaywalking with another pedestrian lol we’re unionized

[qin-qin16]

i would love to jaywalk with you @lechelovestoyap

[lechelovestoyap]

I CANT WAIT RAHHHH LETS GO

[lechelovestoyap]

NEW THEME I SEE YOUUUUU

THANK YOU STARR :D I LOVE KYLE SM CAN WE TELL

[lechelovestoyap]

HOW COME I DIDNT SEE THE NEW THEME??? it atttteeeee 😍🫶

THANK YOUUU CHERRY <333 i was meaning to get to my pookie kyle

[bloomcissaa]

“i don’t do politics”

POLITICS IS DOING US YOU DUMB FUCK

[pixelbfs]

red ultra-hot chilli peppers ₊⊹⁀➴ r.harper (pt. 3)

summary: you promised you'd spend more time with him — so today, you're accompanying him at his soundcheck and meeting his family.

content: college au, popular!roy x gn!nerd!reader, roy teaches reader how to play the drums, reader meets the GA 2001 arrow fam, reader opens up about their bad high school experience, READER IS SMART BUT DUMB. THEY'RE PAINFULLY OBLIVIOUS, lover boy roy comes in to save the day ❤️

wc: 2.5k

a/n: awe man... sorry for the slow updates! uni just started and my schedule's insanely packed. anywayssss i got this done and hope you guys like this update <333

part one part two

You owed him this.

You promised Roy, after everything he's done for you, it's your turn to follow him around — social anxiety be damned.

Today's schedule was packed. In the morning until noon, you were going to be accompanying him for his soundcheck. Apparently, his band earned a last-minute booking for an on-campus event arranged by one of the fraternities. It called for a lot of rushed practicing in a short timeframe.

Now, you just stayed backstage, working on the latest assignment that's been burdening you. Even though you were at the back, the sound of the guitar and the beat of the drums messed with your focus.

With a sigh, you closed your laptop, rising from the couch to see how Roy was doing.

You took a peek from the back of the curtain, spotting Roy on his drums, hydrating himself with a few gulps from his water bottle. The harsh spotlight makes the sweat on his body more noticeable, glistening on the freckled skin.

His eyes lit up upon spotting you. "Taking a break from work?" He asked, motioning his head to the side to encourage you to come closer.

"Yeah," you stretched the cramps away while walking over to him, picking up one of his drumsticks and hitting the snare. At the sight of that, a rather fun idea pops into that wonderful head of his.

He scooted the stool behind, making some space for you before patting his lap. "C'mere, let me teach you how to play." He said, arms opened invitingly.

"And… sit on your…?"

He was quick to reply. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

You gulp down your nervousness, masking it with an eye roll before reluctantly sitting on his lap (which, you dare say, was rather comfortable.) You picked up the other drumstick, both sticks feeling rather foreign in your palms. "So, how do I…?"

Your questions were answered with his hands on yours, guiding your movements. Roy's chin was almost resting on your shoulder — he's getting too comfortable in the current position. "Don't hold the drumsticks too tightly," he instructed, his breath fanning against your ear. You had to physically fight the shiver running up your spine. "You'll restrict your movements and lose precision."

You loosened your grip, letting him control your drumming to play a simple duh-dum-tssh. "Yeah, just like that," his voice was uttering those words lowly — it's far too intimate for you to keep your cool, but you tried your best, anyway.

You took control of the drumsticks with his large hands still on yours, playing a bum-ba-dum-tshh. The large, calloused hands holding your wrists slide down to your waist. While you're losing your composure, he's acting as if none of this were a big deal. "You're doin' great," he murmured, "but you're still hitting it too hard, try again."

How could you not hit it too hard? His hands were on your waist while you sat on his lap, listening to his praises and instructions uttered in a literal bedroom voice.

He's just a friend — those thoughts weren't even supposed to cross your mind, but yet they did, taking root in the crevices of your brain and growing into thoughts that were way too far from platonic.

"Like this?" You hit a few random drums after composing yourself. The beat sounded surprisingly good, despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach.

Roy leaned back, looking at you with a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "You're a fast learner, aren't you? My star student."

You mentally utter a 'holy shit'. Those words were definitely not supposed to make your heart rate speed up that much.

You immediately stood up from his lap, accidentally dropping the two drumsticks in the process. "… Guess that's enough for today's lesson. I should let you focus on your soundcheck."

