#world: the unshakable bond

[sonic-au-collision]

SONIC AU COLLISION: ROUND 1

click to see full image

Sonic Murder Drones AU belongs to @silvers-starrway & @cherbearsz [link to masterlist]

The Unshakable Bond belongs to @floxy-offical & @the-sky-queen [link to au tag, x]

Explore each world below the cut!

Sonic Murder Drones AU:

MDAU follows the same basic plot points as Murder Drones just with the Sonic Cast put in for different characters. Sonic, a worker drone, yearns for freedom outside of the bunker and builds a weapon to take out the disassembly drones that have been terrorizing them for as long as he can remember. Nothing goes according to plan and Sonic ends up becoming friends with one of the disassembly drones, Serial Designation C. Having inherited a rogue piece of code called the Absolute Solver, Sonic together with C and eventually R, need to figure out a way to stop Nine from destroying the planet before the Solver completely takes over Sonic’s body.

The Unshakeable Bond:

This Au is where Scourge the hedgehog messes with the Master emerald and the Master emerald gives him a little brother(Who gets named Duke by Scourge) to set Scourge on a different path that Scourge never expected he would find himself going down and it doesn't help that Sonic has to wrangle in another brother, Wilder, a chaotic little hedgehog made from anarchy Beryl.

[t-u-i-t-c]

"You'll triumph someday, as long as you never yield. I'll take you on any time." "You never fail to piss me off, Geats."

[riomarks]

I really wish that percy would have been left in camp jupiter for long enough for it to have meant something to the story

[tomorrowscircle]

PINNED

TOA Canon [Blue Lions Professor at the Officers Academy]

Coming from the ruined timeline of the Future Past, Morgen served as Grima's loyal servant. Sent back in time to serve his will, she lost the majority of her memory in the process, especially the ones of her time with her master. Despite this, she still aims to become better than she may have once been. After a brief stint originally as a Blue Lions student, she returned to Plegia to further her studies. Now, she comes back to the Academy, this time as a professor, looking to pass on what she has learned in her time away, and perhaps learn some things herself.

ABOUT

INTERVIEW

Please kindly do not use small text! (post)

[rizzanon]

Imagine being the neglected daughter of Bruce Wayne. No matter how hard you tried, you were always a shadow in a house full of larger-than-life personalities. You trained until your muscles ached, went on as many patrols as you could, and pushed yourself far beyond your limits—anything to earn even a sliver of attention from your father or siblings. But it never worked.

They always seemed so caught up in their own lives, their own missions, their own struggles. Dick was the golden boy, your father’s favourite no doubt. Jason was the black sheep of the family, but everyone still cared abiut him. Tim was the genius strategist, very much like your father, someone who felt so out of reach for you. Damian was the prodigy heir, the blood son, as he liked to flaunt, and someone able to have a proper father-son bond with Bruce. Cassandra was the silent powerhouse who also had an unshakable bond with Bruce, and Duke? Duke was the bright light—the one who somehow fit into the family dynamic faster than you ever could.

And you? You didn’t fit anywhere. You were just there, occupying space, trying so desperately to carve a place for yourself in a family that didn’t seem to have room for you.

You told yourself it would get better. That one day, they’d see you. But that day never came.

By the time you were twenty, you’d long since lost yourself in the role of being “Bruce Wayne’s daughter.” You couldn’t even remember what you liked or what you wanted for yourself anymore. What’s worde was that you weren’t even acknowledged as Bruce Wayne’s daughter. You were a disgrace, the media and public not letting you forget about your “disgraceful” bloodline. Your mother had an affair with Bruce Wayne years ago, and the moment you were born, she just left you at the doorstep of the manor, and completely disappeared. You weren’t wanted by your mother, nor your father. Nor by anyone else. Yet, you still tried. Hoping that things would change. Things would be different. But then, one night, everything ended.

It was a routine patrol. You’d tracked a lead on a drug ring to a rundown warehouse. It should have been simple. But then the shootout started. You held your own as best as you could, but you weren’t fast enough. You weren’t strong enough.

As you lay there bleeding out, alone in the cold darkness of the alley, all you could think about were regrets.

You wished you hadn’t wasted so much of your life chasing the approval of a family that didn’t seem to care. You wished you hadn’t pushed away your friends—the ones who told you that you deserved better, who begged you to stop throwing yourself into something that was breaking you. You wished you’d never picked up a mask at all.

Crime-fighting wasn’t for you. You knew that deep down. You wanted to help people, yes, but you weren’t like your brothers and sister. You didn’t have their instincts, their skills, their drive. It was like everyone else was built for this life, as if it was etched into their very bones. But you weren’t like them. You were trying to fight battles you weren’t built for, all because you thought it would make them notice you.

