jlanonmeme | PROMPTS C - CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS

Entry tags:

PROMPTS C - CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS

RULES:

Leave an anon prompt in the comments
Answer an anon prompt in the comments

That's simple right? ^_^

THIS POST IS NOW CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS

You can still answer prompts though! there is no limit on that.

Have fun!

FILLED PROMPTS:

1. "Good for the Goose, Good for the Gander", Kate/Ollie - hair removal

3. "(Dis)assemble" - Guy

4. "Three Blind Mice", J'onn + Ollie + Guy - threesome

6. "The Weft and the Warp", Damian - fantasy

7. "Sun Sun Twenty-One", Ollie/Steph - cunnilingus

8. "In Vino Veritas", Kyle + Dick
drinking contest, Kyle/Dick

10. Bai in a box, all chars

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Kate and Ollie get drunk and his beard is shaved off

Ollie is a lustful and incompetent king in the style of Henry VIII with multiple spouses. One spouse in a fic is fine although if you do all six I will love you forever!

Guy is the Hulk, fill in the rest of the Justice League as the Avengers and Xmen if you need more characters.

Why has nobody asked for a threesome sexytimes yet? I want your favorite threesome!

Kate discovers she is a coffeesexual and has to experience the smell taste or sight of coffee in order to get off. Any pairing.

Damian belongs to a race of beings whose hair is in great demand for weaving of tapestries. He is kept by a wealthy tapestry maker who is kind to him but has profited off his locks. I want to see lots of sensual massageing of oils into Damian's head and plucking of hairs or shearing him!

Ollie gives Steph oral for her 21st birthday

Kyle and Dick having a drinking contest (can be comical or angsty)

Beast Boy and Speedy are looking for a quiet corner of the Tower to make out...only to learn they're the only Titans not getting hot and heavy already. Don't really care about pairings as long as everyone is there, just snippets of whatever you like most. (Titans left FYI: Ravager, Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, Nightstar, Zachary Zatara)

"I'll shave my bush if you shave yours," Kate had goaded, tapping the crotch of her blue jeans invitingly. Ollie had stared at her for a long period of time, eyes shifting from that sexy-ass smirk down to those incredibly oh-so-tight dark denims as he clutched his beer bottle. It hadn't been the thrill of loss of hair--Ollie would want to fuck Kate even if she was walking around with a gorilla's bush--but the temptation of seeing Kate in a way he never had before was too much to resist.

Kate's side of the promise was being fulfilled a little too quickly, he thought with distaste as she masterfully applied the warm wax, and then instantly began ripping out hair, only barely wincing as she pulled each strip. It looked like murder to Ollie, and yet seeing her reach down between her legs, wince a little with that little lip bit just right, and then repeat made the front of his own jeans tighter than ever. He reached over, large and rough hands grabbing at her bare arms, attempting to pull her closer. For probably the first time in their relationship, Kate pulled away.

"Oh no," she purred, turning around so he could examine her now-slick-if-a-little-red mound of venus as she took another shot of tequila. "Your turn, gordito."

Ollie looked at the men's razor in her hand. In hindsight, downing three more tequila shots of his own while she was doing her own thing was a terrible idea, because now the room was spinning like a carousel and he knew he was lingering precariously close to the line between best drunk lover ever and a massively disappointing whiskey dick. There was also the small matter of the razor suddenly looking like a gigantic beard-eating monster. Kate took a step towards him threateningly. "Oliver Queen," she slurred, coming closer and closer, suddenly slipping into a stream of Spanish that was both horrifying and incredibly hot to him. He reached out once more, hoping, only to get his hands smacked away as she crawled onto his lap, hot and sticky pelvis grinding against him. He managed to whimper only once as she turned the razor on and leaned down.

The next day, Mia found herself making multiple runs to the pharmacy for Kate's irritated crotch and Ollie's horrendous razor burns.

title is "Good for the Goose, Good for the Gander," btw

Bai lives in a box only nobody knows it

I would prefer if it's a box like a cat box, not something sad like she's homeless plz

“When did this thing get here?” Ollie asked. “And who’s it for anyway? Is the Martian ordering more of those damn cookies?!”

“Beats me” Kyle shrugged. “I figured it was some new piece of tech you or Bruce ordered. Does it have a name on it?”

“Fer fucks sake Blondie, don’cha think we’d a-opned it if one of our names was on it?” Gardner snapped.

“I ain’t paying for any more goddamn cookies!” Ollie railed.

“Calm down Oliver” Clark said. “Let me just scan it with my x-ray vis- hmmm.”

“Hmm what?” Kate Spencer asked. “I don’t like the look on your face.”

Clark frowned. “It’s lead lined.”

“Lead lined?” Wally asked. “Should we be worried?”

Hal walked into the League’s main conference room. “Worried about what?”

“This box” Bette answered, pointing. “Should somebody open it?”

“You want me to open it?” Kate Kane asked.