You don't notice the way his shoulders slumped while you were picking up the drumsticks. He liked teaching you how to play — it was like a love language to him. Despite that, he kept his displeasure to himself. "Yeah, you're right. You should keep doing your assignments too," he said, forcing a smile on his face.

When you walked away, his gaze lingered on your frame. His heart was beating so fast that it literally ached. The only thing running through his head now was the nerd who's somehow captured his heart.

Roy stared at his drums for a few moments before taking a deep breath, gathering himself and getting his head in the game. "Hey, Mal! Let's do Californication again!"

He held your books for you as you left the studio with him. Despite your many efforts to make him understand that you can hold them by yourself, he insisted on helping you. It was slightly annoying, but his heart was in the right place.

"Sooo, you hungry?" He asked once the two of you were buckled up in his car. "Ollie's having another chilli night. Dinah said I've missed out too much already, so… you wanna join in?" His palms on the steering wheel suddenly felt extremely sweaty. "Plus, you could finally meet the fam."

"I can?" you raised an eyebrow, "I mean, hell yeah. But am I even ready for Ollie's chilli?"

He chuckled, "Probably not. But I could whip up some omelettes for you if you don't want the chilli— I'm real good at them."

It's your turn to laugh, giving him a slight nudge with your elbow. "Sure. I'd like some of Roy Harper's world-famous omelettes as a side."

The apartment was cozy and well lived-in. It smelled of incense, lit up with warm lights that made it feel much more homey. Almost all of his furniture had wooden frames. Judging by your knowledge of interior architecture, they were definitely vintage — sometime in the 70s, you assumed. On the walls were many framed newspaper clippings alongside many photographs. For some reason, he seemed to be really into Green Arrow.

You followed Roy from behind, using his large frame to hide yourself.

"Ginger Spice, you made it!" Mia squealed, tackling him with a hug from behind. Roy's talked about her once or twice to you — according to him, you'd 'definitely hit it off' with Mia. "Oh," she paused, a Cheshire cat grin forming when she sees you, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you. This guy here's been talking about you non-stop."

"That's hyperbole." Roy quickly interjected, narrowing his eyes at her. He puts his hand on your back, guiding you away from Mia. "Ignore her, she's weird."

The next person you met was Connor, who was curled up on the couch, reading a book. Roy reached out to ruffle his hair, snapping him out of his focus.

"Dude!" He grinned, dabbing his brother up before turning around to face you. The excited smile on his face turns into a grin as mischievous as Mia's. "Nice to meet you," he said, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear, "Between us two — Roy here can't stop talking about you, ever. It's clogging up the family group chat."

Roy doesn't give you enough time to reply before he pulls you away from Connor, glaring daggers at him. "Ignore him and Mia, they're both way too overdramatic," he said, hands on your shoulders as he steered you away from the two blondes, "And for the record, I don't talk about you that much."

Those words were a complete and utter lie.

The two of you walked over to the kitchen, met with the sight of Oliver lip-locked with Dinah while some of the chilli on his spatula dripped on the floor. Roy cleared his throat, causing the couple to immediately pull apart, cheeks red while they introduced themselves to you.

Oliver quickly composed himself, walking towards you with an excited grin. "A new mouth touches the chilli!" he announced, putting his hands on your shoulder as he walked you over to the pot of chilli. The smell of spices filled your senses once he opened the cover, making you squint and sniffle just a little bit.

Roy gulped, arms crossed as he watched Oliver scoop some of the chilli in a spoon, "Ollie, I don't think—"

"Calm down, Roy!" he waved his hand dismissively, offering you the spoon. "You know what you're getting yourself into, right?"

You nod, blowing the steam coming from the scoop of chilli. "I can handle my spices, Roy. No need to worry, trust me." You said as an attempt to calm him down. Roy looked too worried for you, despite it just being some chilli. You've had some in your life; they've been harmless to you.

With everyone watching, you tasted the infamous Oliver Queen chilli.

"Hey, hey. C'mon, drink up." Roy whispered, gently rubbing circles on your back. While you were vomiting in the toilet bowl, he came prepared with your fifth cup of ice water.

You groan, taking the glass from him and swishing the water on your tongue, trying to calm down the insane level of spice. Roy sighed, his hand still on your back. "You really didn't need to eat that much, y'know."