And as the world faded, your final thought was this: If I could do it all over again, I’d leave. I’d move out the second I could. I’d erase every trace of (Name) Wayne and start over. I’d live for myself.

Then everything went dark.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the ceiling of your bedroom at Wayne Manor. You sat up, your heart pounding. The pain was gone, your wounds were gone—everything felt… normal. Too normal.

You looked down at yourself, noticing your hands were smaller, your frame slighter. Confused, you stumbled to the mirror across the room, and what you saw made your breath catch.

It was you. But younger. You couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

Your mind raced. Was this some kind of hallucination? A cruel trick? But then your gaze caught the date on your phone. It was four years ago.

You were sixteen again.

Should I write about this??

edit: yes, i think i’m gonna write this now, just need at least a few days to draft the storyline and see where i want to go with it 🫶

edit 2: yes, i’ve already started working on this , go check it out!! <3

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗢𝗛 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗧 ˢⁱˡᶜᵒ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Continuation: Arm's Length

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Shortfic. Rom! Soulmates AU. Silco dreads the words on his skin, and he finally meets the one the cause of it. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; A cute, kinda silly idea I had in mind for a while. May write more for other characters if people want!! I'm up for the task ^^

12.07.24 Masterlist

Soulmates—a bond admired and revered across the world. The concept of finding the one person destined for you, a lifelong partner who complements your very soul, was a dream cherished by many. In this world, the bond was marked by a simple yet extraordinary phenomenon: words.

Every individual was born with a unique phrase etched onto their wrist, a constant reminder of their connection. These words were not random; they were the first words their soulmate would ever say to them. For some, the inscription was poetic, filled with promise and mystery. For others, it was mundane or even amusing, hinting at the unpredictability of love.

But the reality of finding one's soulmate was far less romantic than the ideal. The world was vast, with countless cities, continents, and cultures. With billions of people scattered across nations, the odds of meeting one's soulmate were slim to impossible.

And yet, that rarity made the soulmate bond even more precious.

But Silco never believed he’d meet his soulmate. The concept itself felt foreign to him, a naive dream to have in Zaun, where survival always overshadowed sentimentality. And truthfully, he was quite alright with that. His life revolved around the chaos Zaun had to offer—where enemies lurked in every shadow, sharpening their knives for his back. He thrived on it, embraced it, because weakness was a luxury he could not afford.

Since Vander's death, Silco had been the undisputed leader of Zaun, a position he had fought tooth and claw to secure. It wasn’t just power he gained but a purpose, a vision for Zaun that burned brighter than any fleeting idea of love or destiny.

Soulmates were a distraction he couldn’t entertain. His identity was forged in blood and betrayal, and he wore his scars proudly—symbols of his resilience and unshakable will.

Loneliness wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. He wasn’t lonely. How could he be, when Jinx was by his side? His daughter, in every way that mattered, was the anchor in his life. She was his legacy, his greatest creation. She didn’t fill a void but rather defined his world, giving him a sense of connection that no partner or companion ever could. He would protect her with every ounce of strength he had, just as he would protect the dream he’d built for Zaun.

For Silco, the idea of a soulmate wasn’t something he lacked. It was something he chose to disregard entirely. He didn’t need anyone to complete him, he was already whole.

And besides that, the words imprinted on his left wrist were… concerning, to say the least. No, they weren’t poetic or mysterious like many praise. They weren’t heartfelt or clever, the kind of words one might cherish. Instead, they were crude. Embarrassing.

“OH SHIT.”

The phrase was bold and glaring, stamped in stark lettering that left no room for misinterpretation. It stood out against his skin like an insult, as though mocking his carefully curated composure. A curse, literally and figuratively, branded on him for all eternity (or until he meets his soulmate, which will never happen.)

He sighed every time he glanced at it, the sight filling him with equal exasperation and dread. What kind of person greeted their soulmate like that? It was undignified, the equivalent of tripping over one’s own feet. Worse, it reflected poorly on him. People might think he deserved it—that he was some unrefined brute who matched such crude first words.

He grumbled about it often, muttering under his breath as he covered his wrist with a sleeve or a glove.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in soulmates. The idea had its appeal, though he was reluctant to admit it. It wasn’t even that he feared meeting the person fate had paired him with. No, he dreaded the why. Why had destiny chosen those words for him? What kind of chaotic, uncouth individual was waiting out there, ready to burst into his life with such gracelessness?

He fancied himself a man of sophistication, a leader who carried himself with poise. Yes, his methods could be ruthless, but they were calculated. He wasn’t the rabid dog some made him out to be. He was polished and deliberate. Surely his soulmate—his destined match—should reflect that.