Dick hopped down from his perch on the countertop. “This mystery is making my Bat-sense tingle” he said, using his index fingers to mimic Bruce’s cowl ears. “Who would send a lead lined box this size to the Watchtower unless they were trying to hide something?”

“-TT-” tutted Damian. “Just blow it up and be done with it.”

“That’s your answer to everything!” Stephanie said, rolling her eyes.

“Are those my cookies?” J’onn asked walking in to the room.

Ollie’s face flashed with anger. “I ain’t paying for no goddamn cookies!”

“You ordered that many cookies J’onn?” Diana asked.

“No” J’onn said. “That box is too big. Clark, did you scan it?”

“He did” Tim said. “Lead lined.”

“Lead lined?” Zauriel asked. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want Superman to see inside. Should we move it to a safer location?”
Gar turned into a gorilla. “I could smash it open.”

“Or we could use magic to pry it open” Zachary said. “Cousin?”

“Nepo” Zatanna said. The box did not move.

“Hmmph” Jason Blood grumbled. “What a load of -”

“Horse shit?” Rose suggested. “We could just burn the mother fu-”

“Language!” Cassie said, giving Rose a sharp elbow to the stomach and nodding to Billy in the corner.

Billy smiled. “Don’t mind me. I just want to know what’s in the box now. I’m curious. And dad says a healthy curiosity is a good thing to have.”

“To a point” Clark added. But we still don’t know what’s inside. I can’t see in. Your mother’s magic didn’t work. I’m beginning to think we might be in trouble here.”

“Yeah” Cassandra added. “My Bat-sense is tingling too now”

“Why is this even a discussion?” Mar’i asked, her hands lighting up with energy. “Let’s just blast the thing!”

“No” John said, throwing up a shield of green between Nightstar and the box. “What if it isn’t dangerous?”

“What if it is?” Mia asked. “we don’t exactly have the best record with receiving gifts around here. For all I know it might be another snake?”

“Another snake?!” Beatriz asked, wide-eyed.

“Long story” Mia replied.

“Are you sure it ain’t more of your damn cookies J’onn?” Ollie demanded.

“I am sure Oliver” J’onn replied. “I checked the tracking number and my package will not arrive until tomorrow.”

“Maybe the new girl should try to open it” Zachary said.

The whole room looked at Donna. “Me? But I just got here.”

“Forget it!” Kate snapped, her trademark Manhunter voice making an appearance. “If it has no name, nobody knows how it got here, it’s lead lined so Clark can’t see inside, Zatanna’s magics can’t open it. It might be something good, but I’m not taking a chance.” She walked over to a nearby terminal and punched in some coordinates. Soon, the box was being zeta’d off the Watchtower and sent away.

“Well” Kyle said. “That’s that then.”

“Where did you send that box Kate?” Wally asked.

On a calm and empty stretch of the Pacific Ocean, a pod of dolphins swam by. The sun warmed the water and all was right with nature. This peaceful day among the tides was interrupted when a box materialized, bobbing on the waves. “Hello?” a voice called out from inside. “Is anybody there?”

ANON HAVE MY BABIES PLEASE

Sheer beauty, I love every part of this

I need to tell you a story, Dick.

I know, I got lots of stories! Too much, some people might say. Like Queen, he's always telling me to shut the hell up. But what does he know, right? Just because he used to be soulmates with Hal and they had all those adventures together, it doesn't mean he knows what it's like to be a Green Lantern. He doesn't know. Nobody except Green Lanterns know.

So - right, so my story. Well the story goes like this, see: there was a time when you and me, we used to be friends. Bro kinfrins, remember? Awwww, c'mon, you remember. But then all these things happened that pulled us apart. Maybe they were our faults, the things I mean, and maybe they weren't. It's hard to say now. I know a lot of it was about Guy, and some of it was about Damian, and there was a little bit of Wally in there too.

Isn't it dumb how inconvenient and messy it gets sometimes having the same friends? Life is weird.

Anyhow! Yeah, we were tight once, man, but we stopped being close. And you went the way of the Bat and I went the way of the Ring. Which was cool, it was all chido because friends, they grow apart sometimes, right?

But then you let Damian get killed.

I know, I know I know I know. It wasn't your fault, you were in a bad place, you didn't have anybody to catch you from falling. I know, man, you had it rough. And I know, I know that I was out in deep space of no use to anybody, when if I'd been here on Earth I could've saved him without even skipping a breath, because I'm the best Green Lantern who ever lived.

We both know all that. So it's a good thing we never said it out loud to each other. Better to keep things to yourself, like Guy always said.

Even better to be friends, on the surface at least, in the absence of a scowl we'd both loved, a snapping tone we both adored. To drink to times past, without saying what those times were. To drink in the presence of his ghost.

But yeah, my story! I keep forgetting, Dick, that I was trying to tell you a story. My story goes like this: When I was in space, all these years, I've been changing. My ring could tell you how exactly I've changed, all the science of it down to the DNA and RNA. All I know is I'm different than how I used to be, the dumb Kyle you all knew and sorta loved. I'm different right down to the tiniest particles.