You grabbed some toilet paper and blew your nose into it. "I—I thought it'd be rude not to." You mumble pathetically, fingers reaching out to find the cold glass again.

Despite your misfortune, the statement makes him laugh. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you with half-disbelief, half-disappointment. "You're unbelievable." He whispered, running his fingers through your hair in a gesture of comfort.

You built up the strength to face him again, seeing the previous expression replaced by a tender glint in his eyes. "Stop that. You're lookin' at me weird." You slurred, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Yeah," His gaze remained, still looking at you like you hung the stars. "I am."

This wasn't like the drum lesson earlier — there was nothing sexy about throwing up in front of your close friend. Your noses were almost touching; his breath fanned against your quivering lips. It took almost all of his self-control not to lean in and close the gap between you.

A knock on the door makes him jump, pulling away from you. "Are you okay?" Dinah sounds as worried as Roy was — it makes a tinge of guilt pang in your heart, you didn't want to worry her too much.

"I'm fine!" you answered, immediately getting up from the tiled floor. You were still slumped against the toilet bowl when you heard the door creak open, revealing Dinah leaning against the doorway, accompanied by Mia and Connor being nosey.

Roy walked outside, his hands gently squeezing your shoulders. "They're alright. Can you get some milk from the fridge?" Connor nods, being the one to fetch it for him.

When Connor walks away, Oliver catches sight of you. He beamed at the sight of you standing up. "See! You took it like a champ, kid!"

No one laughed — the entire apartment was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

Despite your earlier predicament, you stayed to help Roy clean the kitchen and the dishes. While you're bent down in front of the fridge, rearranging the items inside to make way for the leftovers, you hum a tune an old teacher of yours used to love.

Roy's ears perked up, closing the dishwasher. "Haven't heard that song in a long time — reminds me of high school." He said, replaying memories in his head, "I think I would've loved going to prom with you."

A dry, self-pitying laugh leaves your lips. "…I never went to prom." You confessed, sitting on the kitchen counter beside him. "Didn't have a date, and my friends left me out of their plans, so I spent prom night playing bingo at the retirement home."

"You didn't have a prom date?" His jaw dropped, as if the mere concept of you being alone on prom night was unbelievable, "No high school sweethearts?

Gosh, despite how nice he's been to you, you wish you could slap him for wording it like that. "No. No college sweethearts either." You muttered.

"So you've been single your entire life?" Even though you can tell he's being sincere, he's still rubbing salt in the wound.

"Yep." You sighed, shaking your head and looking away from him — hiding the display of humiliation present on your face.

When he noticed your visible discomfort, he stopped speaking. For a few moments, there's nothing but silence between the two of you.

Suddenly, you heard the opening notes to the song you had hummed earlier, followed by the scratchy vocals of the 80s one-hit-wonder. The lights were then turned off, leaving only the yellow refrigerator light illuminating the small space of the kitchen. You finally turned around, seeing him in front of you. The song was coming from his phone placed on the kitchen counter, playing it from his Spotify.

"C'mere," he smiled, pulling you closer. Those hands smoothly slid onto your waist, holding you close, "I'm your prom date now."

It took all your courage for you to wrap your arms around his neck, holding the eye contact that makes your heart thump violently against your ribcage. You swayed to the music with him, unable to hide the smitten smile forming on your face. "Isn't it a little too late for that?" you playfully asked as he twirled you around, causing a giggle to escape your lips.

He caught you again. "Nah," he shook his head, the hand on your waist daring himself to pull you closer. 'It's only weird if you make it weird,' those words echoed in his head as he slowly rested his chin on your shoulder. Truth was — he was hoping you'd make it weird. He wanted to ruin the friendship, but he wanted you to be the one who did it.

You spin once again, and now his chest is against your back. His large arms — still in contact with yours — went down to wrap around your waist. "If I'd known you then, I would've asked you to be my prom date."

Instead of your usual dismissal, you found yourself playing into it. "Yeah?" you chuckle, "And what would the promposal be like?"

He laughs at that, tilting his head down for a moment before finally answering you. "Well… I'm a simplistic guy. I think I'd just attach a note on an arrow and fire it into your room."

