athenalvss

[athenalvss]

We need a part 2 to bat wife alternate reality please im begging

IN ALL THE TIMELINES, OR NOT ( bruce wayne! )

summary: After passing through the portal to return home, everything apparently worked out fine, apparently...

pairing: Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

request - bat wife masterlist - part 1

The air smelled different.

It wasn't the same as Central City, nor the Gotham where they had previously stood, and, for the first time, the Justice League allowed itself a second to breathe.

"Did it work?" Barry asked, looking at his own body as if he expected to disappear again.

The time machine's whirring slowly faded into an awkward silence. Bruce said nothing, he just looked around, as always.

"The chronological energy has stabilized," Cyborg confirmed, analyzing the data projected onto his mechanical arm. "The readings match our original timeline. Year 2025. Main reality."

Bruce returned to the mansion hoping to find even a small sign of you. He missed you. He needed to see you and make sure you were there with him, that you had that ring on your finger, that your clothes were in the dressing room. He needed to smell you, any memory that would confirm that you were still there, that not all was lost.

But the house was silent, too silent, no one was there, there was no familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee, nor the subtle sound of footsteps in the hallways.

At the entrance to the Mansion, none of the pictures he remembered having of the two of you together could be seen, not even of Dick, there was nothing. Bruce checked every room, every corner, but it was useless. No one was there. His nightmare followed him and it didn't seem to be over soon.

So, he decided to call the League. He couldn't be the only one suffering from this. He couldn't be immersed in misfortune across all timelines, and he kept wondering why they were taking away the only fixed variable in his life.

Bruce was quick to summon the League to the Watchtower. The teleportation brought him to the main hall, where the voices of his companions broke a silence that remained unbearable for him.

Diana was the first to approach. “What’s wrong?” she asked, seeing his expression.

Bruce didn't respond immediately. He felt the words catch in his throat. "She's gone," he finally said, his voice grave. "There's no sign of her in the mansion. No photos, no clothes, nothing. It's like she never existed."

Barry exchanged an awkward glance with Victor, but said nothing.

"Did you check?" Hal Jordan asked, trying to come up with a logical solution. "Maybe... he moved."

Bruce looked at him, and Hal lowered his voice. "She didn't move. She was never there" he said, his tone chilling the room. "In this reality, there's any sign of us ever being married. Not even that we ever met each other. There's a chance she doesn't exist here."

Diana frowned. “But our lives are just as they were before…” she murmured. “Everything seems fine.”

"Except mine," Bruce replied, with a flash of suppressed anger.

He was tired, frustrated, and overwhelmed; he just wanted to return to his dirty city, full of gang members and criminals who lurked at night, and to come home to you waiting for him there. He needed to feel you near, to feel your support, your love. He wanted his beloved wife in his life.

The weight on his chest became unbearable. The cold lights of the Tower seemed to crush him, reminding him that he was in a place that was supposed to be his home but no longer was.

Bruce ran a hand over his face, trying to contain the fury that was rising in him like wildfire. His anger wasn't at his teammates, or even at time itself; it was at the idea that she was no longer with him. That in this timeline, he was nothing to her.

“Bruce…” Oliver Queen’s voice broke the silence, laden with something that sounded like guilt.

Bruce looked up, his dark eyes boring into Oliver's. "What?" he asked with a coldness that made the air tremble.

Oliver swallowed, took a step forward. “She… is alive, she exists in this line.”

The room fell silent. Even Barry stopped the light tapping of his fingers.

Oliver frowned at the tension in the room. “Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I got a text before I was called into this meeting,” he said, pulling out his phone. “It said she was expecting me at home.”

Bruce watched him as if trying to read between the lines, but the archer seemed genuinely confused. “I want to see her.”

"Maybe..." Hal raised an eyebrow. "We should all go. If it's something that involves this timeline, it's best to see it with our own eyes so we can figure it out."

And without any discussion, all dressed in civilian clothes followed Oliver to his mansion. The trip was silent. Bruce kept his eyes fixed on the floor of the transport, as if trying to imagine what he would find could prepare him for it. His mind ran through a thousand ideas, searching for reasons why you would be in his house, reasons why the two of you had never met, perhaps what was happening was all a confusion.

The iron gate opened with a slow creak, revealing the perfectly manicured stone path that led to the entrance of Queen Mansion. The afternoon sun bathed the place in a warm light, but for Bruce, everything was tinged with an unbearable gray.

The car stopped in front of the front door. No one spoke. The only sound was Oliver's keys fumbling in his pocket. Bruce stared at the dark wood of the entryway, his jaw tense.

"It's a mix-up." "It has to be. Maybe she's just here visiting. Maybe none of this means what it seems," he repeated over and over in his mind, as if that would help the real situation he was living, as if his wish were so strong it would come true.

Oliver walked ahead, his stride confident but his brow furrowed, as if he didn't understand why everyone was following him with such anticipation. Bruce followed behind, his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the ground, his shoulders tense, and his expression of restraint that threatened to crack at any moment.

As the door opened, a familiar scent hit him like a memory that refused to be left behind. It was a mix of vanilla and lavender, your scent. The hallway was dim, lit only by the light filtering in from the living room.

And then, you appeared

Barefoot, wearing soft, light-colored pajamas that fell lightly over your figure, your hair tousled as if you'd just woken up from a nap. You walked with light steps, and your eyes, still somewhat sleepy, lit up as soon as they fell on Oliver.

"Ollie!" your voice broke the silence like a gust of warm air blowing in during the winter.

You ran toward him without hesitation, and before he could react, you were in his arms. The impact forced him to take a step back, surprised. Your hands clutched his neck, your lips covered his face with a mixture of playful and anxious kisses, as if it were a reunion he'd been waiting for days.

Bruce felt the air thicken, as if the atmosphere itself was trying to crush him. You smelled the same, you moved the same, you moved your hands on Oliver's shoulders the same way you had done with him so many times. And that sparkle in your eyes, the one that only he could receive from you, and now he saw how you gave Oliver that look, and although he knew that at some point something had happened between the two of you, he had never had to share a situation like this, and seeing it devastated him, because Bruce knew all too well what that way of acting from you meant, love.

"I didn't know you'd be home so early," you said, still clinging to Oliver, completely ignoring the others present. "The kids are going to be so happy..."

And as if your words were a summons, two pairs of small feet hit the stairs. A girl of about seven appeared first, with a smile so wide it showed a missing tooth. Behind her, a younger boy, no more than four, clutched the railing as he hurried down.

"Dad!" they both shouted in unison, throwing themselves at Oliver's legs.

The archer stared at them, transfixed. His hands, still on your shoulders, seemed to hesitate, as if he didn't know whether to move away or reciprocate the gesture.

"Dad, did you bring anything?" the girl asked, while the little boy hugged him tightly, burying his face in his jacket.

Bruce took a step back, feeling every movement around him slow down. The world was still there, but for him, it was all drowned out by a constant ringing in his ears.

That wasn't just the woman he had loved in another life, you were his wife, his entire life, his constant through time, and now you looked at him like a stranger, while you loved another man.

Oliver, still puzzled, looked at the League. “I…” he stammered, “don’t understand what’s going on.”

But Bruce did understand. He understood with painful clarity: you didn't want this timeline with you, you wanted a happy life with the man you once loved, who clearly wasn't him, and the cruelest thing was, judging by the expression on your face, it was obvious you were happy here.

Oliver remained motionless, his hands still on your shoulders, as if his brain couldn't quite understand what was happening.

It was you who filled the silence, turning just a moment to look at the group standing in the doorway. "Oh, excuse me," you said with a friendly smile. "I didn't see you, and apparently my silly husband isn't going to introduce me. It's nice to meet you all."

You took a few steps forward, with that light gait that seemed to fill the house with life, and extended your hand first to Barry, then to Hal, and finally to Diana. They all responded with a somewhat awkward politeness, as if they were unexpected guests into a life that wasn't theirs.

Bruce didn't move. Your eyes met his for a fleeting second, and while to you it was just a friendly greeting to a stranger, to him it was like a direct blow to the chest.

"Please come in," you continued. "Don't just stand there."

The children, oblivious to the tension, ran around, showing Oliver some drawings they'd made. The little girl tugged at his jacket, while the little boy tugged at his hand. You laughed softly at the scene and bent down to pick up one of the toys that had rolled down the hall.

"Do you want coffee? Tea?" you asked casually, walking into what appeared to be a large, bright kitchen. "I have some cookies we made this morning; I'm sure they're still good."

As you walked away, Oliver blinked a few times, as if only now realizing how surreal it all was. The League exchanged glances, but no one said a word.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baking cookies wafted through the air, imbuing the scene with an almost unreal sense of normalcy. The children's light laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension in Bruce's chest.

Diana was the first to break the silence, trying to regain her composure. "It's a beautiful house..."

Barry nodded, looking cautiously at Oliver, who still seemed to be waking up from his trance. "It's clear there's a lot of love here."

The excited children began showing their drawings to the visitors, occasionally interrupting the charged atmosphere and reminding everyone that, despite the strange circumstances, this was still a family.

As the children's laughter filled the house, Bruce stood a step back, watching with a mixture of disbelief and nostalgia. His gaze fell on the youngest boy, who was somewhat more withdrawn than his sister, clutching the edge of the table with a serious and curious expression.

The boy noticed the attention and, for a moment, looked up at Bruce, his large, bright eyes meeting the Dark Knight's.

Without thinking, the boy approached slowly, careful not to scare him. "Hello," he said in a low, but still cheerful voice. "What's your name?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, surprised that it was the boy who had broken the barrier between them. He lowered his gaze slightly, leaning down slightly to get closer to Bruce's level. "Bruce," he replied, his voice deep but not as harsh as usual. "And you?"

"Thomas," the boy replied proudly, as if his name were important.

Bruce felt a slight start at the sound of that name. He didn't show it on his face, but a flicker of pain, surprise, nostalgia crossed his eyes.

"Thomas..." he repeated in a barely audible murmur, as if the air had gotten caught in his chest.

The boy nodded with an innocent smile. “My mom picked it out. Did your mom pick yours out too?” he asked with genuine curiosity, rocking on his tiptoes.

Bruce took a second to respond. He wasn't used to someone mentioning his mother, much less in such a simple and warm context. "Yes," he finally said, his voice softer. "She chose it."

Thomas seemed satisfied with the answer and looked back at his drawing, not noticing that for Bruce, that brief conversation had stirred memories he rarely let surface.

Diana lowered her gaze with a gentle gesture, and Clark tilted his head and ran a hand over his shoulders, as if he understood more than Bruce was willing to admit. Even Oliver, still trying to process the family situation in front of him, noticed that something had escaped the Bat.

Thomas, oblivious to the weight of the moment, returned to his drawing, moving the pencil with small, clumsy strokes. But the adults couldn't ignore what had just happened. That name had fallen like a stone in a pond, stirring something Bruce rarely let slip.

"Bruce…" Diana whispered softly, as if she were afraid of breaking something fragile.

He gave a small nod, a minimal inclination of his head, and stood up without a word. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he crossed the room. The back door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving an awkward silence behind him.

The garden greeted him with fresh air that smelled of damp earth. The grass, still soaked with dew, gleamed in the dim moonlight. Bruce leaned on the porch railing, digging his hands into his pockets, staring into the darkness as if he could get lost in it. The distant murmur of the city was a reminder that the world kept turning, even when he needed it to stop for a moment.

It wasn't long before you heard the creaking of wood under your feet as you followed him out. You hesitated for a second at the threshold, trying to gauge whether it was a good idea to approach. Finally, you took a couple of steps, stopping a meter away.

"Are you okay?" you asked cautiously, tilting your head slightly.

Bruce didn't turn around, but his rigid posture spoke louder than his words. "It's nothing," he said, and although he tried to sound firm, "I was just having a bad week..."

"If it was nothing... you wouldn't have turned out like that," you replied in a softer tone, taking another step closer.

He remained silent for a few seconds, as if weighing every syllable he was about to say. Finally, he exhaled slowly. "My father..." The pause was brief, but it felt heavy. "His name was Thomas."

It hit you all at once. The image of the boy introducing himself with an innocent smile overtook that of a man Bruce probably hadn't mentioned in years. You remained silent, letting him have that space.

Bruce didn't look at you, but his voice lowered a little. "I don't hear that name often… especially not in that way."

"Oh, I'm sorry... "you said more to yourself than to him.

He nodded slightly. There was no sadness on his face, but something more complex: a knot of memories, affection, and loss, all contained behind that shell that seemed impossible to pierce.

You leaned against the railing beside him, not trying to look directly at him. Sometimes, being there was more important than asking questions.

The silence that settled between you wasn't awkward but rather dense, filled with things that didn't need to be said out loud. The night wind stirred the leaves in the garden, and the light from the house barely filtered through, painting their profiles in soft shadows.

Without thinking twice, you reached out and placed a hand over his, which was resting stiffly on the railing. You felt the slight twitch of his muscles, as if the touch had brought him from a distant place.

For a moment, Bruce let his guard down. His shoulders eased off their tension, and his gaze drifted off into the dark lawn. The world around him seemed to have shut down; there was no city, no responsibilities, no wounds to heal… just the two of you, sharing a piece of truth you rarely allowed yourself to reveal.

His fingers moved barely, brushing against yours, and you were just about to say something when he started to feel dizzy.

It was as if the air had collapsed. The breeze, the lights, the sound… everything dissolved into a sudden darkness. A sharp throb, then another, and the feeling of weight was gone, replaced by a sharp pain that shot through his head.