It hasn't changed my personality much. I don't think. Hal never said anything, back when Hal could still say things. But it made me faster, and stronger, and it made me able to take wounds and make sounds and digest stuff that a human body was never meant for.

It's a popular drink, Dick, Mell^rian Konk. At least, it is with the Mell^rians. I took them some bottles of Drano once and they acted like it was the finest champagne. It's a good thing my new and improved body can handle their alcohol. I might take them some paint thinner next time and see how they yum it up.

But jeez, I'm taking up all the airspace here! I should settle down for a while and let you get a word in edgewise. You're so quiet now, though, Dick! Didn't you like the Konk? Don't you wanna tell me any stories?

Heh, you know what - that's okay, amigo, no pressure. You take your time. I'll just sit here and wait.

Dick slammed another shot of tequila, and another, regarding Kyle with a pleasant smile as if he'd been sipping spring water and not his fifth round of hard liquor. Dios, the Bats were all crazy, even the ones that seemed normal most of the time. Had Bruce trained him to resist the effects of alcohol? Kyle imagined a row of little Robins in their red tunics and green booties, chugging from beer tankards while Batman walked their ranks and rapped the knuckles of anyone who hiccupped.

"I'm fine," Kyle promised, and he realized Dick hadn't asked. It felt like the appropriate disclaimer before throwing back the small glass, tequila rolling sour down his throat before he chased it with a salted lime. The room tilted when he brought his chin level with his gaze, and the relaxed muscles in his mouth couldn't quite prevent juice from the lime wedge trickling down his jaw.

Dick was halfway across the table, nimble fingers pressing into Kyle's wrists, and his tongue followed the sticky stripe of citrus. His eyelashes were long and dark against the high cheekbones that made him look like something sculpted, something etched across canvas with sloping lines and a heavy hand. The lashes fluttered, and up close like this, Dick's eyes revealed his drunken haze even if he'd seemed collected otherwise.

Their gaze connected a little too long, Dick's hands still firm on his arms, and Kyle felt the need to say something. "Lime is one of my favorite fruits, yum. Key lime pie is the best. Steph and I had this key lime pie in New Orleans and--"

"I love limes," Dick cut him off, kissing the lingering trail of juice under Kyle's mouth to prove his point. "I love anything that's green."

Kyle turned his head aside, but only a little, because he was too drunk for sudden movements and because he didn't hate this, not entirely. "Not anything, maybe? Just certain things that are green, that maybe you had once, and maybe you still want them back and maybe you don't really know. We're not interchangeable, Dick."

"I know that!" The shot glasses shattered on the floor as the table shook under the force of Dick dragging Kyle closer, and Kyle brought his arms up to grip Dick by the lapels of his stupid weird leather-cowboy jacket thing, what the hell, it was probably expensive but he wasn't going to be hauled around just because Dick drank enough to trip the lock of whatever vault held all his buried anger. "I'm sorry," Dick said, eyes widening in a moment of clarity, and he released Kyle and fell back into his chair.

Kyle shrugged and stuck a lime wedge in his mouth because this thing with Dick and Bette and Guy wasn't his business, and he didn't know what advice to give any of them, and he didn't think Dick was looking for advice, really. Dick met his eyes again after a moment's hesitance, and Kyle smiled at him with the green lime peel stuffed between his lips.

Dick threw his head back and laughed, and he carefully arranged a wedge in his mouth to mirror Kyle's green grin.

AHHH oh no oh no! And yet scary vengeful Kyle is so gratifying

Mmmmyes, I love me some darkfic, yessssssss

Awww, angsty/comical, boyyyyyyssssssss!

is it odd to say that this is somehow hotter because they DIDN'T get it on? perfect!

I'm free tomorrow afternoon to begin the process of having your babies. But one at a time please. Multiples might be too hard on me.

"They say he was one of the most beautiful and powerful of the foltdhubh, your father," Rose tells him, her nimble fingers rubbing through his hair. It's almost at harvest length, so she's careful with the strands, oiling them in small locks with enough tug to stimulate growth but not enough to pluck a single hair. That's her skill, the skill of all the shios girls. Damian lets himself lean back between Rose's knees as she talks and strokes.

"And my mother?" he asks. The greediness in his voice never lessens, no matter how much he hears this story. "Like a dream," Rose tells him. "Her hair was so long and glorious that one cold winter, when she had the desire to swim into a still pond, the sight of her dark hair floating out upon the water between the white lilies drove men mad to see it." Rose moves to Damian's scalp, anointing him with more of the thin clear oil, the heat of his skin scenting the air with chypre woods and clean fresh herbs.

The story never varies, but Damian never tires of it. He closes his eyes and hooks his arms over Rose's knees, prepared to pass the rest of this ritual basking in silence, but after a moment she adds something more. Something he hasn't heard before.

"Fhiùi Oliver knew your parents," Rose says, voice low. "They were all young together, back before the Ash Years."

