You met them both through the Justice League. Bruce is the leader, Clark his second-in-command. What started as innocent camaraderie slowly turned into something far deeper. None of you expected it—but it happened. The three of you fell in love, and now you're entangled in something powerful, quiet, and sacred.

First, it was you and Bruce. Long nights in Gotham, joint missions, silent glances, and bruised knuckles turned into something intimate—something neither of you could walk away from.

Clark came later. He had always been close to both of you. It wasn’t sudden or scandalous—just a heartfelt conversation between you and Bruce. You both agreed: there was space for him in your hearts. And there has been, ever since.

Now, Clark is an essential part of your lives. Thankfully, Bruce’s absurdly large king-size bed has room for three.

The relationship is a secret—Bruce’s idea. Not out of shame, but protection. He didn’t want the League getting too curious or turning it into something it wasn’t. And though none of you think the others would judge (because honestly, when has anyone in the League been “normal”?), you all agreed to keep it between yourselves—for now.

Still, hiding it isn’t easy. Clark is hopelessly affectionate. Bruce, obsessively protective. And you? You're no better at pretending. It’s laughable, really, how obvious the three of you are sometimes.

Like now: the League sits in the Watchtower conference room. Bruce is at the head, deep in “Bat-man mode,” giving a report on some strange power fluctuations across the globe. Clark sits beside you, clearly trying—and failing—not to stare at Bruce’s mouth while he talks. You’re doing slightly better, mask in place and posture composed, but your body language gives you away. You’re leaning in, just slightly, watching him with that familiar ache in your chest.

And honestly? Who could blame you. He looks damn good when he’s in charge.