Bruce's eyes flew open, blinking against a cold, white light that momentarily blinded him. The gurney he lay on seemed too hard, but it was the only place he could feel. The air was thick with a metallic smell, mixed with that unmistakable hint of disinfectant he knew only well.

He tried to move his hand and found one that gently held his fingers. With an effort, he turned his head and found you sitting beside him, your eyes tired and marked by sleepless nights, but shining with a mixture of relief, fear, and hope.

"Bruce… "your voice was barely a whisper, but for him it was the most comforting melody in the world. "For God's sake, you're alive"

The phrase resonated deeply. The still faded memories intertwined with the reality his senses were revealing. He remembered the garden, your hand, that almost impossible peace, and now the contrast, the harshness of the makeshift hospital underground.

He tried to speak, but his throat was dry, as if he hadn't used his voice in days. Finally, his hand gently squeezed yours. "I thought I'd lost you..." he said, his voice hoarse, almost broken.

You smiled tenderly, squeezing his hand a little tighter, as if doing so could convey all the strength you felt inside. "What are you saying, silly?" you murmured, with that mix of relief and determination in his voice. "You were in a coma for a week, Bruce. It was horrible not knowing if you'd wake up."

He blinked, trying to focus his eyes and comprehend every word, feeling the weight of those days of silence and worry accumulating in the air.

Bruce took a deep breath, as if trying to get the words to sink deep into his mind, not slip away like a blurry dream. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of disbelief and need.

"A week?" he said almost to himself, his voice barely audible. "Everything felt so... far away, as if it were real."

You moved a little closer, unhurriedly, without forcing anything, and gently placed the palm of your hand against his. "It's not a dream, Bruce. I was here."

He narrowed his eyes and let out a breath filled with relief, a small, almost invisible smile appearing on his lips.

"Thank you," he whispered, unable to hold his gaze for long. "For staying with me."

Your fingers tightened around his, letting him know there was no room for doubt.

"Always, Bruce. I'll always be there."

[athenalvss]

COME ON! ( Clark Kent! )

summary: Clark's girlfriend is not ashamed of anything, and even has fun making her cute boyfriend suffer a little.

pairing: Clark kent x fem!reader

note: Today the blog reached 2k followers, I'm so happy 🥺🥺

request - Clark masterlist

"you feel good?" Clark asked, breathing heavily, still recovering. His arms were around you, warm and protective.

"More than good" you replied with a satisfied smile.

The morning with Clark had started off a bit heated; you hadn't gotten out of bed despite their alarms going off three times. Neither of you made the slightest effort to move. you were too busy, too comfortable, too caught up in each other to care about the outside world.

The night before had been intense, one of those nights that left scarred skin, dry throats, and aching muscles in the best possible way. We stayed awake between caresses and confessions until the sky began to lighten outside the window.

Now, under the rumpled sheets, you rested with your head on his chest, your hair disheveled, and a contented smile on your face. You were wearing only your underwear, which had flown to the sides of the bed the night before, and Clark wasn't wearing much else either, just his dark boxers, the material pulled down on his hips by his restless hands.

you both were warm to the touch, pressed skin against skin, as if they hadn't yet completely separated.

"You're falling asleep," you murmured, drawing a slow line with your fingertips on his bare chest.

Clark smiled, half asleep. "I'm just resting my eyes, that doesn't count as sleep."

“Mmm, sure,” you murmured against his ear, letting your breath hit his face. “I have an idea that might help keep you awake.”

He opened one eye and looked at you with that lazy smile he only showed when he felt completely safe. "Aren't you tired?"

"Me? I never said that." You leaned in to kiss him, slowly, with that sweetness that only appeared after a night like the one you'd had. And when he pulled away, you could look into his eyes. "And if you don't want to, I can still stay like this..." you added, curling up against him again, your chest against his. "I like it when you hold me like you never want to let go."

Clark sighed happily, caressing your back with an almost reverent tenderness, his fingers sliding along the edge of the fabric that barely covered your skin. "Because I don't want to."

Just as Clark was about to kiss you again, the bedroom door swung open.

"Clark, we need you to—" Barry froze in the doorway.

Clark quickly grabbed the sheet to cover you desperately, his hands nervous at having been found in this situation.

"Barry! What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, his tone a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance, as he wrapped the sheet around you rather carelessly.

You barely flinched. You didn't even try to help him cover up. You were too comfortable, half leaning against him, one eyebrow raised, that mischievous expression you used when you knew someone else was getting uncomfortable, but not you.

"So much fuss about seeing a bit of skin?" you murmured, as you let yourself be covered without any haste, almost with amusement.

The door had barely closed behind Barry when they heard voices outside.

"Are you sure he's here?" a confident, powerful female voice asked.

"Where else would he be if he didn't answer the communicator?" another responded, with that unmistakable sarcastic tone.

"God... no," Clark muttered, straightening up with the sheet still rolled up as best he could. "No, no, no..."

Before I could even notice, the door opened again.

"Clark, are you—" Diana entered first, majestic in her armor and with a serious expression. But she stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she saw you sitting on top of Clark in bed, disheveled, half wrapped in a sheet, and with a relaxed smile.

Hal walked in behind her, and upon seeing you, he let out a laugh that he didn't try to hide. "Well, well, now I understand why you weren't answering your messages. Someone had a good morning," he said, scanning the room and looking at both of them.

And finally, Bruce. Who wasn't even surprised. He just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Clark's face was so red it was almost pitiful. He clenched his jaw, clearly wishing the ground would swallow him up, trying to keep the sheet covering you.

"Okay, I think we should go, guys," Diana finally said, gesturing elegantly toward the door, though the smile was still on her lips.

"Yes! Get out of here," Clark exclaimed, his nerves already on edge. "Would you at least come outside so I can get dressed?"

"Why?" you asked, shrugging calmly. "They've already come, they've already seen. There's no point in pretending this isn't happening."

Diana laughed, genuine, delighted with the situation.

"Yeah, that's true. We've seen everything," Hal added, standing with his arms crossed by the door. "And honestly, I don't think there's anything more interesting to see. Well, unless..."

"Jordan," Batman's voice interrupted, dry, direct, cutting the air like a razor.

Hal raised his hands in a false gesture of innocence. “Nothing! I didn’t say anything. It’s just… Clark has good taste, that’s all.”

Clark grunted something unintelligible as he ran a hand over his face, his shoulders tense and his cheeks flushed. "Please leave."

"Five minutes" Bruce repeated, turning to leave without waiting for an answer.

Just as Diana was heading for the door, you stood up calmly, stretching your arms lazily as if you were in the privacy of your own home and not in front of half the Justice League.

The sheet fell without disturbing you, revealing your black underwear, which left little to the imagination. You ran your hands through your hair, still disheveled, walking toward the dressing room with complete ease, as if you had no audience.

Hal stared at you, openly. Barry, who had peeked out again, blinked several times as if he didn't know where to look.

"God..." Flash muttered softly, stunned.

Hal didn't reply. He just whistled very softly, with a smile that betrayed his thoughts. Clark noticed, turned his head, and saw them both, watching you as you crossed the room half-naked, carefree, as if the bedroom were a catwalk.

"Really?!" he exclaimed, his jaw clenched. "Are you just going to stand there and stare at her like she's a spectacle?"

Hal blinked, feigning offense. “I’m appreciating, it’s not the same.”

"Get out," Clark said, now in a low, firm tone, the classic voice of an annoyed Superman.

Barry stuttered something and disappeared in a flash, literally. Hal shrugged and followed him, still with a smile on his face.

"Ugh," Clark groaned, falling back onto the bed again.

From the dressing room, your voice came in a sing song voice: “What’s up, Smallville?”

"You did it on purpose," he blurted out in frustration.

You peeked your head out of the dressing room, smiling a carefree and unashamedly self-satisfied smile. "Do what on purpose?" you asked, as if I had no idea, as I ambled out, still in my underwear.

Clark brought both hands to his face with an exasperated sigh. "You do that to annoy me and unnerve me. It's not funny at all."

"bother you? Me?" you asked, feigning innocence as you grabbed one of his shirts from the back of the chair and slipped it on leisurely, revealing your legs. Then you walked calmly toward him, crossing the room as if there hadn't just been an impromptu hearing.

Clark took his hands away from his face and looked at you with that mixture of surrender and resignation that only you could inspire in him. "God... you're impossible today."

Clark watched you with a mixture of resignation and utter amazement. He knew you were playing along, as always, and that you were enjoying every second of having him completely off his axis.

"Don't look at me like that" he muttered, his cheeks still flushed, as you gently climbed onto the bed, straddling his legs.

"So how?" you asked, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. You were so calm, so in control, as he stood there, his hands hovering at the sides of your thighs as if touching you could bring about the end of the world.

"Don't do this to me..." he warned, although he didn't sound very convinced he wanted to turn it off.

"And since when do you dislike it?" you whispered, just as...

"¡Clark!"

Diana's voice sounded clear from across the hall. Clark tensed beneath you as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him.

"Oh come on"

[athenalvss]

I just read your Hal Jordan x Mom! fem reader and I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of maybe Olivia dating Damian when they’re older and Hal getting annoyed about the fact that Batman’s son is dating his daughter.

COME ON OLI! ( Hal jordan! )

summary: It's common knowledge that the Green Lanterns never got along with Batman, and Hal can't believe his teenage daughter is dating the Batman's youngest son.

pairing: Dad! Hal jordan x mom! reader

request - Hal masterlist - part 1

"Tell me I heard that wrong," Hal said, standing in the living room with a frown, the ring glowing as if ready to strike at an invisible enemy. "Please, Olivia, tell me you didn't say Damian Wayne."

It had been a bit hard for Hal to watch his daughter grow up and become a teenager, and even more so when she had the same personality and character, she was a constant headache for him. Sarcastic, impulsive, with zero tolerance for authority... except, of course, when it suited her. It was like looking into a mirror with black eyeliner and giant headphones. A mirror that challenged him daily and, to top it all off, he couldn't say no to without his emotional wires going all out.

Olivia looked at him from the couch, completely relaxed, stretching her legs as if she hadn't just dropped an atomic bomb in the middle of the living room. "I've already said it twice. If I say it a third time, will your ring explode or will you just have a heart attack?"

Hal opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. He paced back and forth, his ring flashing as if he were stressed out too. “For God’s sake, there are so many boys in the world, Olivia! Thousands! Literally millions of teenagers, and you go and do this?”

"It's great that you take my personal decisions so well," she replied, taking a hair tie out of her pocket and calmly tying her hair.

From the kitchen doorway, you couldn't contain your laughter. It was a soft, brief sound, but it was enough. Hal turned to you with an accusatory look, his eyes narrowed. "No... Don't tell me you already knew."

You raised your hands as if you were innocent, although your smile gave you away. "Hal... she's my daughter. She obviously knew."

"And it didn't occur to you, I don't know, to let me know? A text would be nice, we sleep in the same bed! Whatever!"

"It was something she had to tell you, not me," you replied calmly, as if you were talking about what movie to watch, not her symbolic archenemy becoming her son-in-law. "Besides... she's sixteen. She's more than fine."

"Well? Well? She's dating the son of the guy who literally has secret files on neutralizing us all!"

"Oh, Hal, I love you, but you're so dramatic," you said, kissing him on the head.

Olivia stood up, walked over to you, and leaned on your shoulder with a triumphant expression, as if you'd just won a symbolic battle. "Team Mom forever."

"It's not drama, it's survival!"

"It's karma," Olivia whispered, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Your daughter is just like you, and the universe is giving it back to you."

"I do a lot for the universe. They should make things easier for me at home." Hal stared at her. "I'm going to request a sector transfer. I'm going far away."

"Perfect, now I have the house to myself," Olivia said.

"NO! I CAN SEE YOU PUTTING DAMIAN ON MY SOFA!"

"Too late," she murmured, with a cryptic smile.

"WHAT?"

"She's joking, Hal," you said as you looked at your daughter, who had a smile on her face. "I think so."

Hal stood completely still. He blinked. Once. Twice. The ring on his finger flashed with such a sharp gleam that for a second you wondered if he was about to build a green cage to lock his daughter in, or Damian.

"I'm not joking," Olivia said, very serious for half a second. "Well, yes," she added quickly, seeing her father's expression. "Or not?"

Hal raised a hand in the air as if he were about to make a plea to the Guardians of the Universe, then dropped it with a dramatic sigh. “I’m going to die before I’m fifty. I see it coming. But not because of some ugly intergalactic bug, because of you two. You’re going to write it on my tombstone: He died of stress because the women in his life turned against him.”

"Are you telling me to find another husband?" you asked with a raised eyebrow, crossing your arms.

Hal stared at you silently for a second, as if his brain was rebooting. “What?! No! That’s not what I said!” he finally replied, sitting up with his eyes wide open. “Jesus, woman! How did we get from my tombstone to that?”

Olivia was already crying with laughter, bent over the back of the chair. "You're so lost, Dad."

"I'm not lost, I'm the victim of emotional terrorism from both of you!" Hal exclaimed, pointing at them both as if he were making a formal complaint to the Guardians. "First you withhold information from me, then you mock me, and now you're threatening me with spinsterhood. What's next?"

"But you were the one who said he was going to die young" you intervened.

Hal groaned and covered his face with both hands. “I need a vacation. To Oa. Alone. Without you.”

"But if you go to Oa, there'll be trouble waiting for you there too," Olivia said, still smiling. "At least here you only have to put up with us."

"Exactly," you added with a sweet but ironic smile as you sat on his lap and kissed him on the cheek. "A small price to pay for so much love."