Damian tries to turn to look at her, but Rose holds his head where it is. She doesn't say anything more.

--- --- ---

Mia has the task of harvest, as she is the first daughter of House Fhiùi. She doesn't take the responsibility seriously enough, to her father's displeasure, but as first daughter she also escapes the lord's wrath more often than not.

"Keep still," she tells Damian unnecessarily, petting through his hair as if he's one of the family's beloved antlered foxes. He raises his head to give her an impassive look and Mia laughs, shaking back her own golden curls, and gently pushes Damian's head down. The whole court watches him kneel at the harvest block, dressed in embroidered robes of a dark, shifting violet that echoes the living purple-black iridescence of his hair, his forehead pressed into the concave of the whitgold block.

"Life and memory," Mia says, her voice ringing loudly as she winds three of Damian's hairs around her fingers. "Name and family. Be ever present, an' it weave thee." She yanks and he feels the tiny prickle, sitting back to watch as Mia mounts the dias and presents the hairs to her lord father, who sonorously replies, "An' it weave thee," the words barely out before Mia interrupts with a kiss to his bearded face that causes her nurse to make a strangled noise. Laughing again, Mia sits in her own throne as Oliver gives her a pained look and then gestures to the woman with a scarred head who has been standing next to Damian.

Bowing, Mari moves forward to do the actual work of the harvest. Her hands aren't gentle on Damian's head as she fletches and cards his hair, using the small, forever-sharp whitgold knife to slice it off close to his skull. Damian watches his hair collect in the ceremonial green basket, wondering if that was how his mother's hair looked on that cold winter morning when she longed to feel the chill water on her body. Mari's fingers press into his scalp until it hurts, but Damian savors the discomfort. She was foltdhubh once, like Damian, but her hair was torn out by poachers when she was a child, left mutilated. Now she is shios like white-haired Rose.

Lord Oliver no doubt thought the position was a kindness, putting Mari among the shios in his castle instead of sending her to toil in the fields or to work among the weavers, but Damian knows better. He can feel her pain and anger every time she shears him. He's seen the way she holds her whitgold knife when she sits in the kitchens, fury in her too-big eyes.

Mari smells of lilies, and of ashes. Her hair must have been even more beautiful than his own. It will never grow back.

--- --- ---

"You're growing so quickly," Lord Oliver says to Damian one evening. He's a restless man and stays up half the night, roaming the halls and stairways of his castle as if he's both haunting and haunted, holding conversation with whoever he meets regardless of position. House Fhiùi is well-known for two things: the wealth it has accrued from its foltdhubh tapestries, and the mercurial, curious natures of its members.

Damian is accustomed to these late-night encounters, and when he inclines his head in response, the lord reaches out to skate one large, rough hand over the boy's shorn skull. He brings his hand down the side of Damian's face, drawing his thumb between Damian's eyebrows and then cupping his jaw to hold Damian still. Damian lets himself be inspected, a faraway look in Fhiùi Oliver's eyes that gets darker and darker until Damian asks, "Do I remind you of them?"

The lord's fingers tighten, digging painfully into the hinge of Damian's jaw before he snatches his hand away. He says nothing, just turns and stalks in long, angry strides out of the room.

--- --- ---

Damian goes to his room and pries one of the stones from the wall, reaching into the cold to extract a bundle of oilcloth. There is no need for him to hide anything he owns, the family has never denied him anything he could desire and they respect his private belongings, but Damian nevertheless keeps this hidden out of some wild, desperate need.

He unbundles the oilcloth, unwraps the velvet underneath, and unfurls the thick section of tapestry from inside. It would be only enough to wear across his chest, were he grown; it covers his lap as he sits on his bed with it.

The dark violet threads glint in the candlelight and Damian looks at each corner separately, taking in the intricate scrolling borders before moving his gaze to the middle, the antlered fox stooping to drink at a lily pond, the black moon above the tableau. He touches the threads lightly, imagining that the more ebon black ones are his father's hair, the rich chestnut-tinted ones his mother's. He imagines what it must have been like, before the Ash Years, before the Weeping King had begun the burnings, before the War in the Weeds had brought stability back to the land. Before so many of the foltdhubh had died in the fires.

Damian brings the tapestry up to his face and inhales the scent, so hard it makes him dizzy, and falls back onto his bed. When he dreams, it is of sinking fast into deep purple waters and finding only weeds of golden hair beneath.

I'm gonna have to read this a whole bunch of times to get the nuances but DAMN, anon. DAMN.

"Stop moving," Ollie murmured, sliding his hands up Steph's parted thighs. "Goddammit, Stephanie. Can't you keep still for anything?" He pressed his palms down against her hips and Steph gasped, pushing up against his strong grip, feeling her skin stretch taut.

