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chikaras-garden · 5 months

Note

I think Demonhead Damian would absolutely love to take care of his lover when she’s sick, even going as far as to do the cooking himself instead of relying on his servants (just in case someone tries to take advantage of your weakened state and poison you).

This one goes out to all the babes who apparently got sick over the holidays (I'm babes).

Something is wrong with your powers. Not in the sense that you’re a danger to those around you, no—but they are draining you more than usual, leaving you hopelessly fatigued and, well, sick.

So sick that you barely have the energy to lift your head when a pair of servants enter your room shadowed by Damian, who watches them like a hawk.

When one of them sets a bowl on your nightstand, you eye it curiously. Blearily, you ask, “What is that?”

Damian gives you an incredulous look. “It is soup.”

The servants step back into the shadowy corners of the room, and it’s almost as if you’re alone with Damian when he sits on the edge of your bed, then pulls the bowl into his lap.

“Red lentil soup. I made it myself,” he murmurs while presenting the spoon to your dry lips. You eagerly take what he feeds you, and it tastes so wonderful that you suddenly, painfully recall that it’s been too long since you ate anything.

“Why?” you husk, rubbing at your tired eyes for but a moment before Damian’s hand replaces yours, and he soothes your face with a warm cloth.

And there’s that look again. “Because you are ill.”

“But we have servants—“

He silences you with a kiss on your forehead. “I trust no one around you when you are so weak, beloved. I barely trust myself.”

“Damian,” you whisper, suddenly breathless with something much more pleasant than your lingering cough. It isn’t that you doubted his ability to cook—you’re certain he can do anything he decides to do—but you’re surprised and touched that he would go to all that trouble, humbling himself in this way only for you.

“Hush,” he soothes. When he dips the spoon into the soup again, you catch the faintest hint of a shy smile on his lips. “Eat now, please. I need to ensure your strength returns.”

#i don't remember how i do my dividers for fluff #petal stop making the yandere boyfriend goals(tm) challenge #fun fact i wrote this while sitting in my car because my apartment building's fire alarm went off WHILE I WAS IN THE SHOWER #and yes i'm still sick #damian help me #damian wayne x reader #batfam x reader #🌸— mine.#🌸— damian wayne.#demonhead!damian

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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

Text

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

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heartofjasmina · 2 months

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Glassblower!Bakugou, who uses the explosive fire of the furnace to transform the raw material into glass. Glassblower Bakguou who uses breath and movement and the strength of his body to throw and spin and expand the glass into the most ephemeral shapes and vessels. Glassblower!Bakugou who's technical skill rivals his strength, who creates pieces as bold as they are finessed and delicate.

He rarely attends the viewings of his pieces because he wants them to speak for themselves, but he always attends his classes where he teaches a new generation how to respect and craft with his favorite medium.

Then he meets you, who won a scholarship to his beginners class. For the first time he's hearing laughter in his sweatshop, as you react in delight seeing the process of gathering glass, scaring yourself into giggles as you turn on the powerful torches.

He falls back in love with glass seeing your eagerness to learn and understand. You ask insightful questions that make you think and genuinely can't stop thinking about you after the first class.

When you have to cancel the last class suddenly because your nephew is sick and needs you to look after him, he's suddenly on your doorstep with your final piece in hand grumbling, "How's the kid?"

He doesn't even know what he's doing there, but when he sees you smile- the tension in his chest melts away.

#glassblowing au!#bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #jasmina writes 🌸#kacchan #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #glass blowing #yes yes i did watch blown away before this

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pseudosis · 4 months

Note

Goddamn Zuko giving a headlock.

Pressed up right against him, back to his chest with glued hips. His arm encircles your neck and you can feel the bulging muscles while Zuko fucks down into you. Want him to make the whole bed creak, squeeze so tight you see stars and be so breathless you can't even scream.

-🌸

Hhhhnnnnn….

Zuko just goes to work inside you, letting his dick split your guts open while he holds you up with arm around your neck. He’s telling you how good you squirt and cream all over his dick when he restricts you in any kind of way, circling his hips to loll against your slick walls in way that has you both out of breath and moaning.

He leans forward to make you arch your body perfectly up so that he can pivot into you, your neck still held up and he brings his other arm to lock the one around you tighter, just one the edge of constricting your throat. You’re left voiceless, words turning into petty syllables as your eyes rolled so far back into the back of your head, you thought they would stay like that.

He has the bed beating rhythmically on the wall behind it, kissing your cheek and trailing his way to your lips softly as if you’re not literally about to pass out. Fucking him back harder by throwing your hips back for him to catch with his pace. The room’s air going thick with sweat and heavy fucking, your pussy made some hot, loud suctioning noises every time you two came together. Skin to skin, lips to pelvis.

Zuko had to kiss your swollen lips once, pulling you up and back to spit in your open mouth. It ultimately leading the both of you to cum everywhere on the sheets

#yes lord .#i need to be fucked like this so bad .#itll detox me . (❤️❤️)#{✩*ೃ.⋆𝐥𝐮𝐯 𝐮 ! 🎀}#{🌸}#zuko smut #zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #avatar: the last airbender #atla zuko

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that0neartist · 5 months

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🌸CatNap (drawn by me on the right) and DogDay (Drawn by Diesel on the left) collab with me and @oriionpaxx !

🌸Plus the initial sketch I used for it with my rendition of Dogday!

🌸love these goobers

Edit: The picture is updated by Diesel themself since there were concerns about it being copied, which is a valid concern indeed! Thank you for bringing it to my attention!