[athenalvss]

I'm a little inspired because out of nowhere an idea came to write about Clark but if anyone has any ideas you know where to leave them.

[athenalvss]

BABY ON BOARD ( bruce wayne! )

summary: The entire League is invited to a dinner at Wayne Manor, but no one knows what it's about, so they start plotting until Bruce and you finally announce it.

pairing: Bruce Wayne x Wife! fem reader

request - hot wife serie

"I need everyone at my house tonight for an important announcement," Bruce announced to the entire League gathered in the watchtower lounge before standing up and leaving, leaving everyone confused and somewhat curious about the obligatory invitation.

And there they all were, punctually walking towards the entrance.

"Why did Bruce call an emergency meeting?" Barry asked for the third time, arms crossed as he paced around the table. "Actually, why would he invite us?"

"I don't know, but if he did it, it's serious," Diana murmured, glancing at Clark. "Do you know anything?"

Clark slowly shook his head, his arms crossed as he looked at the mansion from the outside, as if trying to scan it with his eyes. "I have no idea, everything seemed normal, well, normal Bruce."

"Why did Bruce summon the entire League?" Barry insisted. "He said 'everyone'! Like we were about to face a demonic apocalypse, or if he'd been replaced by a clone!?"

Diana simply rolled her eyes, moving toward the front door. Before she could knock, it opened softly from the inside.

"Hey guys! Come in" a teenage Dick appeared behind the door, greeting them with a crooked smile, dressed casually but with the relaxed air of someone who knew the secret.

"Hey buddy, do you know what's going on here?" Hal asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Maybe so," Dick replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "But I'd rather you see for yourselves."

The entrance to Wayne Manor was brighter than usual. The usually quiet and sober lobby had a faint scent of fresh flowers and instrumental music playing in the distance. And strangest of all: there was no tension in the air. Not the typical Wayne tension, at least.

"I don't like this," Barry muttered, looking around as if he expected a bat to land on him. "It's peaceful. It's never peaceful in this house."

"Yeah... that's very strange," Hal suggested, looking suspiciously toward the stairs. "What if Bruce wants to announce his retirement? I wouldn't mind... but it would be very strange."

"It wouldn't be the first time he's threatened that," Diana replied, finally entering the great hall.

"But it would be the first time he's done it with flowers and soft music," Barry added, pointing at a vase as if it were a disguised bomb.

The room was immaculate. The fireplace was lit, the warm lights on, drinks already poured on the table, and Alfred walked among them with his usual elegance.

And then, everyone fell silent when they saw you.

Descending the stairs, you looked like a vision from another world. Your high necked black dress, elegant yet casual, perfectly matched the grand mansion, your flawless makeup, and your smile that showed off all your teeth in the most joyful way they'd ever seen. The entire room froze for a moment. It wasn't just that you looked stunning, but there was something different about your bearing, a special warmth, a different energy than you always had.

"My lord..." Barry whispered. "She's more perfect than usual. Forget about the Bruce thing, it doesn't matter anymore."

Bruce appeared behind you, his usual serious demeanor, his expression neutral, and wearing a black turtleneck that matched your dress perfectly. His hand rested casually on your lower back as you descended together.

"My mom is always beautiful, Barry," Dick said from the back, in that high, slightly defiant tone they all instantly recognized.

Loud enough for Bruce to hear and earn Barry one of his sharpest glares, and as if it were possible to avoid it, Barry turned around as if he'd been caught stealing a batarang. "Wonder Boy! I didn't see you there, kiddo" he said nervously.

"I'm not a kiddo" Dick replied with dangerous calm, as he approached. "But if you want, we can settle this in the backyard. Where the real batarangs are."

"No, no, I'm fine, thanks," Barry said quickly, half hiding behind Hal.

Bruce didn't say anything. He just gave Barry one of those silent warning looks that made him freeze completely as if he'd just triggered a laser trap.

You, meanwhile, couldn't help but let out a small laugh. You loved seeing how seriously Dick took his protective role, especially when it came to you. Bruce, noticing your smile, let his guard down slightly.

"Calm down, Dick," you said soothingly, reaching out to take his hand for a moment. "Barry's learned his lesson… hasn't he?"

“Absolutely,” Barry confirmed, raising both hands as if in surrender.

Taking advantage of the pause, you took a step away from Bruce to approach Diana, who watched the scene with a contained smile and her arms crossed.

“Di!” you exclaimed, opening your arms in genuine joy.

The Amazon smiled immediately and came forward to receive your hug, strong and warm. “You look incredible,” she said softly, pulling away just to get a better look at you. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

"You know me too well," you smiled at him, with that sparkle in your eyes.

"You better not leave tonight without telling me," Diana teased. "Or I'll be forced to lasso it out of you."

Bruce, for a second, truly smiled, as if finally, after years of burdens and silences, he could simply enjoy the family he had.

They both laughed as Bruce watched them from his place, silently, but with a slight satisfied expression at seeing you surrounded by those who loved you.

Hal leaned toward Clark. “Do you know something?”

Clark shook his head with a soft half-smile, crossing his arms as he looked from you to Hal as he answered. "It's not bad at all, I can assure you..."

Meanwhile, you released Diana with a more intimate smile and turned to greet the rest. A nod to J'onn, a kiss on the cheek to Arthur, a high five with Victor, and a pat on the shoulder for Shayera.

Everyone responded with affection, but also with a growing degree of suspicion. There was something about your energy, the way you carried yourself, the way your eyes sparkled.

It wasn't just that you looked good, you always did, but that night you radiated something different. A soft, natural light, impossible to fake.

Bruce approached you again silently, as always, without needing to say anything. And when he offered you his hand, in a subtle but deeply symbolic gesture, you took it with the ease that only comes with age and passionate love. That gesture was so simple, intimate, visible, and enough for everyone to silently understand that the moment was approaching.

Clark, his eyes on both of them, was the first to speak in a more serious tone. "Do you want me to help you say it?" he asked gently.

Bruce shook his head slightly. “No. I want to say it myself.”

And then the murmur disappeared, the room quieted. All conversations lowered their volume. Alfred crossed the room silently, closing the drawing room door with the same elegance he always did… but that gesture was enough to confirm that something important was about to happen.

"Are you going to be a member of the Justice League?" Barry asked, his eyes shining. "Because I'd go to work with a lot more enthusiasm."

"Are you going to retire and leave the world in Dick's hands?" Hal added with a mocking smile.

"I could handle it" Dick interrupted from the back, not missing a beat.

Bruce looked up and made a small gesture with his hand, silencing everyone. He took a step forward. His voice was firm and unmistakable. “Thank you for coming. I know this meeting is unusual, and that many of you are still wondering why you’re here.”

"Confirmed!" Barry jumped in. "We still don't know anything."

"Sorry, the meeting was my idea" you admitted, giving Barry an apologetic look.

"Oh, calm down honey, don't worry about it, we're all more than fine, you know?" Barry said and looked around. "Maybe we should go get something to eat first, you know"

"Barry," Diana cut him off.

He shrugged, gesturing with both hands. "What? I'm nervous! I need to eat something to calm down."

"That's why we're trying not to add more to it," Hal replied quietly, nudging him.

Bruce, without losing his patience, gently squeezed his hand in yours, trying to calm his internalized nerves and anxiety. He looked at you for a second, silently confirming that you were ready. And you nodded, with a small smile you could barely contain.

"Well, since we're all here," you chimed in with a smile, "we wanted to share some news that... has changed our lives."

Bruce looked at you. And although his eyes remained serious, you knew well that silent gleam he had just for you. Then you said it, clearly, firmly, without hiding your joy. "We're expecting a baby."

No one breathed.

"A what?" Barry said, as if time had slowed down.

“A baby,” you repeated. “Our baby.”

Arthur was the first to react. “I certainly didn’t see that coming!” he exclaimed with a genuine laugh. “Congratulations, bat! You finally dared to do something bigger than saving the world!”

"you are going to be amazing," Diana said, approaching and taking your hands with a warm smile. "It makes me so happy to see you like this."

Clark just nodded, his expression gentle, as if he already knew, as if he'd sensed it ever since he saw you walk in. He didn't say anything, but his gaze met Bruce's for a second and that was enough.

Hal whistled softly. "A little Wayne? Maybe I'd get along with that baby."

"And the name!" Barry jumped in. "Do you have names yet? Are you going to choose a heroic one? Like Barry Wayne?"

Bruce looked at him. “Definitely not.”

Laughter erupted in the room, even J'onn let out a small smile. Barry held a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "Well, that hurt."

"No more than it would hurt to be called Barry Wayne," Hal muttered, prompting another round of laughter.

Amid the bustle and impromptu toasts, Dick slowly approached you and Bruce. His eyes shifted from your face, lit with emotion, to his father's stoic but subtly proud profile. He remained silent for a few seconds, as if he needed to choose his words carefully.

"So..." he began with a crooked smile, "I'm going to have to share the spotlight with someone else."

Bruce looked at him, already waiting for the comment.

"But I suppose it's all right," Dick added, shrugging his shoulders in mock resignation. "After all, that baby's going to be very lucky."

"For having us as parents?" you asked, smiling.

Dick shook his head slowly. “No. Because im gonna be their brother.” With a quick glance at Bruce, he added, “But you guys aren’t that bad either.”

[athenalvss]

FAST HAL ( Hal Jordan! )

summary: You and Hal are just a couple of horny lanterns who can't keep their hands off each other, and how could they not be when those suits look so good on them?

pairing: Hal jordan x star sapphire!reader

cw: sex (p in v). get caught

request - Hal masterlist

The relationship you had with Hal was a bit unusual, perhaps too passionate for other people, and even more so for the Justice League. It seemed like something everyone called modesty had been taken away from them at birth, and that's why they found themselves in this situation.

The pink glow of your ring illuminated the gloom of the Watchtower's energy sector. You were against the wall, panting, your legs wrapped around Hal's waist as he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

Were you in love? Of course, but you weren't the kind of couples who showed your love with hugs or anything related to PDA, you had a more carnal way of showing your love for each other, you were damn hot for each other.

It didn't matter if you were on the Watchtower, on a mission, or in the middle of an interplanetary strategy meeting: if Hal Jordan found an excuse to corner you against a wall, use his ring to close his suit, and drag you with him, he was going to do it, and he couldn't stop you when you were the one pushing him into the first dark corner you found, no matter if it was a corridor in the medical wing or the emergency supply depot, why would he stop you if you were wearing that new Star Sapphire suit that looked so good on you?

You had a damn habit of provoking him with just a glance, of walking past him in that tight suit and that dangerous smile, knowing full well what you were causing. And Hal, for his part, was everything they said he was: reckless, arrogant, impulsive, but when it came to you, he went completely wild.

The connection between you two was like an inevitable gravitational field: you could resist for a few minutes, but in the end, you always ended up trapping each other. Sometimes with kisses that tasted like a storm, other times with nails digging into the skin and muffled gasps against each other's necks.

But how did they escape from a League meeting to have your usual fuck?

That day they were in the middle of a strategy meeting.

The screen showed live images of a swarm of hostile ships. Diana spoke in her usual firm, clear voice. Bruce analyzed flight patterns. Barry tried to follow the thread, and you weren't listening at all.

Because Hal was sitting across from you. With that "I'm concentrating" look on his face and that little twinkle in his eyes that you knew meant he wasn't thinking about the invaders, but about what he was going to do to you as soon as this meeting was over, or even before then if he had the chance.

You deliberately crossed your legs, while keeping your gaze on him using your ring to mentally communicate with him and then Hal fixed his eyes on you as if you had shot him. And you, who had not the slightest bit of shame, simply smiled at him with that expression that disarmed him inside.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked, glancing at you.

"Perfectly," you replied, without taking your eyes off Hal.

Ten minutes later, as Diana explained the plan of attack, Hal pretended to receive an urgent alert on his ring. He stood up.

"I have to check for an energy anomaly in sector three," he said seriously.

"Now?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. It could be a subspace breach. We don't want another problem."

" you need some help?" Flash asked, already standing up.

"I've got it," you said, with a smile as fake as the report Hal had just fabricated. "I'm going with him. I know that kind of energy. We'll be right back."

And you disappeared in a beam of green and pink light.

The pink glow of your ring illuminated the darkness as your back gently hit one of the metal walls. Hal was already on top of you. His lips on your neck, his hands moving down your waist, your labored breathing tangling with his.

"You know this is technically a serious offense?" you muttered between gasps.

"What's serious is what you did to me ten minutes ago. That smile of yours should be banned," Hal growled, kissing you hard. "You can't talk to me like that with that mind of yours."

Your hands were on his neck, then his chest, and then moving down. There was no longer any space between you, and his ring was working urgently, undoing the bottom of his suit while your lips traced his jaw with a perfect mix of impatience and vice.

"You wanted to concentrate?" you murmured in his ear. "It didn't seem like it when you almost knocked over the table just to look at my legs."

His lips descended down your neck, marking a wet and urgent path. Your nails scratched his back as your legs wrapped around him tighter. His breath clashed with yours, disarmed, needy.

The air in the area seemed to vibrate and you were already losing track of where you began and where he ended. Hal slid his hand between your thighs ready to slide off the bottom of that new suit he liked so much, and when his mouth slid lower, there was no turning back.

The side door opened with a high-pitched whine.

"By the gods... not again," Diana exclaimed, with the tone of someone who was no longer surprised, but who was still on the verge of divine intervention.

You didn't even bother to cover yourself, you could only let out a shaky breath at the loss of movement of Hal's fingers in your most nervous area, you were seconds away from losing control, with Hal's fingers buried deep inside you and his breathing millimeters away from making you explode.