"Not if I can help it, Olliewood," she laughed, raising her arms over her head so she could twine her fingers through the brassworks of her bedhead. The soft morning sun warmed her bare skin, turned her hair and Ollie's feathery lemon yellow, brightened her rumpled white bedsheets almost to blinding. "Don't let me distract you, though." She arched her back, giving him a show as her rounded breasts swelled, wanting his mouth on her. Ollie huffed a warm, damp breath on the inside of her thigh and then nosed forward, swiping his tongue into her, all the way up along her until he could close his mouth over her clit, sucking sharply.

Steph squealed, grabbing onto the bedhead, trying to wriggle her hips to get free or press in harder or something, as long as she could move. But Ollie kept her pinned and open for his mouth, moving down from there to swirl his tongue all through her wetness and plunge inside her, stroking firmly. It wasn't just his tongue that was providing sensation; apart from his hands on her hips, Steph could feel the scratch of his moustache and beard, the movement of his lips, the long bridge of his nose slipping along her slick, intimate skin.

Pulling back to lick a long stripe along Steph's thigh, Ollie paused for a while, panting and laying his cheek against her leg. "Christ almighty, girl," he said, looking up at her, nose shiny. "Wet as springtime."

"Do I taste like tulips and daffodils?" Steph asked brightly, and Ollie grinned. "Better," he said, voice roughening. "Morning dew and sea salt. You're fuckin' making my mouth water."

"So why are you still talking?"

Ollie snapped his teeth at Steph and moved back between her legs, the pointed tip of his tongue flicking against the hood of her clit; just enough to make Steph keen and screech, wanting more contact, steadier pressure. Ollie eased up on her hips and she snapped them upwards immediately, rubbing hard against his mouth, his teeth. "Come on!" Steph urged. Ollie scooped her knees over his shoulders, leaning forward so Steph was rolled onto her lower back, more exposed for his mouth as Ollie started gently biting and sucking at her in earnest. Steph shimmied her boobs and arms in delight, panting and gasping in time with Ollie's tongue twisting around her swollen oversensitized clit. She was so close, her walls clenching and contracting, and then -

- then Ollie moved back again, dipping his tongue softly against the entrance to her, licking easily into all her soaked crevices. "Wouldn't want to have it all over so soon," he murmured, the low register of his voice thrumming against her, and Steph threw back her head with a happy shout.

"Happy birthday to me!"

This took my breath away, really. It's so delicate and intricate, all these threads of the past hinted at throughout the ceremony taking place. Absolutely beautiful, and it truly felt like something from an epic fantasy-- I just loved it

HOT and cute! <3

You just became my hero. So hot and funny. <3

“Well, I - I never knew you felt this way, Big Guy” Ollie stammered, smiling.

“I have known your feelings for quite some time now Oliver” J’onn grinned. “I hope you do not mind the intrusion.”

“Not if it means you know what I want” Ollie said. “Not if it means you can sense what feels good to me.”

“It means exactly that” J’onn said, bending down slightly to kiss Green Arrow firmly. His tongue explored the inside of the archer’s mouth while his hands began to untie and unbutton the archer’s clothes slowly but deliberately.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this J’onny?” Ollie asked.

“I am sure” J’onn answered as he pulled Ollie’s shirt off. “I am as sure as I have been in a long time.” ~

~ “What in the hell is all this shit?” Guy shouted. The Martian Manhunter and the Emerald Archer both turned as Guy Gardner burst into the room. He had been looking for J’onn because he needed help, but did not expect to see what he saw. “When did, uh, how did, ah, what now?”

“Knock it off Gardner!” Ollie snapped back. “We’re kinda in the middle of something here. So either get in here, shut the door and join us - or get fucking lost!”

“Ollie” J’onn said, “he was simply surprised. His mind was unprepared for what he saw and he is having trouble processing this scene.”

“Trouble processing?” Guy asked, slamming the door behind him. “I’ll show you trouble processing. Come here!” He hooked a finger into one of J’onn’s nostrils and dragged him across the room before bonking him on top of his bald head.

“Ow!” J’onn yelped.

“Leave him alone!” Ollie yelled.

“Oh, you want a piece too?” Guy asked before bonking Ollie on the head and boxing his ears. “Let that be a lesson to the both of you!”

J’onn began pawing at the ground with his foot like a bull. “Why I oughta ~”

“Can it slim!” Guy said.

“Aw Guy, we was just foolin’ around” Ollie said. “Say, when did you go back to the bowl cut? Ow!”

Guy poked Ollie in both eyes. “Wise guy, eh?” he asked. “Next time don’t be so eager to find ~” Gardner’s threat was interrupted when a pie slammed him full in the face.

“Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!” J’onn laughed.

Guy ringed up a large hand that wiped the pie from his face. “That’s the last mistake you’ll ever make baldy!”

“Aw Guy, lighten up” J’onn snickered. “You look good enough to eat!”

“I’ll show you good enough to eat!” Guy replied, ringing up a pair of pliers that snapped on J’onn’s nose.

“Yeeeeouch!” J’onn hollered.

“Let him go Guy!” Ollie yelled. He turned to see Green Arrow had nocked a pie arrow and aimed it at his face.

