general opinion: actual love of my life (Steve Trevor is an embodiment of everything that’s good and kind and redeeming about the human world. I love the dude so much! Even more than I love Captain Kirk. That’s saying something!)
hotness level: theoretically hot but not my type (Well only because he’s too good for me. I’d be uncomfortable banging an angel like that knowing I can’t be with him as something more.)
hogwarts house: hufflepuff (Because his need to do the right thing, his loyalty, his compassion, his basic goodness is the reason for his eventual act of ultimate courage, and not the other way round!)
best quality: His ability to find pieces of beauty and humor even in the middle of chaos
worst quality: I actually can’t think of any. Does being dead count?
ship them with: Diana… there is no one else who deserves this man, infinite times more amazing than an entire army of gods.
brotp them with: Sameer, his dear Turkish friend who is, and I quote, not sure whether to be aroused or intimidated by Diana. On second thoughts, even Etta would be great. Steve’s secretary reminds me of Dorota from Gosspi Girl! And everyone needs a bro like Dorota.
needs to stay away from: His fucking boss, Sir Patrick Morgan! Dude was always a nefarious little bitch!
misc. thoughts: Steve, you made your dad proud. And us. But boy did you kill us in the process!
@legendsofsuperflarrowmemes - fill #2, for prompt #99
Fic: prompt 99 (ao3 link)
Fandom: Flash/Legends
Pairing: Barry Allen/Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
summary: Coldflashwave. Mick and Barry tag team Len. Or dp.
A/N: this one is for @kickingshoes, who at some point said something about wanting to draw more Len/Barry/Mick action, so - for inspiration!
Warning: adult content
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“We just want you to feel welcome,” Barry says earnestly.
“Know you didn’t have the easiest time of it, with the Legion,” Mick adds.
“Given that you were fighting basically everyone all at once,” Barry says.
“Partially my fault,” Mick notes. “The Legion being sucky for you. But in my defense, you were a dick when you were brainwashed.”
“So we thought – what would make Len happy?” Barry continues.
“We discounted the obvious,” Mick says.
“Ice, cold gun, etc.” Barry agrees. “Too straightforward.”
“And I got to thinking,” Mick says. “What would Len have missed?”
“And he came to me and suggested that to help you recover in your post-brainwashing period, when you didn’t remember me at all, maybe I should be more thoroughly involved in your recovery.”
“It’s very important to have familiar objects around during recovery,” Mick agrees. “My shrink’s told me so a million times.”
“So, really, it’s therapeutic, too. But in a good way!”
“Therapy for everyone, really,” Mick says. “It’s both a gift and group therapy.”
“Everyone’s been on me to go to therapy, actually. So you’re really helping me out here, too,” Barry says.
“All for the best,” Mick says. “See? Properly heroic-like of you, just the way you turned out in the original timeline.”
“Well, anti-heroic, really. Len’s always been ambiguous, even with the Legends.”
“Yeah, true.”
“You’re both totally insane,” Len says. “Untie me this instant.”
Barry pets his head. Len’s hair has grown out a bit, so it’s nice and fluffy, and the salt is thoroughly intermixed with the pepper.
He’s at just the right height to pet him, too, since Len is on his knees on the bed, naked, with hands bound behind him and legs bound apart.
“We gave you a safeword, boss,” Mick reminds him. “You want out, you can always use that.”
“Maybe I want you to come to your senses regardless.”
Mick and Barry exchange smirks.
That most definitely was not the safeword they agreed on, and that meant fun time was on.
“I don’t think that’s what you want,” Barry says casually, letting his hands continue to caress Len’s head, slipping down to circle his temples, his cheeks, a swipe of a thumb across his plush lower lip, red as if he’d been biting them. “I think you want something else.”
“I agree with Scarlet here,” Mick says. “He’s got a point.”
“He does not. I want you to untie me and I want to get out of here. That’s all I want.”
Mick knows for a fact that Len can dislocate several joints if he wants to get out of rope bindings. He nods shallowly at Barry, who relaxes, the worried expression fleeing his face like it’s never been.
“I think we know a bit better than you what you want,” Barry says confidently. Len always did like him best when he was being all cocky.
“There’s only one problem,” Mick says, reaching out and running his fingers down Len’s spine, watching his partner shiver a little at the ghost of sensation. “See, Barry here and I agreed to split you –”
Len snorts.
Mick smirks. He knows Leonard Snart better than anyone else, dead or alive, and if there was one thing the man can't resist, it's a godawful pun.