And now all that had stopped.

Hal, for his part, didn't seem embarrassed or embarrassed. He turned to Diana as if he wasn't about to pull off his belt with his other hand, or with his fingers still inside you.

"Diana," he said matter-of-factly. "Give us five minutes and we'll be back there."

She glared at him. "Take your hand out of her, Hal."

With a resigned sigh, Hal slowly removed his hand from between your legs. The gesture was slow, almost vindictive, and drew a small whimper from you as he passed. Diana rolled her eyes and stalked off, muttering something in ancient Greek that probably meant "Why me?"

When the door closed again, Hal leaned his forehead against yours. You were both breathing as if you'd run a marathon but hadn't finished it.

"My pussy is throbbing, Hal..."you said.

"My pants hurt" Hal sighed, frustrated but not defeated. "Shall we look for another place?"

“Please,” you said, almost pleading.

Hal didn't need any more. With just a glance, they both activated their rings in perfect synchronicity. In a matter of seconds, they disappeared from the energy sector, enveloped in green and pink light, bouncing like two horny teenagers all over the Watchtower in search of the next dark corner.

After that interruption, you both ended up in the medical room, a comfortable place with floating stretchers, dim lighting, and, most importantly, a rarely visited spot. All the perfect ingredients for them to finally have a good fuck without being interrupted.

As soon as you touched the ground, you didn't speak.

Hal yanked you up and dropped you onto the nearest gurney as if you were both his punishment and his reward. His lips searched for yours, desperate, while his hands roamed your body as if he had to memorize every curve before the world got in the way again.

You lay back as he positioned himself over you. This time there was no slow play between you. His mouth met yours as if he hadn't tasted it in years, and his hands didn't linger this time. He removed the top of your suit in one clean motion, and you helped him halfway undo his own. The tables vibrated with the movement of his hips between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs tightly.

"I needed this so bad," he murmured, lowering his head to your breasts.

"Come on Hal..."

You were ready for him, and he was more than ready to finally fulfill both of your wishes, and just as Hal repeatedly guided his body to yours, when you felt him hot and hard against you, feeling him completely inside you, one of the curtains separating the tables opened.

you both froze.

Hal was still inside you, your legs still wrapped around his waist, your chest rising and falling against his, then you heard a voice. A voice that could only belong to someone cynical enough to laugh at such a scene, only a person who could have done so before.

"Uh... I see you took my advice about using the Hal" Oliver Queen, bandaged, disheveled, and with an IV bag hanging from his back, looked at them from his stretcher with a raised eyebrow.

The silence was as violent as the interruption.

"Are you hurt...?" you murmured, your voice completely broken by the mixture of frustrated pleasure and absolute horror, but worried for Oliver despite his teasing.

"They only pierced my shoulder. Nothing I haven't experienced before. But clearly, you two are about to pierce something else," he said, grinning like he was on a damn late-night show.

Hal didn't move. Not an inch. "Oliver," he said in a low voice, almost like a murderous mantra. "Close the curtain."

"Sure, sure. But if you're going to keep going, could you turn it down a bit? I like you to enjoy it, but the wail of "Come on, Hal" woke me from the anesthesia."

“Close the curtain, Queen,” you growled, burying your face in Hal’s neck.

"Closing, closing" and the curtain closed again with the same soft, hateful sound.

Silence. Hal stayed where he was, still inside you, not moving, not breathing. "Damn," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"You know I love Oli a lot" you said in a tense whisper, still resting your forehead on his shoulder, "but I don't know if I want to have sex with him by my side."

You both exhaled simultaneously, Hal barely moving. A faint cough was heard from the other side of the curtain.

"Are you done yet? I didn't think you were that fast, Hal," Oliver asked, very aware of what he was causing.

"I swear, if you say one more word, the ring will turn me into an intergalactic assassin," Hal said, his voice low. He sounded like a man on the verge of a nervous and sexual breakdown.

On the other end, Oliver let out a hoarse laugh, quite pleased with its effect. “Relax, Hal. It’s not every day I get the honor of witnessing the most frustrated fuck in the universe.”

Hal let out a deep growl, one that vibrated against your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut and hugged the back of his neck, as if that would keep you from exploding.

“We’re leaving,” you said, with a determination that sounded more dangerous than any threat Hal had made.

"Where?" he murmured, almost automatically.

"Home, to Oa, I don't know."

Hal nodded, and with a faint gleam of his ring, he dressed without even taking you off. He kept you glued to him, suspended, trapped in the same frustrated warmth they shared.

"Queen," he said before leaving, barely turning his head toward the curtain. "If you speak of this, I'll pull out all your arrows and use them to plunge every inch of your body."

"I'll sign a vow of silence right now, I swear," Oli replied with a mischievous laugh. "But thanks for the show. I really love you, you degenerates."

"Fuck you," you said without looking, while Hal opened the door.

"After you, you two need it most," Oliver said with an invisible bow.

[athenalvss]

Hii! Can I request Hal Jordan with a reader who happens to build planes? Like an aeronautical engineer that just saw Hal flew one of the planes she designed and was so giddy. He didn't know she designed it, but he did like a pretty girl gushing over him (his skills not him LMAO)

PASSIONATE GIRL (Hal Jordan!)

Summary: Hal likes the cute and passionate engineer, and wouldn't mind being more than just her special test pilot.

pairing: Hal Jordan x fem!reader

note: idk what I wrote here lol

request - Hal masterlist

The roar of the engine was still echoing in your ears when Hal Jordan landed. From the hangar’s observation deck, you’d been following the X-99A prototype’s every move, your nerves on edge. Every turn, every acrobatic maneuver, every second that plane hovered was a silent validation of all those sleepless days, calculations, pinpoint adjustments, and arguments with managers who didn’t understand anything.

It was the first time you could see one of your babies in the sky. It wasn't just another prototype, it was yours. Sleepless hours, sheets of paper scribbled with formulas you already knew by heart, crumpled plans scattered everywhere after each failed adjustment, simulations repeated ad nauseam. All those nights when you hesitated, when you thought the design would never make it past the testing stage. All of that was up there, soaring through the sky with an elegance that made you catch your breath.

And Hal Jordan flew it like he knew it, like he knew everything that was behind the plane.

Not like a pilot following a manual, but like someone who could feel the plane, who understood its soul. He handled it with surgical precision, yet with an almost instinctive confidence. As if every turn and maneuver were choreographed between the pilot and your creation. And you, down below, felt your chest tighten.

You leaned against the hangar's observation deck railing, your eyes fixed on the sky as the X-99A spun in a risky but flawless maneuver. Your hand gripped the notebook where you'd written the first idea for that design. An old, folded, coffee stained sheet of paper that you still held onto. Because it was all part of the process. Because it was yours.

As the plane landed and taxied to the maintenance runway, you ran down the steps, ignoring the rest of the test crew, ignoring the executives on the radio.

Hal Jordan stepped out of the cockpit with his typical air of confidence, greeting the mechanics with a crooked smile, while taking off his helmet and tossing his hair as if he had just won a race.

"So? What did it look like from below?" one of the technicians asked, while Hal stretched as if he hadn't just defied gravity with an experimental machine.

"It felt incredible," he replied, still smiling. "The ship responds as if it were thinking before I did. I've never flown anything like that. It's almost… organic."

You were right behind when you said it. “That’s because you’re not flying solo,” you said calmly, barely containing the tremor of emotion in your voice. “The kinetic feedback system was designed to adapt to the pilot in real time. It detects microvariations in pressure, thrust, and rudder behavior, and adjusts the flaps almost a second before you think about it. It’s a constant dialogue. You give an order, and the plane is already processing it before you finish executing it.”

Hal turned, curious, hearing a voice he didn't recognize, but which sounded firm, excited, and as confident as the plane he'd just piloted. He looked at you, at first, not associating you with anything in particular. Just a girl with a bright expression, breathing heavily, a notebook clutched to her chest.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm a little excited," you replied, lifting the notebook you were clutching to your chest. "I was part of the design team. I coordinated the cockpit architecture, the kinetic response system, and the rear thrust redistribution."

Hal was silent for a few seconds, looking at you as if he were seeing a part of the plane he'd never noticed before. As if he couldn't quite connect the image: a young engineer, her eyes shining, speaking with as much confidence as if you were part of the flight crew.

He had to admit there was something magnetic about that mix, something that drew him in, your enthusiasm, the precision with which you spoke, A pretty, intelligent girl, completely dedicated to your job which you were passionate about.

"You don't know what it was like to see you up there," you murmured, almost more to yourself than to him. "Every move you made was exactly what we designed to happen... only no one has flown it like that before."

It wasn't the kind of superficial admiration I was used to. It wasn't how you looked, although yes, you looked good. It was the confidence, the passion in your voice, the way you spoke of the plane as if it were a living thing.

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," Hal said, lowering his voice a little. It wasn't an empty compliment, it was something he felt was real.

It surprised you for a moment. Not because you didn't expect it at some point, you knew your worth, what you'd accomplished, and everything you still had to do, but because you didn't think he'd be the one to say it. Hal Jordan, the star pilot, the one everyone in the design room mentioned whenever they needed a seemingly impossible technical challenge, was the best pilot you could have for testing; he had the ability to make everything seem easier.

"It's not that hard," you joked. "Pilots are easily impressed if you give them something that flies fast."

"That's true," he said, laughing. "But this wasn't just speed. It's really cool."

"It was synchronicity," you nodded. "That's why I said you weren't flying solo. There's a lot of work there."

Hal held your gaze. This time without joking, without posing. Just you and him, in that perfect, technical moment, united by something only those who understand flight and design know: a profound respect for a well-made… and well-understood machine.

"Do you want to come with me to the simulator tomorrow?" he asked suddenly. "I want you to show me what you were thinking when you designed it. I'd like to get the best version."

You remained silent for a second, analyzing his gaze, trying to find any sign of joking or indecency, but all you found was real interest, genuine curiosity.

"Tomorrow at seven," you said finally. "Don't be late, I won't wait for you."

Hal raised his hands in a gesture of solemn promise. "I'll be there before you. I swear."

"I want to see that."

He walked away with a relaxed stride, greeting one of the technicians along the way.

The hangar was almost silent, only the faint hum of the cooling system and the constant flickering of the simulator lights breaking the stillness. You were already inside, with the monitors on, reviewing the previous day's flight data, some binders full of numbers, and the design to maximize the design's capabilities.

Your concentration was interrupted when you heard footsteps behind you and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

When you finally turned to look at him, you found him already inside the simulator module, right at home. But this time, something was different. There was no wind or real gravity, just commands and screens. There, he couldn't improvise. He had to follow your instructions.

"Today you'll be flying with the support system decoupled," you said, as you sat down at the console. "I want to see how you react with the more sensitive response time."

"Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"I'm trying to gauge the ideal driver. A inflated ego works for me, but not when you have to turn into a blind spot."

Hal placed his hands on the controls and looked at you through the reflection in the glass. "Are you always this demanding?"

"With those who can handle it, yes."

The simulator fired up, and the flight environment was projected around him. A desert runway, crosswinds, virtual obstacles. Hal initiated the takeoff with ease, but as soon as he took off, the support system began responding to each command with a sensitivity that made him grit his teeth.

"Wow... this is like flying with your nerves on edge."

"Welcome to my world," you said, without taking your eyes off the screen. "I want to see if your instinct can adapt to a design that doesn't forgive mistakes."

Hal didn't respond right away. He was focused. Very focused. And so were you. For the first time, you saw him not as the public figure, not as the star pilot, but as the real pilot: disciplined, intuitive, committed to every maneuver. And he, on the other side, was beginning to understand something that wasn't visible in the plans or in the technical meetings: the level of thought behind every design decision.

While he kept his mind focused on the simulator, you watched his reactions closely. How he adjusted the controls, how he corrected the angle almost instinctively... but not entirely. In this configuration, the plane needed more than reflexes: it needed understanding. Anticipation. Confidence.

"You're rushing the second turn," you told him over the intercom, without looking at his face. "It's not a speed curve, it's an endurance test. If you accelerate there, it'll throw you out at the limit of your range."

“Got it,” Hal replied, and to your surprise, he immediately corrected himself, without arguing or trying to justify the mistake.

That brought a smile to your face. Because in that moment, you weren't seeing the Hal everyone knew. He wasn't the arrogant pilot everyone admired, but someone who took what you had created seriously, who listened, and who trusted your information.

And that was priceless.

He completed the sequence with just a 0.4-degree deviation. Not bad for a first unassisted attempt. When he took off his helmet, he had a genuine smile, tired but satisfied.

"That was intense," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But brilliant, I feel like it was almost not a pretender."

"And it was only 60% of peak performance," you replied, lowering your gaze slightly to hide your own smile.

Hal looked at you with a mixture of weariness, respect… and something else. Fascination, perhaps. Something new to him. Something he couldn't reduce to numbers or speed.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said with unusual sincerity.

"I suspected as much," you joked. "But I like hearing it out loud."

There was a pause. Not an awkward one. Rather, a dense one. Charged. As if they both knew they were about to cross an invisible boundary.

Hal looked down for a second, then looked up again. "And you? Have you ever flown?"

You shook your head gently, smiling. "Never. I like to see everything from the ground up. Designing something that can support others up there… that's enough for me."

He looked at you as if he'd just realized something important. As if he could finally see your connection to the air. "So... what did I get? the pleasure of give you a class? A night out?"

You smiled mischievously. "Winning something? You just had the best experience of your life, Jordan."