“Now, see here Arrow!” Guy said. “Don’t make any mistakes that you can’t ~” Ollie let loose the pie arrow but Gardner ducked. It hit J’onn square in the face.

“Woooaaaaaahhhhay!” the Martian screamed before charging at Oliver and knocking him over. J’onn flipped the archer over on his stomach and began spanking Ollie’s posterier.

“Uncle!” Ollie called out. “Uncle! Uncle!!!”

“Haw haw haw” Guy laughed. “Look at you two knuckleheads! Why, if I could take a picture for all the League to see!” Ollie and J’onn both looked at Guy, looked at each other, then looked back at Guy smiling this time. “No, no” Guy said. “Now wait a minute fellas.”

Ollie punched Guy in the belly. J’onn kicked him in the knee. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” the Lantern yelped. Ollie tried for an eye poke like the one he had received, but Guy was quick enough to raise his hand and block the poke before it landed. “Nyahhhh!” he said sticking out his tongue at Ollie. J’onn quickly took the opportunity and snatched Guy’s tongue in the pliers he formed out of his right hand. “Wuh?” Guy mumbled.

Ollie successfully went back for an eye poke, this time with two hands so he could not be blocked. J’onn twisted Guy’s tongue with his hand pliers. Ollie reached over and yanked both of Guy’s ears. The Lantern grimaced in pain.

“Wah-ha-haaa!” the archer guffawed.

“Nyuk nyuk nyuk!” the Martian giggled.

“You think that’s funny?” Guy asked. The Lantern stood up and grabbed both of his laughing teammates by their heads and knocked them together. The sound, not unlike the sound of coconuts knocking together, sent Guy into his own fit of laughter. Oliver Queen and J’onn J’onzz saw and heard tiny little birds circling their heads. Guy Gardner’s bowl cut shook as he laughed.

For some reason the sound of a violin began to play ‘Three Blind Mice’ as the world around them faded.

YOU SCALAWAG I FUCKIN' HATE THE STOOGES

AND YET

HERE I AM LAUGHING LIKE A LOON AT THIS

WELL PLAYED ANON, WELL PLAYED

Wh, thanks toots!

"What I can't decide," Kate said, "is if it's only me you want to sleep with, or if it's Ollie, too."

Guy froze, fingers suddenly feeling thick and clumsy clutching the soldering iron and chipsets he was working with. Kate hadn't even paused in scrolling and tapping on her transparent wafer-thin Queen Industries techpad; she was still sitting on the sofa across from him, cool and lovely, nary a change in her voice from its usual let's-be-friendly-but-stay-on-your-own-side modulation. Guy looked down, carefully setting aside his implements.

"If you're going to be making speculations on my deviant personal life," he said, pitching his voice quiet to match hers, "you could at least give it your full attention."

"You're right. I'm sorry, Guy." When he looked up again she had set the techpad aside. She re-crossed her long, smooth, bare legs and smiled, every move contained and coiled, and Guy remembered how much better at this kind of game she was. He had a rein on his own emotions, that was true and necessary, but deep down he -- well, the Other Guy -- was a mass of constant unrestrainable motion, bursting out from all sides like a star going kablooey. Sometimes taking out innocent planets and lifeforms with it, if he was very unlucky.

And Guy Gardner had never been all that lucky.

"Hey." Kate's voice startled him, so close; while he'd been ruminating she'd gotten up and come over, was looking at him with concern. One dark wing of hair fell forward as she leaned in, scrutinizing him, and coming up with the right answer, of course: "It's been three years without an incident, Guy. You're doing well. You're not the same as you were."

None of them were. Five years since Bruce had formed the Avengers Initiative, three years since Guy's fractured mind had turned him into the Red Hulk, sent him to live in isolation in the Rockies for six long, tumultuous months as his psyche shattered and re-formed in bouts of violence that reduced long stretches of forest to splintered scars. Only coming back to New York after Ollie and SHIELD had collaborated on another (newer, better, stronger) containment pod for him, after Clark and Kyle came to fetch him. It had taken their combined strength (plus liberal application of the vibranium shield and sacred Mjolnir) to subdue Red Hulk; it had taken their unshakable faith in Guy to bring him back. It was...not a good time.

Kate put one slim, cool hand on Guy's arm, squeezing, and he stared at her fingers. "Not the same for you either," he said, to say something.

"No," Kate agreed after letting a beat pass, and moved her hand to the magnet reactor embedded in her chest, her fingernails making the tiniest tik sound against it. The unbidden wonder rose in Guy's mind as to whether or not when she was in bed with Ollie, their reactors clanked together, and he stifled a choked laugh at the thought. It wasn't all that funny. But then, being an Avenger seemed to mean you caught your laughs when you could.