“– but we can’t really decide who gets what,” he continues after a moment’s pause. He’s running his hands along Len’s hips, now, thumbing at the indents made by Len’s hips. Squeezing just a little. Barry’s still stroking Len’s face; Len’s eyes are fixed on him, pupils dilated.
He’s been hard since he woke up in this position, so that much isn’t new.
“At first, Barry here suggested that we split the difference,” Mick continues, dropping his voice down low to the register he knows Len likes best. “He generously offered to take that pretty mouth of yours, fuck you quiet like I know he’s been dying to since day one, make you gag on him and come on your pretty little face –”
Len swallows. His nakedness means he can’t hide it when his cock twitches, no matter how expressionless he tries to keep his face.
“And me, of course, I’d get to fuck your tight ass. Maybe I’d eat you out first, get you all sloppy and open, and then I’d just slide right in. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You always have. Hell, I’m amazed you didn’t jump me out in that battlefield, back in World War I. Must’ve been an epic struggle for a slut like you, seeing what you want in front of you and not getting it.”
Len presses his lips tighter, but his cheeks are flushed.
Barry’s not unmoved by Mick’s recital, either; he’s gone bright red and he’s breathing a bit hard, shifting a little from foot to foot. He’s only wearing a set of sweatpants and a long-sleeved STAR Labs t-shirt, all the better for easy access, and there’s a pretty decently sized tent in the front of them, smear of pre-come starting to darken a spot in the front.
“But then, see, I thought to myself that that was just limiting ourselves,” Mick continues, stepping forward, cupping Len’s chin and forcing his gaze up to meet Mick’s eyes. “I’m gonna wreck that pretty little ass of yours,” he purrs. “Me and Scarlet, both of us. Forget all that bullshit about trauma recovery that those assholes on the ship or in the lab were spouting. That’s what you really need, to get that scheming little brain fucked right out of you. That’s what you want.”
He reaches out blind and catches Barry, reeling him in. “That what you want, Lenny?” he asks, turning his face away from where he’s still got Len’s chin pointed up at him. He pulls Barry into a kiss, makes it deep and long and wet, makes it good, forces Len to watch him slipping the speedster some tongue, watch how Barry moans and wraps his hands around Mick’s neck, how he rubs against Mick’s body desperately. Mick’s in a pair of jeans, the old ones that were always Len’s favorites, rough in texture but worn soft by use, the ones that are so tight they look like they’ve been painted on. His cheap white tank shows off his arms, his burns that he’s so proud of, and it’s already been soaked through with sweat, translucent all the way down to his chest.
Len makes a choked little mewling sound.
Gotcha.
“Don’t worry,” Mick says, pulling away from a panting Barry, who’s eyes have gone gratifyingly wide. “I’m not gonna make you beg for it – ” This time, his voice promises, dark and silky. “– I’m gonna let you show us how much you want it through your actions. That’s the important part with Lenny here, Scarlet; you gotta watch what he does.”
Mick wraps an arm around an unresisting Barry and pushes him forward until he’s right in front of Barry, dropping Len’s chin – Len doesn’t move his head an inch – to push Barry’s sweats down his thighs, letting his cock bob free right in front of Len’s mouth and his balls all tight up beneath them.
“Barry here’s just begging for it,” Mick says. “Can’t you tell?” He drops his hand down and gives Barry’s cock a quick pull.
Barry moans.
“Maybe I should just get him off myself,” Mick muses. “Don’t need you, do I?”
Len licks his lips.
“But you want him, don’t you?” Mick smirks and pulls his hands away, leaving Barry swaying.
He pops the button of his jeans, drawing both Barry and Len’s attention to his hands as he slowly drags the zipper down and pulls out his own cock. He’s bigger than Barry, thicker by far. Barry’s maybe a little longer and curves to the side, he observes, unlike his own. But you know what they say - variety is the spice of life.
“You want this, too, though,” he says. “So lucky you. You get both. Get us nice and wet, boss; you’re gonna want us ready to go later.”
Len glares up at him, eyes narrow and dangerous, but that doesn’t keep him from opening his mouth when Mick guides Barry into his mouth, or from hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks on his nemesis’ cock.
“You’re gonna think of this every time he looks at you on the battlefield,” Mick whispers in Barry’s ear, and Barry groans and jerks his hips forward.
Chuckling, Mick moves himself forward, too, grabbing the back of Len’s head to pull him off with a pop. “Don’t forget me,” he reminds his partner, and then he releases him.