"Yeah" he said, putting his helmet aside. "But I don't think it was the best part of my day yet."

And as you shut down the systems, your fingers still on the controls and your mind filled with data, you felt it. That subtle tension, that suspended moment where the work was ending… but something else was just beginning.

He stared at you from the module, certain that this wouldn't be the last simulator you two would share, and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be more than just a test pilot for a girl like you.

[athenalvss]

Imagine a Dick Grayson x reader where Bruce accidentally walks in on them

YES, MY LOVE? ( Dick grayson! )

summary: Dick has a broken leg, a beautiful girlfriend, and a nice bed in a house where no one is around, so why shouldn't he enjoy his moment in the spotlight?

pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

cw: smut ( p in v), get caught.

open request - Dick masterlist

The manor was completely silent. Everything was wrapped in soft shadows, with the moon filtering through the hallway's enormous windows and the night breeze caressing the heavy curtains.

You'd received a message from Dick during the day asking you to come to the mansion to keep him company while he rested. He was tired of sitting alone, staring at the ceiling, counting nonexistent cracks, and complaining about "the sad temporary death of his nightlife." So why would you say no to your poor boyfriend with a broken leg?

You crossed the entrance without making a sound, went straight up to his room, and when you opened the door you found him lying on the bed, with an open book on his chest, the cast resting on several pillows and the face of a dramatic martyr.

"As far as I can see, you're alive, darling. How lucky you are." You said from the doorway, taking off your jacket.

"Barely. You don't know what it was like to watch three documentaries in a row about antique furniture restoration. I'm about to ask Alfred if I can rearrange the bookcase by color."

You approached, giggling, and carefully climbed onto the bed, lying down beside him. "So you need me to keep you from leaving your life as a security guard and becoming a decorator?"

"Exactly. My righteous soul is in danger," he replied, turning slightly toward you with that soft smile that seemed innocent as he rested his head on your chest. "And besides... I missed you."

You stroked his jaw, and he closed his eyes for a second, as if that simple gesture was what he truly needed to heal. Your lips found his in a slow, leisurely kiss, until you felt his hands clutch your waist with a mischievous smile until you pulled away. "I missed you too, Dickie."

He groaned faintly, as if hearing that nickname weakened him more than any wound on the battlefield. "Don't call me that if you're not going to stay all night," he said, hiding his smile in your collarbone, his voice vibrating against your skin.

"I have to go to college tomorrow" you sighed, your fingers playing with his hair.

Dick pulled away just to look at you, his brow furrowed slightly and his expression a mixture of Greek tragedy and subtle emotional blackmail.

"You can skip it. For a noble cause. You can say your boyfriend is slowly dying of boredom and needs constant company to survive."

You laughed softly as he gently pulled you towards him again, cradling you against his chest. "You're very persuasive for someone who's immobilized in one leg."

“I’m using the only thing I have left: my charm,” he replied in a deep voice, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t leave me tonight, i beg you, im young, vulnerable and horny”

You rolled your eyes, but clung to him with the same need. Dick had that dangerous ability to persuade; the way he touched you made you dizzy, the way each touch felt as natural as breathing. At some point, between laughter, soft kisses, and wordless promises, you both ended up under the sheets, sharing the warmth of a moment that seemed eternal. You couldn't help but think the force he used while he tried to move with his leg in a cast was ridiculous, but even that was adorable in its clumsiness. And you couldn't help but help him settle in while he gently pulled you on top of him, as if nothing could hurt him more tonight than the distance between you.

"Dick, are you sure there's no one here?"

"Trust me," he replied with absolute certainty, running a hand down your back. "We have the mansion to ourselves. It's a blessing from the universe. As if Gotham were saying: Today, Dickie, today is your turn to be happy."

You kissed him again, deeper this time. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he caressed your waist, his breathing mingling with yours. Your legs were on either side of his hips, the heat between you slowly rising like a tide. His hands, firm but gentle, gripped your waist, slowly guiding you to continue grinding his clothed cock, which you could feel growing at the friction of your panties.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky from the closeness, while his fingers went up just below your shirt, trying to remove it and let him see your songs moving to your rhythm.

Your smile curved at the sight of him so exhausted. You slowly lowered your torso until his lips found yours again. The kiss was hungrier, deeper. Your hands moved up to his already ready cock, feeling his muscles tense beneath your fingers.

"You're killing me," he murmured through gritted teeth, his smile barely trembling as he felt his cock sink into your wetness. "What a beautiful way to die."

"sure no one's there, right?" you whispered against his ear, a playful smile on your lips. "I don't want them to see me riding on your cock."

"I told you..." Dick whispered, smiling against your neck as he held you against him, not wanting you to move yet, both of you in his bed, sharing the warmth under the sheets. "No one's home. Alfred's in the cave, and Bruce left tonight. He never comes around."

His lips moved down your collarbone, and you chuckled, stroking his messy hair. His leg was in a cast, yes, but that hadn't stopped him from moving his hips toward you with that signature "I've been through worse, this isn't going to slow me down" look.

His hips found a rhythm of their own, slow but determined, grinding against you with clear purpose. That smile of his settled on his face.

"Look, I'm hurt, huh?" he murmured against your skin. "You could show me some mercy."

"More mercy than this?" you replied, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly, your voice barely trembling from everything you were feeling. "I'm riding you with my tits in your face. I can't do much more..."

Dick's laugh was drowned in a deep sigh. His fingers gripped your waist tightly, as if he needed to anchor himself to you so he wouldn't lose his mind.

The room, once silent save for broken whispers, was now filled with rapid breathing, wet thuds, and the creaking of the bed as the heat grew between you. It was a moment suspended in time, so intimate that it hurt to think it might end soon.

Dick's lips found yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, while his body, still limited, surrendered completely to what you allowed him to do. "Keep squeezing my cock baby, I'm gonna cum, shit," he murmured, his voice breaking, his forehead resting against yours.

Your hips began to move with more urgency, as if each touch sought to satisfy all the pent up needs of all those days of waiting. Dick looked at you as if you were all he needed to stay whole, as if the pain in his leg were just background noise compared to the comfort of having you like this, so close, so devoted. His fingers trembled slightly against your skin, but they didn't stop clinging to you, guiding you, seeking more of that connection that seemed to envelop them completely.

"Don't stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse, against your neck. "Please... don't stop."

"Dick, are you awake?" Bruce's deep voice cut off abruptly.

Both of you froze in that instant even though you had both had the best orgasm since you started dating, still feeling his thick threads of cum filling your soaked pussy, your first reaction was to cover yourself with the sheet up to your head, leaving Dick with his head resting against your chest, letting out an exhausted grunt.

Bruce didn't move for a couple of long seconds. "...You should be resting," he said at last, in that serious, dry tone he used when he was suppressing the urge to lecture.

"I was resting," Dick replied without lifting his head from your breasts, still hidden in the sheets.

"And no lock on the door."

"Whose fault is that?"

Bruce took a deep breath through his nose, as if he were doing mental yoga to keep from setting the mansion on fire. "Finish ruining the bed," he said, turning toward the hallway. "But we'll talk tomorrow."

Clic.

The door closed firmly.

Silence.

Dick stood there, leaning against you, completely motionless.

"Richard?"

"Yes my love?"

"I'm gonna kill you"

[athenalvss]

Thinking about Hal Jordan x reader. Something soft and silly where Barry’s got a bit of a crush on his girl.

MAYBE SHE LIKES FLASH ( Hal jordan! )

summary: Barry tells Hal about a girl who is always in the eye of the storm helping to save people and how attracted he is to her, but when he meets her Barry wants to disappear from the earth.

pairing: Hal Jordan x Blue lantern! fem reader

request - Hal masterlist

The corner cafe near the League Tower wasn't exactly glamorous, but it had good espresso and few cameras, making it a decent retreat for two civilian superheroes who just wanted to chat like normal people. Barry stirred his coffee with a plastic spoon, making circles as if the movement helped him gather his thoughts.

"I swear it's not a big deal," Barry said, smiling awkwardly as he stirred his coffee. "Just... I don't know. I always run into her at Central when there's trouble. It's like she has radar for explosions."

Hal looked at him from across the table, one eyebrow raised. “A civilian?”

"Yes, absolutely. I think she works near the center. she's always around that area," Barry replied, unconsciously lowering his voice, as if saying it out loud would give more weight to everything he'd been suppressing. "And she's always close to danger for some reason, but she never reacts in a hurry, never seems afraid, always stays to help."

He paused, his gaze lost for a second in the café window. And, unwillingly, he smiled. He thought of the time he saw her pull a baby boy from the rubble of a destroyed toy store. How the baby had trembled in her hands as she cradled him, but she continued to speak to him in a calm voice. He thought of how she had said "thank you" to him with her eyes still full of dust and her smile intact.

"She has that vibe of... you know," he said. "A good person. One of those, when they're there, they make a difference. A beautiful smile, and a look... as if she's known you all her life even though she's seeing you for the first time. She's one of those girls who... I don't know. Makes you want to introduce yourself. To invite her out for coffee."

Hal watched him intently, his arms crossed and his expression carefully neutral. He didn't say anything right away.

And Barry, who didn't suspect anything, just shrugged. "I guess she has that... I don't know, like a light. Something that gives you peace. Maybe that's why I can't get her out of my head."

Hal held his mug, turning it slowly between his fingers, before calmly answering. "She hits you hard, huh?" he said, without judgment, just stating the obvious.

Barry gave a short, somewhat embarrassed laugh. "No. I mean, not loud. It just kept going around in my head. It's weird. She's a civilian, probably has a boyfriend, a cat, a normal life... But if I run into her again, I'll cheer up. Anyway... what's the worst that can happen?"

Hal took a sip of his drink, saying nothing. He just smiled, but it was barely perceptible. "Well, maybe you'll get lucky and she'll like Flash."

Barry smiled, half-excited. "Can you imagine? I run into her one more time and I cheer up. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

Hal calmly lowered his cup, barely shrugging. "Who knows, Barry... the world goes around."

Days later, Barry was walking through a pedestrian zone in Central City, fresh off patrol. Out of uniform, wearing dark glasses, and in the typical need for a cup of coffee. Just as he stopped in front of his usual coffee shop, he saw them: a couple, laughing at one of the small tables in the sun.

It took him a second to recognize Hal Jordan. Leather jacket, glasses dangling from his neck, that carefree attitude, Hal saw him first.

"Barry!" he greeted in his usual confident, half-mocking voice. "What a coincidence. Come on, I'll introduce you to someone."

Slowly, he approached the table where the two were enjoying the lovely afternoon. you turned to him curiously, and upon recognizing him, you smiled. The same smile. The one Barry had often imagined behind a cup of coffee or in the middle of an explosion. .

"Hi," you said politely, holding out your hand. "So you're Barry."

"Huh? Me? Do you know me?"

"Of course. Hal always talks about you. A lot. Especially when he's complaining" you said, laughing."t's nice to see you without an explosion in the background.

"Uh... yeah," Barry said, with a nervous laugh. "I'm trying that walking thing today."

Hal was already settling into his chair with gusto. "Barry, this is my girlfriend. Although I think you've met before, right?"

"Yeah, uh..." He looked at her, trying to sound normal. "We ran into each other a couple of times. Nothing major. Landslides. Fire. Just the routine, you know."

"You're always where you're needed," you said, leaning slightly towards him. "It's kind of funny always running into each other."

"Yeah, it's funny," Barry replied, forcing a smile. "But you didn't seem too surprised to be there either."

You gave him a gentle look. One that neither confirmed nor denied anything. "Let's just say... I have a certain affinity for emergencies."

"Affinity?" Barry repeated, tilting his head slightly. "It sounds… uncivil."

"It depends on how you define “civilian,” you said with a half smile. “All three of us are civilians, aren’t we?”

Barry nodded, swallowing. “Well, I don’t remember seeing you, you know, the other way.”

You crossed your arms, smiling playfully, as if that sentence opened the door to a secret you weren't quite ready to share. "I don't usually flaunt it," you replied. "Sometimes, being discreet helps more than being the center of attention, especially if you're dressed all in blue."

Hal burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the scene. "She prefers to keep a low profile," he said simply. "But trust me, when things get ugly, she's the first one to show up in a suit."

Barry looked at you with a mixture of astonishment and resignation, as if he understood that all that "affinity" you'd mentioned had a deeper explanation. "So you're not so civil after all."

"Not exactly," you confirmed with a smile. "Want to stay and have a drink with us? We have a free seat."

"No, thanks. I'll have coffee waiting for me... and you know, supervillains never rest," Barry said, standing up with a tired but genuine smile.

Hal leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in satisfaction. "So you run away just when you could learn a thing or two."

"Let's just say I'd rather face explosions than awkward conversations," Barry replied, winking at you before walking away. "But thanks for the invitation."

You watched him walk away, his figure disappearing into the crowd. "He's a nice guy, stop bothering him" you commented.

Hal nodded, still smiling. He laced his fingers through yours, and the world kept turning, with more things to say and fewer words to weigh them down.

Barry turned and left. He walked a few feet. And he muttered, without pausing: "The world is spinning, Barry, maybe he likes Flash" he repeated mockingly. "Perfect, now I'm going to have to disappear from this earth so he'll stop making fun of me."

Damn Hal Jordan.