(This was something Guy had realized when he'd been avoiding everybody except Diana and Candy, figuring that their ledgers of murderous espionage and misguided mind-control were the most comfortable ones to settle with in the throes of his Red Hulk guilt. Candy made a lot of unflinchingly bitter jokes and Diana laughed at each one, and for a while so did Guy, until it dawned on him that neither woman found the jokes funny. Like most of the group's behaviours, it served as stopgap therapy and a vent for the secret, locked-up suffering that the Widow and Hawkeye carried with them. He stopped laughing at Candy's jokes after that.)

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Kate said suddenly, and Guy frowned as her voice did something he hadn't heard before; it was rushed, harsh, abraded. She was staring intently at him, waiting until their gazes caught and locked before she continued, "It's about when we brought you back, the counselling, pulling your dissociations back together. I want to tell you that you're not the only-"

Ollie burst into the room then, in a shower of words and energy, and Guy was sure that if he squinted just right he'd be able to see sparks coming off him. For as long as Guy had known Ollie, he hadn't entered a room any other way. Which was fine by Guy, really. Easier to not be noticed if somebody else was sucking up all the air and attention and excitement.

Which of course meant Ollie noticed him. "What's going on with this little confab here?" he demanded, eyes bright and a touch glassy as he came over and slung a careless arm around Kate's hips. "Making time with my woman over memories and motherboards?"

Guy watched Ollie lean in to kiss Kate, watched her make the kiss shorter than Ollie wanted, watched her grimly lick her lips after she pulled away. It wasn't hard to understand. Even from the other side of the standalone work counter Guy could smell the expensive aftershave and single-malt scotch clinging to Ollie. Eau de Poor Little Rich Boy, Ollie'd laughingly called it once, even though that wasn't funny then either, blood dripping down Ollie's face to punctuate his words.

"I have to go," Guy said, collecting his work. The sharp corners of the boards and tools dug into his palms but felt good, and Ollie waved him away, attention already turned entirely on Kate and whatever else more important he had to think of. She was saying something to Ollie in an urgent, angry undertone that was still chapped from what she'd been about to say to Guy earlier; Ollie's response, Guy heard just before he opened the doors to let himself out, was no less angry but also unmistakably full of desire. A matching note to Kate's, Guy realized. Maybe their reactors didn't clank when they were in bed. Maybe the eerie light from them fused, melded; maybe when Kate threw her head back and Ollie dragged his mouth up the elegant line of her throat as they moved together, those batteries nested in their chests only provided more fuel, magnetizing them to each other. Maybe they didn't know anymore how to separate the reactors or themselves even when they should.

Maybe Kate was more right than she knew.

GODDAMN, ANON, HERE ARE MY FEELS.

It had been a long morning in LA, and Manhunter was a mass of confused and irritated emotion as she zetaed back up to the Watchtower for a debrief. She had only been drinking an Americano in her local coffee shop, shifting in her seat as she tried to prep for a day of arraignments, which was the last thing she'd actually wanted to be doing on a gorgeous spring day.

Okay, okay, she had a touch of spring fever, but Kate was planning to embrace the now. She was, actually, planning how to rearrange her schedule so she could get away sooner (get back to bed sooner, fine, fucking her husband sooner, let's not be coy here), slurping the dregs of her coffee, at the time some fuckheads burst through the door yelling something about the Bloods getting up into the wrong person's business and how this was their territory.

The gangbangers would have been fine to deal with even without Kate ducking under the table to get into her suit, were it not for the goddamn weapon they'd had that zapped her. It had looked like alien tech, at a glance, and left her woozy for a moment or two. As it were, a couple got away from her, a couple more left moaning due to staff blasts across the floor, and Manhunter was eventually on the phone to Damon to ask him to cover all of her court appearances, there had been A Situation, I don't fucking know, tell the judge I got a concussion, it's probably true.

She had to get out of there, the smell was driving her insane, dark roast clinging in her nostrils, and she was wet as hell for no good goddamn reason.

Or maybe not no goddamn reason.

"Well," Dr. Smith said, and did he look a little amused by this? Kate was tempted to smack him. "It looks like the scrambler they have isn't working so well, which is good news for you. Whomever found it probably got it from a crashed Lincarean craft, that'd explain the malfunction."

"Is this dizzy bullshit going away?" asked Kate, blinking a few times. She'd felt blank, empty, since she'd gotten up here, all of the heat of the battle and need between her thighs having ebbed away. "What exactly did they do to me? And could be running around LA doing to random people, as we sit here..."

"Ay, chica, it's all good," someone said from the doorway, before a second voice chimed in.

"We picked them up in Westwood, rings detected extraterrestrial tech. Don't worry about it, sweetheart, just try to get better." Guy wandered into the medbay, a small green construct cup carrier in hand, as Kyle trailed after him.

"We brought you a latte," Kyle chirped as they drew in close, handing her over the biodegradable cup. "I know how you get if someone interrupts your morning constitutional...Kate. Kaaaaate, why are you looking at me like that?"