Len so revved up, he doesn’t even take the time to roll his eyes before he’s on them, head bobbing up and down on Mick’s cock for a minute before turning his attention to running his mouth down the side of Barry’s. It’s the hottest thing Mick’s ever seen, including porn, and Len’s taking it like a pro.
“We’re gonna do this again,” he says. Promises. “Next time we’re fighting, Flash is gonna kidnap you, pull you away into a closet, and he’s gonna steal me away, and you’ll have both hands free that time, too – gonna let you jerk us both off while we’re waiting for you to suck us off – you wearing that stupid parka of yours –”
“Jesus, Mick,” Barry says. He’s got a hand clenched on Len’s shoulder for balance, the other one holding onto Mick’s arm. He’s got sweat rolling down his face. “You’ve got a dirty mind.”
“You can’t say you didn’t think about it,” Mick retorts. “Now, Lenny, show him what you can do, will you?”
Len hums in agreement and slides Barry in deeper in a fluid motion, gags himself on Barry’s cock until his nose is pressed up into the patch of hair right above Barry’s cock.
“Holy crap!”
“Bet you didn’t think that was possible outside of porn,” Mick laughs. He certainly hadn’t, not until the first time Len’d done it for him – it’d been a surprise to them both, a surprise they’d both taken their sweet and most enjoyable time in exploring.
“Fuck – I’m not – it’s gonna –”
“Go for it,” Mick says, stroking his own dick. “Come in his mouth. You’ll get it back up by the time we’re ready to fuck him.”
That just gets Len to suck even harder.
“I want –” Barry pants. “You said earlier –”
Mick laughs. Kinky little speedster. He can see why Len liked him so much. “You wanna come on his face, huh?”
He reaches out and grabs Len’s head, one hand on his head to steady him and the other by the chin, pulling his mouth open.
“He wants you to,” he says to Barry, who’s started thrusting helplessly into Len’s slack mouth, fucking in good, using him just the way Len liked it. “C’mon – mark him up – have that image in your head every time you go after him, every heist, every team-up, every meeting out all alone in the woods –”
Barry pulls out and strokes himself once, twice, and then he’s coming.
Mick knew that encounter in the woods was more charged than either of them had been admitting.
“There you go,” he says, running his thumb along Len’s lower lip, catching some of the come that was dripping down and smearing it in.
Len’s panting now, all defensiveness gone, expressionless mask a distant memory. His cock is red and dripping.
“Wonder if you remember the first time we did this,” Mick muses, pulling away to grab Len. Len makes it easy, wiggling into position, letting Mick lift him onto his cock. “I used a toy on you, slide it right in alongside me. You remember that?”
“Yeah,” Len says. “Yeah.”
“Think you can do it again?”
Mick’s glad they stretched and lubed Len up earlier, because he’s still slick inside, still open, and he’s able to just slide right in to Len’s groan of pleasure.
“Mick,” Len pants. “Mick – Mick – Mick –”
Mick loves having Len moan his name like it’s the only thought left in that brilliant brain of his.
“Barry’s next,” he says in Len’s ear. “Look at him, he’s getting hard again already, just at the sight of you. He’s gonna climb onto this bed and I’m gonna hoist you up, and he’s gonna slide in right next to me. You’re gonna be filled up, Lenny, just the way you like it.”
“Oh god,” Len groans, and lolls his head back.
He’s definitely not objecting.
Barry does just as Mick says, stretching Len open first with his fingers, sliding the narrow digits right in beside Mick’s cock, and then replacing them with his cock.
Even Mick has to groan when Barry slides in, the tightness doubled, the feeling of Barry’s cock hot against him.
“You like that, don’t you?” he says, barely knowing if he’s talking to Len, or Barry, or himself. “Yeah, you do –”
And then Barry starts fucking vibrating, and they’re both thrusting and Len is shouting and coming all over himself, Barry’s hand on his cock and Mick’s arms around him and Mick’s only a few minutes behind.
Barry pulls out, still hard, and jerks himself off all over the two of them, lying there curled up on the bed. He’s got a thing for marking people, their little speedster. Possessive little superhero.
Mick grunts and pulls himself out, too, enjoying the sight of how his come drips out of Len’s ass to mingle with Len’s own, and Barry’s too.
“Nice,” Mick says.
“We are definitely doing this again,” Barry says.