You snorted. You couldn't believe you forgot he had an ego the size of a skyscraper. "And you think it'd land in my room? Without hurting me?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." He said it like it was a fact — because it probably was. "I never miss, which means I can miss on purpose."

You decide to take his word for it, nodding while you let a smirk form on your lips. "So, is this…"

"A date? Yeah, it is." He chuckled, looking at you with an unfamiliar softness in his eyes, one you've never been the recipient of.

You know not to get attached. After the Polaroid you found in his car a while ago, you know you shouldn't assume any of this meant anything apart from Roy being a caring friend. But for tonight — in Ollie's kitchen with your head nuzzled into Roy's neck — you let your guard down and finally had your first prom dance.

likes & reblogs are appreciated ♡

dividers by @/pixopix

taglist: @batwngs @cherryvvave @xmosskin @emmaaagb @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @the-demoninside @bloomcissa @forgotten-totoro @permanent-chaos @ftkats

[lechelovestoyap]

YESSSS THIS IS SO GOOD IM SO OBSESSED ‼️

[vianawaits]

In the Kiln

These are the masterpieces that are currently cooking!

Thank you to everyone who participated I am eternally grateful for all of you I will be working on these after finals

On the first shelf we have:

bookends created with earthenware clay, glazed with melancholy

fluff with Jason Todd about a secret relationship

tea set created with earthenware clay, glazed with cheeky pink & lavender haze

fluff with Damian Wayne about fake dating in college

bookends created with kaolin clay glazed with orkid (E85 by don toliver)

suggestive with Jason Todd based on E85 by don toliver

plant pot created with earthenware clay glazed with sunkissed & orkid (glue song by beabadoobee)

fluff with Wally West being friends w/benefits based on glue song by beabadoobee

bookends created with earthenware clay with kaolin bits mixed in, glazed with tuxedo

fluff and some suggestive with Jason Todd on a mission (vigilante reader)

miniature fairy house created with ball clay, glazed with deer john & cheeky pink

hurt/comfort with Dick Grayson about him being your best friend's brother & fake dating

candle pot created with ball clay, glazed with just froggy

hurt/comfort with Tim Drake being academic rivals to lovers

plant pot created with kaolin clay, glazed with lavender haze & just froggy

suggestive with Wally West in college being academic rivals to lovers

ash tray created with earthenware clay, glazed with lavender haze & irish luck

Fluff with Zuko being friends to lovers in college

On the second shelf we have pieces made by beloved artists

candle pot created with kaolin clay, glazed with deer john & melancholy

suggestive with Tim Drake in a secret relationship & he’s your best friend’s brother (designed by the talented @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger)

salt and pepper shakers created with ball clay, glazed with sunkissed & tuxedo

hurt/comfort with Bruce Wayne where you’re friends w/benefits and on a mission (designed by the talented @cherryvvave)

salt and pepper shakers created with ball clay, glazed with java bean & melancholy

hurt/comfort with Bruce Wayne being in a secret relationship & a workplace romance (designed by the talented @t1mbits)

plant pot created with ball clay, glazed with sunkissed & hot tamale

A hurt/comfort fic with Wally being friends w/ benefits & he gets protective/jealous (designed by the talented @bloomcissaa)

candle pot created with earthenware clay, glazed with deer john

fluff with Tim Drake where he’s your best friend’s brother (designed by the talented @bat2nsignia)

ring dish created with stoneware clay, glazed with melancholy & silver lining

angst with Kyle Rayner in regency era & in a secret relationship (designed by the talented @lechelovestoyap)

tea set created with stoneware clay, glazed with irish luck & tuxedo

angst with Damian Wayne about being friends to lovers on a mission (designed by the talented @mystiquevoid)

salt & pepper shakers made with kaolin clay glazed with cheeky pink and hot tamale

suggestive with Bruce Wayne about fake dating & him getting jealous (designed by the talented @/mystiquevoid)

candle pot created using stoneware clay, glazed with sour apple & tuxedo

angst with Tim Drake about being on a mission & enemies to lovers (designed by the talented @gglouise23)

lion figure created with stoneware clay, glazed with sour apple & hot tamale

angst with Keith Kogane about enemies to lovers where he gets jealous (designed by the talented @starkkat)

[lechelovestoyap]

YESSSUHHHH KYLEEEE YESSSSSSSSSSSSS 😭🙏🥹