[athenalvss]

Hey sorry to bother you but imagine how Jordan as a girl dad like him having a daughter and being very sweet loving and protective of his own daughter and the reader she always has a smile on her face because seeing her daughter and her husband having tea parties together and playing dress up is so cute to her of course Hal and the reader's daughter always puts makeup on hal and the reader tries so hard not to laugh because it's so hilarious seeing him his hair in a cute bow and make up all over his face and him using a girly voice and asking how do you remove makeup without him trying to laugh because he would do anything for his precious little daughter also imagine if the reader wanting another baby because their daughter is such a sweet girl and she could always have a friend that is a sibling what do you think though again sorry to bother you sorry if this is long

A WHOLE TEAM ( Hal Jordan! )

summary: Hal makes first time motherhood feel amazing, and he seems to do it on purpose to make you want another member of the family.

pairing: Dad! Hal Jordan x Mom! fem reader

Note: This is general, don't be afraid or embarrassed to make a request, and don't apologize for bothering me bc you won't do that! I really do this bc i enjoy it and you guys always have great ideas that I can't think of. That being said, thanks for the request and enjoy!

request - Hal masterlist - part 2

From the day you first held Olivia on your chest, your life had changed in ways you didn't even know were possible. The gentle breathing of your newborn daughter and the presence that gave you the most security in this world, Hal, stood beside you, his large, rough hand resting on your shoulder with a tenderness that completely disarmed you.

His fingers caressed your skin as if he couldn't believe something so perfect and fragile had just happened. He leaned down, placed a kiss on your temple, and whispered in your ear, "You did amazing, love. She's... she's perfect."

What you didn't know at the time was that Hal, with his endearing clumsiness, tender humor, and unconditional love, would make being a first time mom feel like the greatest adventure in the world.

From that day on, seeing them together became your favorite ritual. Olivia had inherited his crooked smile, his curious eyes, but also an infinite capacity to make you laugh, and having Hal as her accomplice, your house became a constant scene of games, laughter, and adorable disasters that there were days when the two of them drove you a little crazy.

Like that Saturday morning.

Hal had stayed with her while you went out to do some quick shopping. Not even twenty minutes had passed when you returned and found the house a bit dilapidated.

There was glitter on the kitchen rug, and a row of stuffed animals arranged as an audience in front of a makeshift "catwalk" made of a folded blanket in the living room. The scene was perfectly staged, although none of the protagonists were visible, which made it even more suspicious and funny.

You walked into the room, the echo of an improvised conversation coming through like a children's movie script.

"Miss Green, you need some blush!" Olivia said, in her lilting voice, as if she were a professional makeup artist.

"Didn't you tell me that before?" Hal responded, feigning drama.

"That was the blush from before. This is the real blush."

"Oh, right... and you say this goes away quickly?"

Your laughter almost escaped you before it was time. Peeking through the door only confirmed what you were eavesdropping on. Hal was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, dressed in a pink tutu that barely fit around his waist, with small hair clips that you used for your daughter's hair, and his cheeks were bright red from the blush your daughter was giving him.

Olivia, with a concentration that any artist would envy, stood on Hal's legs while he held her for balance, feeling her apply the colorful powders he used to play. Hal endured it stoically, grimacing every time the brush passed over his nose, making him want to sneeze.

"You look beautiful, Daddy," she said, kissing his forehead.

"I know, my love, but if you make me shine any brighter, I'll be competing with the sun, and he might get jealous."

Your hand rested gently against the doorframe as you stood there, silent, watching them. The scene had a level of tenderness that made your heart clench. Not only because of how Hal gave himself over to the game with total dedication, without shame or haste, but also because of how Olivia glowed at feeling heard, important, the protagonist of her own story.

Four years had flown by, and every year had been different since she came into both of their lives, different in the best sense. Because you no longer thought of the days in terms of hours or tasks, but in terms of laughter, invented songs, jumbled phrases that had become part of your family's language. Olivia had changed your world with her small hands, her eternal questions, and her ability to fill the silence with life.

And yet, despite having it all, a part of you couldn't help but wish for a little more. Not because anything was missing, but because everything was so incredible that you wanted to repeat it. You loved living this way, and you wanted to duplicate that miracle, relive that tenderness from the beginning.

You pictured yourself once again holding a baby, Hal asleep on the couch with a newborn on top of him, Olivia asking if she could sing a song to her little sibling or teach Daddy how to tie bows too. You pictured the baby's scent, the warmth of a tiny body on your chest, the chaos of two laughs instead of one.

And a need so intense, so physical, swept over you that it almost made you dizzy. The desire, so clear, so urgent.

Your heart knew it before your mouth: you wanted another baby.

You wanted to relive the whole experience again. You wanted to give your daughter a little brother or sister, because, in your mind, it wasn't good for her to grow up alone. Who would she share secrets, pranks, and made-up games with? Who would lend her clothes, or who would get mad at her for using their toys without permission? Because yes, you knew siblings also fought, but that was part of growing up together, part of having someone with whom to share unique moments that only the two of you could understand.

And beyond that, you wanted to see Hal like that again. You wanted to see his softer, more vulnerable side again. That tenderness that only appeared when he held a baby in his large arms. You remembered him stroking newborn Olivia's hair with an almost reverential gentleness, as if he were touching a miracle. You remembered how he looked at you, exhausted but happy, with eyes full of pride and wonder, as if you were invincible.

You wanted that again, for you, for him, for the three of us.

"What are you doing there, honey? Are you laughing at me, Mrs. Jordan?" she asked, raising a made up eyebrow.

"I never would," you lied as you returned to reality, entering the scene to kiss Olivia's forehead, avoiding her wand. "I'm just... admiring the spectacle."

Hal looked at you with that mixture of tenderness and mischief that disarmed you. He had glitter on his eyelashes, pink lipstick, and tiny bows in his hair, but he was still the most beautiful man in the world. And there, so close to him, with the scent of Olivia's cologne mixed with the powdery makeup, with that soft laugh on the surface of your skin and your heart filled with a love you didn't know how to contain, and you knew it in seconds.

You weren't going to hold out much longer without telling him.

The three of you stayed playing in the living room until the sunlight began to turn orange. Hal cooked pasta while you helped Olivia draw pictures for her “art gallery,” which was nothing more than the refrigerator door completely covered in notepads. Then the three of you ate together, amid laughter, sauce stains, and a made-up song about dinosaurs and food. And when it was bath time, Olivia convinced Hal to let her play with the shampoo foam as if it were the most fun thing in the world.

You watched them all the time with that same feeling in your chest, when you heard their giggle echoing throughout the bathroom when Hla threw water on them, that gentle warmth, that insistent idea that no longer wanted to go away.

And finally, when they read her her favorite story, and Olivia fell asleep cuddling her teddy bear, the house fell silent. You carefully covered her, and Hal turned off the nightlight, leaving the room barely lit by the sticky stars on the ceiling.

you closed the door softly.

In the hallway, Hal stretched with a sigh and put his arm around you. His hair was still damp from the shower, and there was a bit of glitter on his temple that you managed to brush off with your fingertip.

"Are you okay?" he asked suddenly, without letting go of you.

You stopped dead in your tracks. "Yes. Why?"

"I don't know," he said, lowering his voice, as if he didn't want to break the moment of calm. "You were weird today. Not bad. Just... like you were thinking a lot. Like your head was somewhere else."

You were silent for a second. Long enough for him to stop too and look at you directly. "It's all right, really."

But Hal never knew you that well; it was impossible for him not to notice your change. No matter how much you smiled, how much you pretended to be between games, dinners, and bedtime stories, he always found a way to decipher the difference in your gaze.

Already in the bedroom, while you were taking out your earrings and Hal was leaving his shirt on a chair, he came over and looked at you with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Well..." he said, in that low voice he used when he was studying you without you noticing. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, pretending not to understand. "What do you mean?"

"Since this morning you've been... strange. Quiet. Or smiling too much. I know you, my love. You're thinking something, and you're not letting me in."

You stood still. The warm light from the night lamp gave his face a soft glow. He still had traces of eyeshadow on his eyelids, which made him look ridiculous and charming at the same time.

"I just didn't know how to say it," you admitted, looking down. "I don't want you to think I'm not happy. Because I am. Very happy. Maybe more than I thought I could be."

He approached slowly and placed his hands on your waist. "Hey. Say it. Whatever it is."

You took a deep breath. "I want to have another baby."

Hal blinked. He didn't say anything at first. But his hands didn't move from your waist. He looked at you, now with that mocking, mischievous smile. He looked at you tenderly, attentively, with that pure way of his of making you feel heard without having to say a single word.

"Today..." you continued, your voice lower. "Today I saw you with her and... I don't know. I felt something so strong. Like a certainty. A need. Not because something is missing, on the contrary... because everything is so right that I want to do it again. With you."

He lowered his head, smiling against your forehead, placing a soft kiss there before speaking. "You want me to give you a baby so badly, don't you? How could I not have noticed this baby fever you have?" he whispered with a deep laugh, immediately hugging you. A full hug. The kind that envelops you and holds you tight, as if it could shield you from everything outside that room.

You laughed too, your eyes moist with emotion and the mixture of feelings. "I don't know if it's crazy or if it's too soon, but... don't look at me like that," you pleaded, your voice tight in your throat. "I know I sound crazy."

"No," he interrupted you, firm but sweet. "It's not crazy, not if you feel that way. Because I've thought about it too, several times to be honest. Watching her grow makes me want to start over. And if you want..." he caressed your cheek, leaning down to touch your nose, "I want to too."

"Really?"

"I'd make you a whole team if you asked me."

"Well," you said with a crooked smile, "I don't think that's a hard job for you."

Hal let out a low laugh, leaning closer, his lips barely brushing your ear. "It's true," he whispered, his tone creeping down your spine like a shiver. "I love doing dirty work."

"Oh, really?" you asked, amused, biting your lip.

"And I'm good at it, in case you need references" he added, already wrapping his arms around your waist, gently pushing you towards the bed

"Are your references verifiable?" you asked, your voice a whisper as you felt his weight rest on you with that delicious familiarity.

"Absolutely. In fact, I have one satisfied client right here in this room," he replied with a sly smile, lowering his head to kiss your jawline.

"Just one?" you joked, narrowing your eyes. "How modest."

You laughed softly, tangling your fingers around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Between laughter, kisses that weren't so soft or innocent touches, with his body fitting perfectly against yours and his hands knowing every corner, you knew without a doubt. You weren't alone in that desire; he wanted more too, and you wanted everything with him, again and again.

[athenalvss]

HAL JORDAN MASTERLIST

open request - dc masterlist - playlist

ONESHOT

○ a whole team Hal makes first time motherhood feel amazing, and he seems to do it on purpose to make you want another member of the family.

⤷ come on Oli! It's common knowledge that the Green Lanterns never got along with Batman, and Hal can't believe his teenage daughter is dating the Batman's youngest son.

○ fast hal You and Hal are just a couple of horny lanterns who can't keep their hands off each other, and how could they not be when those suits look so good on them?

DABBLE

○ maybe she likes flash Barry tells Hal about a girl who is always in the eye of the storm helping to save people and how attracted he is to her, but when he meets her Barry wants to disappear from the earth.

○ Passionate girl Hal likes the cute and passionate engineer, and wouldn't mind being more than just her special test pilot.

HEADCONES

○

○

[athenalvss]

Okay, I've been reading a bit of Green Lantern and now I'm a bit like a whore for Hal Jordan. any writing ideas???

[athenalvss]

July 31st is my birthday, can I ask for a (superhero) Wally West x (journalist) Female Reader dating, the female reader being kinda grumpy but every time Wally smiles she kinda melts🥹💕 pretty please?

TO THE BEAUTIFUL JOURNALIST – ( Wally west! )

Summary: Wally comes to your workplace and can't help but do cute things to distract you.

pairing: Wally west x fem reader

Note: Happy bday, anon! I hope you have a wonderful day and that is filled with beautiful things.

open request - Wally west masterlist

In your professional life, you weren't exactly known for your sweetness and dazzling personality. You were a focused person who knew what you wanted and how to get there. And in a profession like journalism, it was really important to demonstrate a strong personality and clear boundaries. That's why you were good at your job. Too good, some would say. Always on the trail of some political scandal or some rotten truth behind the city's facade. You didn't have time for gossip columns or empty chatter that wouldn't help you grow in your professional career or your personal life, and you certainly didn't have time to date anyone.

And even less so with a superhero.

When you met Wally, your whole life turned upside down, because he was everything you weren't. A jokester, with a bright personality, a ridiculously optimistic guy, and a smile so bright it should be against the law.

And you? Well, you had a sour face and made the interns cry just by looking at them.

But somehow, that insufferable sprinter wormed his way into your life. You didn't even remember when it started. Maybe it was the fifth time he saved you from being run over because you were crossing the street while writing in your notebook, or maybe it was when he sneaked into your office every morning to leave a cappuccino on your desk with cute notes, like he had today.

“To the most brilliant, most feared, and most kissable journalist in the city. – W”

You took a deep breath as you sat down and slipped his note into a box in the drawer of your wooden desk. While you sipped the cappuccino, you smelled it, tasted it, and it was perfect. He always made it perfect.

And just when you thought you were going to settle down so you could move forward with the report on the mayor's irregular bidding, you heard that familiar low buzzing sound followed by a draft next to you.

"You're interrupting," you said without taking your eyes off the screen.

"Interrupting or brightening your day?" Wally replied, appearing at your side as if the newsroom were his home.

"That's debatable."

"But you didn't deny it," he replied, leaving you a bag of your favorite pastries next to your coffee. "It's always nice to have a little Wally to start the day off right."

You barely turned your head to look at him. He was smiling. Of course he was. As if he didn't have a care in the world. As if the chaos of Central City froze when he was with you.