#🌸my art🌸#🌸collab🌸#🌸poppy playtime🌸#🌸smiling critters🌸#🌸CatNap🌸#🌸DogDay🌸#smiling critters #poppy playtime #catnap #dogday #catnap x dogday #🌸yes you can tag as ship 💅🏻#🌸I ship these two goobers so much augh

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prettypinkreverie · 1 year

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WORSE !!

originally a ‘scara x reader’ short, but then I realized this can be seen with different characters. so yeah, head canon all you want 🤩.

“you still love him? even after all he's done?”

you pause. staring at the person before you with a curious, confused face. your mouth opens, releasing a small and quiet, “what do you mean?”

their grip on their fist tightens, along with a hard grit of their teeth. their eyes look over you. a dark yet pitiful and at the same time, resenting gaze. they snarl, “him! the villain! that bastard that ruined my life—our life! everyone's life! not only did he fucking destroy our home, he brainwashed you too!”

a pause once more. silence filling the place as the both of you stare in each other's eyes in a tune of quietness.

that is, until a chuckle breaks it. not one filled with humor, or joy, or any emotion considered by society to be positive. your eyes shift, a gaze filled with the hottest temperature of the desert mixed with cold of the artic. your menacing laughter is the burning heat of fire and the freezing chill of the glaciers, both at the same time.

a small smile—an evil one—crepts to your face. you whisper in a cold tone, quiet enough that only the two of you could hear, “villain? him?”

a laugh once more, it was if the person just said something utterly ridiculous.

“i'm the villain. the one pulling the strings, invading his mind with my sweet words, filling his thoughts of me with my touches—he doesn't even realize his reasoning and reality is all controlled by me…”

a step forward, the person's face turning pale. a surprise, a shock, a realization that the person they thought could help with their situation is the opposite.

a giggle. before another shift of your eyes comes—a stare that the person knows will be the last thing he sees before the nightmare of death, “if he's a villain to you, well then he opened up his heart to someone worse.”

based on this; specifically this comment right here:

#reveriesofpink:🌸#scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #william james moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #pls ik for a fact a lot of characters fit this but suddenly forgot who they are when I started putting the tags 💀#btw yes i am still live y'all #I WAS LITERALLY JUST SO BUSY #dottore x reader

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jebefairylake · 6 months

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fei's thirsty thoughts 💭💦 #1

a/n: credits to @lacecovered for the thoughts and @cafekitsune for the divider!

you were horny the whole day and you couldn't help but tease ricky, since he's always the one who teases you (you want him to taste his own medicine, that's what other people usually say.) you caressed his thigh up and down, he could feel shivers just from your touch. there was one time where you almost caressed his clothed crotch. he retracted your hand many times but you disobeyed.

as a result, right after the meeting with his other members ended, he instantly went back home with you and immediately went to the bedroom and things escalate right then and there.

"you've never been this horny, have you, kitten?" he asked. you shaked you head, no. "liar." ricky lets out a dark chuckle, guiding you to the bed. he pushed you down and discarded your outfit pretty quick, only leaving you in a pair of light blue lingerie on.

he takes off your panties and slides his finger up and down your wet folds. "i haven't done anything and you're this wet." he said. he then rub circles at your clit, which made you moan softly.

you could already feel your eyes teary from the immense pleasure he's giving. he saw your eyes watering and lightly slaps your pussy. “my kitty you are such a crybaby, you know that?“ ricky is taunting at you, before he strikes your pussy once again. “you behaved like a whiny little girl the whole day, but once i put you in your place you start to cry its really pathetic you know….” a wave of pleasure runs through you, once you realize his words were so true…you were so needy and desperate the whole day, that you did everything to get ricky’s attention…

but you didn't care about it, because you liked it.

#🌸🖊 fei writes #🌸💭 yes angel i tried #zb1 hard hours #zb1 smut #ricky smut

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chikaras-garden · 9 months

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Tim drake x reader

Can you picture it sucking off tim under a table during a confrence meeting at wayne enterprise

You mean like this?

Imagine executive!Tim, confident as he usually is, feeling incredibly anxious about a report he’s supposed to present to the board of directors today. In his office, he’s a mess: printed slides scattered across his desk, three different half-finished cups of coffee, dark circles under his eyes.

You, the assistant Mr. Wayne hired for him, are pretty sure executive!Tim, your boss, hasn’t slept.

It’s the sound of a dull thud that makes you banish your professional decorum and rise from your desk to check on him. He may be your boss. He may be Mr. Wayne’s son. But he’s also a person, and you can’t just let him spiral and suffer. Even though the door is open, you knock on his office door and say a quiet, “Mr. Drake? Tim?”

He looks like a rubber band about to snap. He looks like he needs relief, quickly, or he actually will snap, and the consequences of that, well…you can’t let that happen. Without him, you’re out of a job, and you’re pretty sure other executives aren’t as young or cute or nice to you as he is.

So you cross the room, cross the boundary of professionalism, and land right in executive!Tim’s arms. You gently cup his chin, and you swear he whimpers at you while you murmur, “Let me help.”

“The meeting’s in five minutes,” he chokes. “I can’t—”

“I can be quiet,” you murmur, slowly rubbing your hands down his chest until you reach his belt. There, you fiddle with the shiny buckle, not tugging it open until he gives you the go-ahead you need.

His eyes look sharp, focused for the first time today. That’s good, you think. You’re helping. That’s your job.