“Naturally,” Len says, grabbing Barry’s arm – wait, when did he get out of the ropes? Goddamn sneak thief – and pulling the speedster into his arms, very pointedly snuggling back against Mick with every evident intention of the three of them staying put. “I need a lot of therapy. We all do.”
“Group therapy really is the most effective,” Mick says.
Barry rolls his eyes and laughs, but he stays, which is what’s important.
She wore yellow on her wedding day. Against custom, against tradition, she wore yellow. They wanted her to wear red. Her mother gifted her a brilliant red saari too for the occasion. But its fiery hue, too bright against her skin, reminded her of a time she did not remember. She has never owned red since then. Because red was once smeared on her hands. And it looked wrong. Alas, she didn’t live long enough to see what else the red of her wrath brought upon the child of her heart.
Crossover
One of her major fights with Ajith was about Amresh’s schooling. In keeping with his own upbringing in Florence, Prague, and New York City, he wanted to send Amresh to the St. Jude's School for Boys in Manhattan-- under the care of his good friend Harold Waldorf and his wife Eleanor Waldorf. But she put her foot down. Her son was already a quiet, withdrawn child. She wasn’t willing to send him to school half a world away.
Fear
How strange that despite begging him to return home every other week, she was only relieved when he refused each time. Was it possible for a mother to not truly love her child?
Mythological Creature
The story of Kamdhenu, the Sacred Cow had always fascinated her as a child. As a married woman, what wouldn’t she give to ask for one wish of that holy creature. “Please, let this marriage end before I do something stupid.”
Nature
Her favorite flowers are nasturtiums from one particular florist in Madurai. Ghanshyam Ganesan claims to be a descendent of the royal gardeners who once grew acres upon acres of medicinal flowers for the medieval kingdoms of Mahishmati, Golconda, and Adilabad.
Prophecy
There will be a reckoning. Amresh will need her. But there won’t be a confrontation. Only accusations. Only apologies. Only amends.
Maybe even healing. And maybe forgiveness too.
Religion
She does not keep an idol of Mahadev in the house. She has never performed Abhishekam on a Sivalingam either. You cannot seek the blessings of a God whose living image you trampled all over.
Role Model
As a little girl, it had been Madam Marie Curie. Now, it was Bibi Maimoona Hassan Niazi, one of the biggest philanthropists of Hyderabad and her acquaintance from her student days at Cambridge. Maimoona was everything she was not. But in a cruel twist of fate, she had been blessed with a husband and a son she had never wanted. Maimoona had had two failed marriages, both of which ended because of her inability to produce an heir. Now, Maimoona spent her time and her money helping children and young adults from underprivileged and at-risk backgrounds. Like a true people’s princess, she was serving the needy with all her heart and bringing laurels to her Nizami heritage.
Scar(s)
She has bottles of foundation and concealer that will never be opened again. It has been years since she did the painstaking task of hiding her son’s gruesome scars birthmarks. Back then, he only wanted to go for swimming lessons with his friends. She should have known the makeup would wash off. He had learned the ugly truth of living with scars the hard way.
Seven Deadly Sins/Seven Cardinal Virtues
The virtues of a different life call to her. She was already full of sins, where was the need to find another way? Happiness. Even she deserved it. And maybe, embracing her truth would give her that. But how should she be honest, when she didn’t know what was her lie?
Often, the things we love most, are the things we cannot have. She is accustomed to the drab colors of the camouflage garment she wears. But one day, when Devasena is reinstated as Mahishmati’s rightful queen, Avanthika will wear a bright yellow and magenta saari. She would celebrate her queen’s liberation by adding a touch of color to her own life.
Crossover
Mirrors don’t just show us our reflection. They also acquaint us with others like us who share our destiny. Avanthika didn’t know it, but she was destined to be the mother of Mahishmati’s lions just as 6,000 miles away, Daenerys Targaryen was destined to be the mother of dragons.
Fear
Would one night of passion be enough to sustain her through the rest of her brutal, unforgiving life?
Mythological Creature
Gandharvas existed only in fairytales. The tall stranger in front her was just a bumbling village idiot. But what if it was indeed her Gandharva kumara in disguise, come to whisk her away to a land of freedom and plenty?
Nature
Her rough, callused hands longed for relief of another kind, which nature could not provide. Minnows nibbling away at dead skin were a temporary and slightly disturbing remedy for a much deeper ill. Did she not deserve to find her sanctuary in the hands of another who she could call just her own?
Prophecy
Slayer of a demon-- her mother’s last words may have been her dying wish or a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled. For Avanthika, they are one and the same.
