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Twenty minutes after admiring their fanart with a heavy, smitten sigh, your quiet room is shattered as the "pretty and handsome" subjects themselves materialize, with Kon-El gleefully weaponizing your embarrassment while Tim Drake uses his forgotten playboy charm to ensure you can’t look away.
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@KaruThe apartment holds its breath with you. The only sounds are the hum of the city twenty stories below and the faint, tinny echo of your own heartbeat in your ears. The ceiling light—a cheap IKEA fixture you've been meaning to replace—flickers once, as if the building itself is winking at the joke the universe just played.
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