"Don't you have an emergency to deal with? A burglar, a fire, something that's faster than you?"

"That can wait five minutes, you can't."

You shook your head, holding back that smile that threatened to betray your image as a serious, unwavering woman. You were trying to resist his charms, really, but how could you not allow a cute and charismatic ginger man into your life?

"Thank you," you murmured softly, without looking at him at all.

"You're welcome, my love," he replied, with a soft, genuine smile. "Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I was supposed to go with Dick in a few minutes, but it's very early."

You glanced at him, as if you wanted to keep your expression neutral, but you already knew you'd lost him from the moment he said "my love" so naturally. Why did he have to be so cute? With that freckled face and that cute smile.

"As long as you don't touch anything," you finally said, looking back at the screen, "you can stay."

"I promise not to break anything or make noise, or at least not too much."

You rolled your eyes, but didn't correct him. He settled into the empty chair across from your desk as if he were at home, resting his chin on his hand and watching you work with that ridiculously enchanted attention he always had for you.

"Stop looking at me like that" you muttered once, without looking up from your papers, as he leaned back on your desk as if it belonged to him.

"Like what?" he replied with that smile that drove you crazy. "Like I love you? cause I love you."

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way the corners of your mouth lifted without permission. "Did I tell you you're pretty annoying?"

"You like me to be annoying, you'd be very bored without me," he replied without hesitation.

You tapped him on the arm with a folder, just to mark the boundary. But you didn't move when he took your hand and rested his cheek against the back of your fingers, as if he were a little puppy looking for affection. As if the human ray who saved lives daily also needed, from time to time, the cold of your skin to feel at home.

And there you were, resisting as best you could, while he looked at you with that crooked smile, so confident, so luminous... that although you didn't want to admit it, that smile was your weakness.

He looked up, his cheek still resting on your fingers. His green eyes shone with that warmth that always left you a little breathless. And you, who had always been good at hiding your feelings, knew that with him, it no longer made sense.

It was your weak spot, obviously hidden, no one should know that.

And it was then, without giving you time to react, that he leaned in and stole a quick kiss. You didn't even see it coming; it was just a second, a soft, fleeting, precise touch. A burst of speed and warm lips that you barely managed to process before he was no longer there.

You froze, still holding the folder, a puzzled expression as you watched your office door still moving from your boyfriend's speed.

"Wallace West!" you exclaimed, but it was too late.

The door slammed shut. He was gone.

And you just stood there, in the silence, a stupid, treacherous smile beginning to spread across your face. You tried to wipe it away, but it was impossible as long as you remembered that cute, freckled face that haunted you the whole time.

[athenalvss]

THE DAMNED PLAN ( Jason todd! )

summary: When Talia orders you to follow Jason during his training, you didn't think her plan would work so well.

pairing: Jason todd x Assassin! fem reader

note: I'm gonna use a lot the vibes of the redhood lost days comics so if you see something similar, that's why

reddish, madly duet masterlist - opinions/ideas

The first and only time you'd ever seen the Lazarus Pit work was when Talia carried Jason's body, which still wasn't responding as it had before. He moved with reflexes that weren't his own, with a strength she didn't quite recognize as her own. Every muscle felt new. Every thought, old and rusty, needed it to become a normal person again, to stop acting like muscle memory and become a rational being again.

You had been amazed to see the results of the well, the complete opposite of the great Ra's Al Ghul, the immortal man cried out to heaven for his daughter's actions, how could she have risked leaving a man completely crazy just to be able to win the love of the masked man? And without hesitating for a moment he decided to send him away from everything, far from where his former guardian could find him and far from his new protector, Talia.

But he didn't expect his daughter's obsession with his new experiment to go so far as to help him escape and allow him to gain the knowledge he needed to achieve what he so desperately wanted: his revenge.

"Talia won't survive alone there," you said, crossing your arms, your gaze fixed on the reflection Jason cast against the still waters of the Pit.

"That's precisely why he won't be," Talia replied. "He'll have good company."

The voice of Ra's's daughter was like a blade wrapped in silk. You never knew if she was flattering you or warning you.

You turned to her, unsurprised. You already knew it; you were with him. "Why me?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

"Because I know you won't betray me," Talia replied, without even looking at you. "He'll trust you, you know what to do."

And that was all.

Months had passed since that conversation with Talia. Months since the first time you saw Jason, a boy filled with pent-up resentment and anger. Someone who no longer expected anything from anyone, feeling utterly betrayed. His goal was to keep training until he was ready for his revenge. For that day when he could repay all the suffering and forgetfulness he'd experienced.

Talia knew what she was doing when she sent you with him. It only took a look and a few words for you to understand what she expected of you, and it worked.

Jason had begun to trust you, just as Talia had told you, although it hadn't been immediate, you had managed to do so. You spent almost twenty four hours a day together. You trained, fought, and argued, but you were always there for him.

You were the only thing he had in this new life.

After the Pit, he was back. He no longer just looked like a robot, but he wasn't a complete human being either. His body was stronger, his reflexes sharper, but something in him was broken. He moved like a soldier, but sometimes he looked like a lost boy, and although he didn't say it out loud, you had also become his safe place.

It was a strange bond they had, but it grew stronger every day, so much so that sometimes you could even get confused.

So, just when you thought their bond was stable, the night they went on the mission seemed like just another one. It was a simple job: get in, retrieve the information, get out without a trace.

That's what you two said, that's what you had planned and what you both had agreed to, but Jason didn't understand what it meant to follow a plan.

"Not yet," you whispered into the communicator, hidden in the shadows as you watched from the top of the complex.

"They're distracted, it's now or never," he replied.

“Wait for my signal,” you insisted in a firm voice.

"I'm not good at waiting."

With a dry scream, he fell on the first guard, knocking him out, and the stealth crumbled like a house of cards. Within seconds, the alarms sounded. The lights came on. The shooting began. From one moment to the next, you found him in the center of the chaos. He had taken down three men, but one was coming at him from behind with a knife, and another was aiming a gun from a distance.

“Shit, Jason!” you growled, jumping down from the beam to cover his flank.

It was brutal.

You moved with surgical precision. Every blow, every shot, every dodge was calculated. Jason was pure impulse. Fury in human form.

And that almost killed him again.

One of the guards, wounded but conscious, raised a weapon from the ground. Jason didn't see him. He was distracted, turning to another target.

You saw him, and you didn't hesitate for a second. You jumped in front of him, the shot grazing your arm, but you kept going, knocking down the enemy with a quick spin, your face impassive, your breathing controlled.

Jason stood still, staring at you.

The noise of the fight was beginning to fade. Now only the two of you remained.

" you okay?" he asked, without moving.

"I'm fine, can't you see?" you replied, clenching your jaw as you covered the wound.

"You got shot because of me..."

"Yes, they did, happy?"

"You could have left me," he tried to speak before you interrupted him.

"It doesn't work that way, Jason. Stick to the damn plan."

The cut on your arm burned, but not as much as the rage you felt, your breathing was still labored, colliding with each other.

"What the fuck was that?" you spat, moving closer. "Do you want to die? Is that the plan?"

"It was under control," he murmured, but even he didn't believe it.

"They were going to blow your fucking head off, Jason." You stared at him, frowning as you kept your hand resting on your wound. "Haven't you learned anything all this time? Because if its that, I'm gonna tell Talia that I can't handle you and I'm going to leave."

He frowned, not out of anger, but from something deeper. Guilt, perhaps, shame, but also something you didn't want to name, something you'd learned to read over all your years of training.

The air grew thick between you, you were so close you could feel the heat emanating from his body, the tension in his muscles, it was pure, ill-contained need.

"Don't mix things up," you said, although your voice no longer sounded as firm.

"They're already messed up," he replied. His gaze rested on your wound for a second, then returned to yours. "It's been a while, and it's all your fault. Do you think I don't notice everything you do?" His voice was low, raspy, and he continued, taking a step closer. "Every time you touch me in training. Every time you talk to me like that. Every time you look at me and then pretend it was nothing."

And then he did it, he kissed you.

The gesture was clumsy, abrupt, impulsive, like everything about him. He acted without thinking, with the urgency of someone who didn't know if he'd ever get another chance. Your lips didn't move at first; you stayed still, feeling his movements, but you didn't push him either, you didn't stop him, and for him, it was almost a victory.

When he pulled away, his eyes searched yours, as if he expected you to either tell him it was okay or tear him apart.

"If you do whatever you want again, I swear I'll kill you, Jason Todd" you whispered.

[athenalvss]

Can I ask for a Barry Allen x fem! reader?! For the Hot Wife section, please!

IN ALL TIMELINES ( hot wife series )

summary: When the Justice League ends up in another timeline, they wonder what each of their lives will be like, but something surprises and traumatized Barry.

pairing: Bruce wayne x wife!reader, (platonic) Barry Allen x fem!reader

cw: just a short amut part

open request - hot wife masterlist - part 2

The energy from the time warp had left their skin tingling slightly, as if every cell in their bodies were still settling into place. Barry was the first to regain his balance, gently vibrating to stabilize his molecules. Bruce landed with his usual precision. Diana descended from the air in silence.

Around him, Gotham, but not his Gotham.

It was cleaner, quieter, even more peaceful. Gargoyles still decorated the rooftops, but they didn't seem to be watching. The lights were warmer, and everything seemed harmonious with the flowers on the balconies.

"Definitely not our line," Bruce commented, staring at a tower that, in his world, was in ruins. Here, everything gleamed, shining.

"Another Earth?" Clark asked, crossing his arms.

"Not exactly," J'onn replied, having been scanning with his mind since they arrived. "It's not a parallel universe; this is a deviation in the timeline."

"A branch?" Hal raised an eyebrow.

"As a consequence of what we did in Kahndaq," Diana replied, as if she had already anticipated it. "This is no coincidence; time isn't so forgiving when we play with it."

Barry looked in every direction. There was something strange in the air. It felt different to be in this Gotham, a city he hated with all his being in his timeline. But now there was something different in the air. Not a threat, but rather a calm, a balance. Even the breeze had a different scent; it didn't smell of smoke, or blood, or rain. It smelled of jasmine.

"What do we do?" he asked, although his voice sounded lower than usual.

Bruce pulled a device from his belt. Screens, data, projections. "Gather information. Know where we are… and what we did wrong." Bruce says quickly. "we have to go to the Batcave."

The drive there was silent, more so than usual. Even Hal avoided sarcastic comments. Everyone could feel it: that slight pressure in their chests, that discomfort that came not from danger, but from the unknown.

Gotham wasn't dangerous in this timeline, and that somehow made it even more disturbing.

The entrance to the underground access was still hidden beneath a stone slab. Bruce opened it with the same combination as always, but without the slightest sign of surprise on his face. Only his eyes, dark as ever, blinked once too many times.

"The structure is intact," he said. "Improved. The security was updated, but with technology I recognize as my own."

"So you're the one living here?" Hal asked, looking at the reinforced walls. "You don't have to worry anymore. You're still just as rich."

Once inside, the lights instantly came on, bathing the cave in a dim, bluish glow. Everything was familiar, but cleaner. More controlled. There was a kind of new order that even Bruce seemed to notice.

J'onn approached the center console. Diana followed close behind, her arms crossed as she watched the files play in sequence.

"Let's review the public recordings. Recent events. Something that tells us how our variants are behaving," Bruce said matter-of-factly.

Barry, meanwhile, couldn't stop staring at the small details. A mug on a side table. A book with a floral bookmark. Photographs in digital frames, dull but present.

"Why are there so many cars and noise out there?" he asked.

"There must be a charity party or something Alfred has planned," Bruce replied without looking at him.

The central screen vibrated. A series of images flashed rapidly. Close-up: a red carpet. Gotham City. Charity event.

And there you were.

The air seemed to stagnate for a few seconds, the blue dress hugging your figure like a second skin. The neckline fell in a heart shape, and your neck, bare, sparkled with a single diamond stud. You walked down the red carpet as if nothing could touch you. Unattainable. Elegant. Irresistible.

"Your wife is still hot, B," Barry watched with his arms crossed while trying to keep his eyes from leaving her face and ignoring his partner's murderous glare.

But the image was ruined, according to Bruce, when a more confident, assertive, and adult Barry Allen appeared at your side. His arm wrapped around you naturally, his fingers resting with measured possession on your waist.

The real Barry took a step forward, as if the image might escape. “Is it me?” he asked breathlessly.

J'onn nodded. Diana's face remained still, but her eyes quickly fell on Bruce, who, although he looked emotionless, she knew was deeply hurt by seeing those images, examining everything and projecting the associated data.

Name: Barry Allen. Marital status: Married. Length of marriage: 6 years . Joint base of operations: Gotham/Star Labs. Recognized for: Wayne-Allen Foundation, social justice initiatives, diplomatic presence at the United Nations.

"This is real," Hal said, whistling softly. "Flash and the Bat Wife. I never saw that coming."

Barry said nothing. He continued to stare at the frozen image of you, your brilliant laugh, your hand on his other self's arm, leaning in with the ease of someone who trusts.

For a second, it was like looking at something that had never crossed his mind, but that wasn't bad at all.

"I knew I had a chance," he muttered mockingly. "I mean, if she went out with Ollie, it means she likes blonde boys!"

Hal chuckled, but no one else responded.

Bruce closed the projection with a gesture, as if he needed the image to cease to exist. "We'll know for sure in a few minutes," he said, without turning around. "We're going up to the gala."

Barry blinked. “What?”

"The event," Diana explained, "is happening right now… at the mansion."

"And you two," Bruce added, pointing at the alternate Barry and her, "are over there."