Religion
She did not believe in God as others did. There was a God out there, indeed. But he did not come to earth for his devotees. They were on their own. Why else, would Devasena be imprisoned in chains while the devil laughed in triumph each night?
Role Model
There was no one to look up to. Role models were for children who grew up in peacetime, undisturbed by the tumult of harsh, nomadic life. When food and safety came close at the heels of mortal danger, the only creatures to look up to, were the monkeys-- for they were swift and better at climbing trees.
Scar(s)
She had a few from the various skirmishes she had been in, but none were particularly significant or unsightly. It was a relief because try as she might, her vanity got the better of her when she stood before her beloved while his eyes drank in all of her.
Seven Deadly Sins/Seven Cardinal Virtues
If sin was measured in murder, she was a sinner ready for the gates of hell. But she would kill a thousand more until her dagger was at the throat of Bhallaladeva. Her final act would be a virtue that would free her queen and wash away her sins with the shredded remains of the devil’s body.
My first name resembles my big sister’s, my second name is my godmother’s and my third name is my mother’s and her mother’s second name. Am I going to share them here? Nope ;)
2. when was the last time you cried?
I marathoned “Anne With An E” recently and bawled my eyes out every 30 minutes. I also cried for some personal reasons the other night.
3. do you have any kids?
No, and I don’t want to have any.
4. do you use sarcasm a lot?
Not really. I find it quite rude and unkind and easily misunderstandable sometimes, and so I tend to avoid it nowadays even more. Especially if I’m not very familiar with the person’s / people’s taste or their understanding of that kind of humour.
5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?
Hmm. Probably the way they move and carry themselves? Like, what’s their demeanor or way of existing in the space they are. Are they approachable, relaxed, confident, threatening or meak etc.
6. what’s your eye colour?
blueish-greyish-greenish with a darker outer ring and light amber inner ring. I like them, although describing them sounds a bit pretentions, lol. But on the other hand, I know so many people with definitive one-coloured eyes that it would feel weird and untrue calling my eyes just blue or grey and so on when compared to theirs.
7. scary movie or happy endings?
Not a fan of scary movies, tbh. They make me jumpy afterwards xD Some elements are fine, but pure scary/horror films are not my thing. Happy endings that rise from the plot and feel natural and not forced are nice but not necessary. I just like to have some hope at the end of the movie... or more like, I’m tired or watching films that milk the emotions through desperation and hopelessness or shocking splatter/violence.
8. any special talents?
uh... I’m quite good at making weird noises and imitating sounds/voices?
9. where were you born?
Northern Finland (but not Lapland)
10. what are your hobbies?
Making all sorts of crafts and art things, like cards, paintings, knitting, sewing, little wooden crafts, ceramics, etc. My favourite thing is also coming up with organizers that I then forgot to use xD I just need to do something with my hands to unwind the stress and create something.
11. do you have any pets?
No :| (a cat or two would be nice in the future... or a flock of jackdaws or crows to look at and interract with as sort of neighbours)
12. what sports do you play/have played?
A long time ago I played some floorball, later did some karate and kickboxing, but nowadays I’m just walking, skiing and so on... I have never been a sport’s person, tbh.
13. how tall are you?
163 cm, a little shorter than the average Finnish gal :)
14. dream job?
If I were honest, some kind of illustrator/artist.
15. favourite subject in school?
Geography, (and other related sciences). Learning about phenomena in nature, and how to read the environment and landscapes, maps and human behaviour and interractions with their habitat, how things are connected in all kinds of levels and ways etc... that was fascinating.
general opinion: like them! (So I’m not super gaga about her because she’s a basically a young, battle-hardened soldier with a shithead for a general! Sorry, Jayasena, but you suck. I don’t know enough about Avanthika to really care about her)
hotness level: neutral (Yeah she’s pretty. Yeah she’s hot. But she’s so not my type, especially as she totally takes to Shivu’s idea of beauty)
ship them with: Vaishali, that friend of hers before she met Shivu. Avanthika strikes me as a bisexual. Her fooling around with Shivu was probably just a consequence of her curiosity mixed with misplaced emotional overload.
brotp them with: Shivu. That makes more sense to me. She’s a hot-head. He’s laidback AF. They would be a great team. Platonically only!
needs to stay away from: Jayasena. Dude sends them kids one by one to their deaths. Has he even bothered to find out if Devasena wants to be rescued by them? Newsflash, mister- SHE DOESN’T
misc. thoughts: You should get some tattoos, girl!