Kate had taken a sip, then bit her lip hard, squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to shove away some very vivid mental pictures of a Lantern sandwich, two pairs of hands all over her, the warmcool pressure of a construct, the--

"Okay, doctor, WHAT the fuck is wrong with my brain?" she spat out, to everyone else's surprise. Frustratingly, she ended up having to spell it out for him, her cheeks heating. "Coffee. Horny. Will not stop."

"I was getting there," said Dr. Smith, looking sort of put out. "The Lincarean pistol crossed neural pathways, linked things in your limbic centers that were there at the time of the shooting. Apparently, the taste and scent of coffee...and sex." He gave her a faintly disapproving look. She glared back; like fuck was she going to let him judge her for being in control of her own sexuality. Or, as it happened, not so much anymore.

There was silence for a long moment, before Kyle said, "Well, that's awk--" before Guy did something that sounded to Kate like stepping hard on his foot.

"How long is this going to last," she said, finally, voice low and dangerous, because god, it was starting to get to her again, the bittersweet taste of coffee on her tongue, lingering like she'd gone down on someone. Maybe it was stupid to have slept with or fooled around with her friends, or maybe she needed to never have coffee again in public.

Dr. Smith shrugged. "Hard to say," he admitted. "You may just need to train new pathways, relink old ones. It could have a serious impact on your sex life--"

"Think we should probably go," Guy murmured, with Kyle making a soft assent. It was just as well they tiptoed out, because what Dr. Smith said next had Kate turning the hot beverage into a projectile.

"You mean I probably can't GET OFF without this shit?!"

((to be continued))

Despite all potential evidence to the contrary previously, Oliver Queen was getting fucking sick of coffee running his life.

Of having to hole up with Mia and an espresso machine in the other side of the apartment when Kate had to absolutely not be distracted in the mornings, just so they could get a quick cup in before work and school.

Of brushing his teeth in his office bathroom before he went home so his wife wouldn't jump him (this happened, and it was fun only the first half dozen times, seriously).

Of the fact that he couldn't kiss Kate anymore, deep in the fog and fire of passion, without that unmissable taste and tang coming along with it. Not even when she'd just had him in her mouth, brought him to his knees with some serious tongue talent; not even kissing her after he'd knelt between her legs and made her scream. It was always there, in the background or layered fine across the top.

They'd tried, of course, to make it work otherwise, but even when they seemed close to having a breakthrough, it never seemed to last. She was stuck this way until her brain rewired itself, which could take months, even years.

It wasn't like Kate and Ollie weren't able to talk through it, to express frustration, to figure things out on a psychological level. It was the emotional level that was the problem, and it wasn't like either of them were particularly good at getting that right. Even when they put in an effort, they were still raging against the invisible bonds that restricted them, including this one.

Poetic, and probably apt to both personalities. It just didn't get them anywhere.

"Look, Ollie, I think you're going at this the wrong way," Mar'i said to him, sipping her cafeteria smoothie through a long curly straw. "You're taking it from a negative approach rather than a positive one."

"But it is a negative."

Mar'i sighed and pursed her lips around the end of the straw for a moment, chewing on it a couple of times as if she were biting back retorts. "Don't whine, Oliver," she said finally, and made a face back at him as he stuck out his tongue at her. "That's the first thing. Second is that it's pretty sound psychology--if you're going to train someone to do something, to make those neural connections, positive reinforcement always, always gets the best results."

Ollie considered this for a second, then sighed. "I'm just so goddamn sick of coffee," he admitted. "I mean, yeah, it could be worse, it could be like, I don't know, needing to wear a pony tail and riding crop or something--not judging, just REALLY not my thing--to have fulfilling sex. But I miss how things were. I want it to be like that again, and both of us know it can't."

"Then maybe you need to make what it is now really damn good," Mar'i said, eyes narrowing as she looked at him. "Make this just as special."

"Yeah," Ollie said, and folded his hands in front of him on the table, staring down at them, at skin and callus and nails and her ring. Hers. "Actually, Mar'i...I think I might have something."

((TBC))

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

PROMPTS C - CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS

no subject

The Tudors-ish, GA/any

no subject

three ships

Manhunter, java

Damian (if young no sex please)

GA/BATGIRL, cunnilingus

no subject

multiple pairings, Titans

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

in vino veritas - dick + kyle

no subject

Re: in vino veritas - dick + kyle

Re: in vino veritas - dick + kyle

no subject

no subject

no subject

the weft and the warp

Re: the weft and the warp

Sun Sun Twenty-One - Ollie/Steph

Re: the weft and the warp

Re: Sun Sun Twenty-One - Ollie/Steph

Re: Sun Sun Twenty-One - Ollie/Steph

Three Blind Mice: the Sexy Threesome You Didn't Know You Wanted

Re: Three Blind Mice: the Sexy Threesome You Didn't Know You Wanted

Re: Three Blind Mice: the Sexy Threesome You Didn't Know You Wanted

(dis)assemble

Re: (dis)assemble

clouds in my coffee, part one (Kate/coffee)

clouds in my coffee, part two (Kate/coffee)