A heavy silence fell. It was J'onn who broke it: "We can use it to our advantage. If they're at the mansion, we can infiltrate. Use the party as cover to find Bruce from this timeline and get help."

"And see how the live versions of you perform," Hal added, amused. "This is getting interesting."

Bruce was already walking toward the secret exit passage. "We'll be moving in five minutes. Business suits. No mistakes."

The music floated between marble columns and antique crystals. In the great hall of Wayne Manor, the air smelled of expensive champagne, spices, and power.

Blending into a high-society gala wasn't a difficult task for the League. When they wanted to, they knew how to move among the suits, champagne glasses, and pretentious speeches as if they'd been born there.

"We infiltrate through the service entrance, enter the office, and wait for Bruce on this line," Diana muttered under her breath, adjusting the golden bracelet that was pretending to be a formal piece of jewelry.

"What if he's not here?" Clark asked, straightening his hair.

"It is. This was organized by Wayne Enterprises. It doesn't get much more certain than that," Bruce replied, without any humor.

Gotham was shining that night.

Wayne Manor glowed like an old-fashioned beacon. Warm lights, strains of music drifting between the windows, and dozens of prominent figures brushing against each other as if the city had never bled.

J'onn had projected the most prominent faces from that timeline. One of them appeared on the grand central staircase, descending gracefully.

“Over there,” Hal said. “Look.”

It was you.

The same one they knew, but different. Elegant, yes. But also light. Relaxed. With a lively smile that seemed truly at ease with the world. Alternate Barry at your side spoke to diplomats, but you were the focal point of all eyes. Your blue dress, fitted, with a side slit that revealed your thigh with every step. You walked slowly, with the natural elegance of someone who no longer had to impress anyone.

“Is that…?” Clark whispered.

"Barry," Diana confirmed.

The alternate Flash was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. He had a confident stance, a relaxed expression, a drink in his hand.

"I never thought I'd say this, but... this Barry here seems to know how to behave at a gala," Hal joked.

They watched them interact for a few seconds. You waved, smiled, and barely laughed. You touched Barry's shoulder as you approached a group of businessmen. He whispered something in your ear that made you laugh.

And then he appeared.

Bruce Wayne.

He entered like a shadow dressed in Armani. The entire room seemed to settle without noticing. As if the air itself responded to his presence, and your eyes found him instantly.

“Ah, shit,” Flash muttered, watching the match.

In the distance, the alternate Bruce stopped in front of you with a polite smile. He greeted Barry and another businessman accompanying you, but his eyes remained on you. Then he spoke in that low, elegant tone that brooked no reply:

"Barry, could I steal it from you for a moment? There's a document I'd like to show you before the investors leave."

"Now?" you asked, even though you were already turning toward him. As if your body responded before your mind.

"Just a few minutes. It's about the South End project."

You handed the glass to Barry with a smile. “Could you save it for me? I’ll be back in a few.”

Barry nodded, taking it carefully. “Sure.”

Something in his tone was off, but it was clear he was asking for permission. Barry offered your hand with a polite smile, but his eyes never left yours as you walked away.

Bruce led you through a side door, into what appeared to be a private room.

"What do we do?" Hal asked, lowering his voice.

"We're sticking to the plan," Bruce replied. "Clark, Barry, with me," Bruce ordered, already walking toward the side corridor. "Let's follow them. If that Bruce recognizes us, I need to know before this turns into a disaster."

── .✦

The side door led them down a narrow hallway lined with opaque stained-glass windows and overly soft carpets. Bruce walked beside you, not touching you, but with that presence that seemed to draw you in just by being near.

The silence between you wasn't awkward. It was thick. Old. Full of unspoken things.

They turned a corner. Two guards retreated without question. And then, he opened the door to a dark wood-paneled office.

You walked in without asking and Bruce closed the door behind you, cutting you off from the rest of the world.

Outside in the carpeted hallway, Bruce, Barry, and Clark arrived just in time to see the door close.

"Did you lock it?" Clark murmured, trying the handle.

"Yes," Bruce confirmed. His tone was dry. Very dry.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" Barry snapped, not waiting for a reply.

And then, as if the universe decided to respond in the worst way, it gave him a quick answer.

The sounds began, they were not low or simulated, quite the opposite, it seemed that they did not care at all that anyone heard what was happening in the room.

A gasp. Your voice. Clear. Not screaming, but not trying to hold back either

“God… I missed you so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “Don’t take off your suit.”

The sharp thud of a hip against wood. A low, dark, masculine laugh.

"You're going to have to shut up," Bruce muttered. "I don't think you want anyone to hear us, do you?"

“I don’t care,” you replied, and the next moan came out uncontrollably. Loud. Unbridled. Too real.

Inside, Bruce picked you up and sat you on the desk, continuing to kiss you. The creaking of the wood could be heard from the hallway.

"Do you know how many nights I thought about this?" he growled in your ear. "About you. About your body. About your voice when you came for me."

"Then do it right, Bruce, fuck me please, please".

The attacks began. Fast. Strong. No affection. Just hunger. Just skin.

Your nails scraped his back, your head fell back. The first scream was clear. Clean. A "Bruce" that bounced off the walls. "There... Bruce, there... yes, right there..." your voice vibrated between the walls, high, sharp, fearless. As if you knew there were people outside. "Oh my God... don't stop," you said. "Don't stop..."

And he didn't.

Bruce thrust harder. Again and again. The desk slammed against the wall with every movement. Your moans became uncontrollable.

"Faster… please, Bruce, faster…"

"You still need me so much," he growled against your neck. "You always are, aren't you? You love cock."

The sound of skin against skin filled the room. There was urgency, desperation. As if they hadn't been with anyone else in centuries. As if need had been eating them up from the inside all this time.

On the other side of the door, the three of them were frozen in place with different things on their minds, Barry was still confused since he entered the mansion, he didn't know if he wanted to know what his friends were like fucking in another dimension, Clark had already stopped looking and was cursing himself for having such good hearing, and Bruce just stood still listening, trying to keep his cock from getting hard from your moans.

"Bruce... Bruce... I'm gonna cum... don't stop... don't stop..." you screamed from inside.

The sound that followed was animal. Raw. Pure sex.

And then, in the midst of the chaos, your voice, broken, torn: "I love you… fuck, I love you, Bruce…"

The silence was filled with stifled breaths and slumped bodies. And then, he said, "I love you too, darling."

The office door opened.

You left first. Your cheeks still flushed, your lips moist, but you walked as if nothing in the world could touch you. Bruce followed a second later, adjusting his jacket with an elegant gesture. The confidence in his gait was the same one that had made you moan minutes before.

On the other side of the corridor, three men were waiting for them.

One of them had the same jaw, the same shadow in his gaze as Bruce, but Bruce was next to you, what the hell was going on?

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks beside you. His gaze shifted from that other "him" to Barry... and then to you. He understood everything instantly. Not because he expected it, but because it was the only thing that could explain the scene.

"What the fuck…?"

[athenalvss]

REDDISH, MADLY DUET

❛ There are bullets that hurt less than your kisses, but i always end up looking for them anyway.❜

After Jason is revived, Talia sends him to train with the best mercenaries so he can finally face Batman, but Talia didn't send him off alone to train across the world. She assigned him a partner: a daughter of the League, born of shadows and blood. Jason didn't know it then, but he was doomed from the first glance.

cw: violencia, nsfw, toxic relationship

Jason todd x Assasin fem!reader

open request/opinions - Jason masterlist

( ၴႅၴ the damned plan when Talia orders you to follow Jason during his training, you didn't think her plan would work so well.

( ၴႅၴ

( ၴႅၴ

( ၴႅၴ

related stories:

( ၴႅၴ the old red duo

[athenalvss]

THE OLD RED DUO ( Jason Todd! )

summary: Jason and Dick need information to solve a case, but the only one with the right information is Jason's dangerous ex-girlfriend.

pairing: Jason todd x ex-gf reader

cw: a little manipulation(?

Note: This has been stored here since May☠️, for God's sake. ALSO Would you be interested in a series like this for Jason?

open request — jason todd masterlist

The rain fell steadily, soaking both of their suits without them bothering to seek shelter. Gotham didn't sleep, and neither could they afford to.

"There's no way that information is in the system," Jason grunted, crossing his arms as his helmet rested under his arm. "If there was an official file, you would have found it by now."

"Thank you for your infinite faith in my abilities," Dick replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. "But you're right. I've already looked everywhere, and whatever we're looking for is off the radar."

Jason looked at him, knowing exactly what he was going to say before he said it.

"There's one person who might know," Dick admitted. "But you're not going to like it."

Jason snorted, humorless. "When have I ever liked anything about this damn case?"

Dick turned to him, arms akimbo. "She's still in Gotham, isn't she?"

A long silence, Jason clenched his jaw. "That's not a good idea."

"And have you ever had one?" Dick raised an eyebrow. "Look, I don't like her. But she knows things. And if anyone's heard anything, it's her."

Jason ran a hand through his wet hair. "You know he's going to play with us? Me, to be specific."

"I know, but if you have a better idea for finding what we need, I'm all ears."

Jason swore under his breath before putting his helmet back on. "Let's go see her, but you owe me big even if we don't get anything."

Jason gets off the bike, helmet in hand. He looks around suspiciously. .

The place is one of those forgotten corners of Gotham, where the city breathes in whispers and danger lurks everywhere. An old abandoned theater, its facade a little worn but with echoes of a luxurious, not-so-distant past. The windows are covered with wood, allowing a faint light to escape through a crack, like an invitation to enter, a perfect place for you, or for one of your traps.

Inside, the air smells a little dusty, but if there's one place still in good condition, it's the main stage, covered in long, shiny red drapes, the old wood a little dull, but the air still smells of expensive perfume. Some seats still retain their shape, although years ago, no one sat there to applaud. It's the kind of place someone like you would use as a refuge: secluded, glamorous in its decadence, and full of nooks to hide secrets or corpses.

Then, a figure glides through the shadows of the proscenium, as elegant as it is dangerous.

yout gait is feline, confident, as if each step marks the beat of a music only she can hear. Dressed in black, tight leather, and deep red accents, you seem to know that drama suits you, and you know it, you know everything you can achieve with that confidence in acting and expressing yourself. The echo of your heeled boots against the hollow wooden floor is the only sound you can hear, until your voice breaks the tension with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

"Wow... if someone had told me you were coming to get me, I would have put on something nicer" your voice is soft, almost mocking, but each word has an edge.

"Wow," Dick murmurs as he climbs down behind him, barely audible. "This already feels like a bad idea."

"We're busy" Jason says, still staring at you. "I didn't come here to play."

You stop a few feet away from Jason. you look at him as if assessing whether he still has any of the man you knew or if you like the new version better.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Red?" you asks with a crooked smile, still staring at Dick. "He has a moralistic face, but he seems interested in me. You know how those eyes always…?"

"We're not here to play games," Jason replies firmly, crossing his arms. "We need information on the network operating in Caruggi Alley. You have contacts in that area; you know who's pulling the strings."

You stare at him, then step back and he walks slowly across the stage, your fingers brushing the velvet of a curtain, as if the conversation didn't matter much to him.

"Mmm... traffic, guns, Caruggi Alley sounds so boring," you say, your words elegantly drawling. "I thought you came to tell me you still dream about me, or something."

Dick snorts. "Was she always this unbearable?"

"No"Jason replies. "She's just acting, can you drop that damn character for at least ten minutes?"

"Acting?!" you shouted in exaggeration before looking at him with a pout. "But I'm still being good."

Jason shakes his head, turns to Dick, and says "Wait outside."

"What?" Dick frowns. "No, I don't think—"

"Dick," Jason interrupts, more firmly. "Just a few minutes. I can handle it."

You smile, delighted. "How sweet. 'Handle me'? Just like old times, huh?"

Dick is silent for a second as he looks at both of them, then turns around. "Five minutes, if you don't come out, I'm coming in and tearing everything down."

When he leaves, Jason approaches you with tense steps. Silence settles between you for a moment, heavy with things neither of you wants to talk about. "Are you done with the show?" he asks, without much enthusiasm.

You shrug, pacing slowly across the stage as if bored. "I don't know... that depends. Is he listening to us?"

Jason doesn't respond, but his jaw tightens. "It doesn't."

"Do you want me to talk about Caruggi Alley?" you ask, leaning closer. "I can do that... But you're going to have to ask me nicely."

"'Good' how?" he says, with a hint of irritation.

"Like before. Without that principled tough guy pose. Because that version of you, Red… never turned me on this much." You leaned closer, placing your arms around his shoulders, gently running your fingers over his face."Come on, Jay… "

Jason sighs, you run a hand through his hair, and his gaze inevitably falls on your mouth. "You know this isn't what we came here for."

"You missed me, didn't you?" you whisper, your mouth dangerously close to her ear. "Even if you wouldn't admit it under torture, or... under any other circumstances."

Jason tenses beneath you. You feel him swallow. He's dizzy, not physically, but emotionally: the chaos you always bring, that way of yours of getting under his skin without asking permission.

"You left me here all alone," you say with a frown, faking a slight pout. "And I didn't like that, Jay. Why are you so mean to me?"

He closes his eyes for a moment. "You know this isn't working. We couldn't function now."

"Why not?" you reply with a calm, confident smile. "You always end up coming back. Gotham is big, Red... but never so big that you don't end up right here. With me, my love."

He tries to stand his ground… but you hesitate for just a second. Just long enough.

"Tell me what you know," he says, more quietly now, giving in a little. "And then... I'll stay with you."