Yet here he was, cursed with the least dignified introduction imaginable. He almost wished he could meet them just to rid himself of the embarrassment, to confront this vulgarity head-on and put it behind him.

Silco tugged at his sleeve irritably as he walked through the crowded streets of Zaun. The undercity was alive tonight—buzzing with life, tension, and danger. He thrived in it, as he always did, but his mind was elsewhere. A meeting with one of his chem-barons had gone south earlier, leaving him more on edge than usual.

The night was damp, the air thick with the stench of polluted waters and burning fumes. He passed a narrow alley, barely sparing a glance at the shadowy figures loitering there, when he heard the unmistakable sound of something toppling over.

Crash!

Instinctively, he turned, narrowing his sharp eyes. A figure stumbled out from behind a pile of crates, a hand pressed to their side as they cursed under their breath. He tensed, ready for an ambush, but the person didn’t seem to notice him right away.

Then their gaze snapped to his, and they froze. Wide eyes met his mismatched ones, a flicker of panic flashing across their face.

“Oh.. shit.” They blurted, the words spilling out before they could stop themselves.

Silco froze.

It was as if the world had gone still around him, the sounds of Zaun fading into an eerie quiet. Those words. Those exact words. He stared at them, his heart pounding in a way it hadn’t in years.

You noticed his sudden stillness, your own heart racing as you realized what you’d said. The man in front of you wasn’t just any Zaunite. He was Silco. The Eye of Zaun. Ruthless, calculated, and someone you absolutely did not want to cross paths with.

But something in the way he was looking at you gave you pause. His eyes—cold and unrelenting moments ago—were now fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You had no idea why he was staring at you like that, and part of you didn’t want to find out.

“I didn’t mean—” you started, raising your hands defensively, but Silco interrupted.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low and sharp.

You froze, unsure whether to be more afraid of his reputation or the way your pulse was thrumming in your ears. He stepped closer, his boots clicking against the wet pavement, and you instinctively took a step back.

You really regretted being such a loudmouth. It wasn’t the first time your words had gotten you into trouble, but this? This was a whole new level of disaster. The phrase echoed in your mind like a taunt: "Oh shit." It was so casual, so thoughtless. And you said it to the worst person you could have.

You should have listened to your family when they told you—over and over again—to keep your crude mouth in check. They often joked about stuffing a rag in your mouth to save you from yourself, and honestly, you wished they had. Anything would have been better than blurting those words to Silco.

You glanced at him warily. The man before you—The Eye of Zaun, the kingpin of the undercity—was scrutinizing you with an expression you couldn’t read. His mismatched eyes seemed to pierce straight through you, and it took everything you had not to squirm under his gaze.

“What did you say?” he asked, his tone measured, but his eyes burned with something unspoken.

“I-I said ‘oh shit,’” you replied nervously, glancing toward the alley’s exit. Maybe you can run, maybe just hide for the rest of your life and hope your head won't be rolling before tomorrow. “Look, I didn’t mean to bother you, I’ll just—”

“No,” Silco cut in, his tall form approaching you, his voice firm as he stopped just a foot away from you. He tilted his head, studying you as if you were some kind of puzzle he didn’t want to solve. “Say it again.”

You blinked. You nervously swallowed. “What?”

“Say it,” he repeated, his patience clearly thinning.

“...Oh shit?” you offered hesitantly, feeling ridiculous. You thought he was going to pull out a gun right here and now. You could imagine the loud crack of a bullet hitting your skull already.

Silco exhaled sharply, his hand brushing against his sleeve as if to confirm something. He knew, of course. He didn’t need to look at the words burned into his wrist to be sure. But hearing you say it again—a crude, accidental greeting—cemented what he had avoided for years.

“Of all the cursed words,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his gaze snapped back to yours.

You frowned, your fear gradually giving way to confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Silco hesitated. For once, the master of Zaun seemed unsure, caught in the tangle of fate. He glanced at your wrist, the realization dawning on you in an instant.

“No way,” you whispered, pulling up your sleeve to reveal the small, delicate phrase etched onto your skin:

“Don’t move.”

The silence between you was heavy, laden with disbelief and the weight of inevitability.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said finally, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. You think you just might have hit your head on that fall of yours.

Silco’s lips twitched into something resembling a grimace. “Believe me, I’m as thrilled as you are.”

It wasn’t exactly the romantic encounter most people dreamed of, but as you stood there in the damp alley, staring at the man fate had apparently chosen for you, you couldn’t help but think: Of course, it had to happen like this.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[aventurineswife]

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for the reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

[kleopatra45]

Moon in the Signs of D9 Chart

Aries

"I want it all, and I want it now." Emotionally, you’re fiery, intense, and direct in the D9 chart. You approach relationships with boldness and expect your future spouse to keep up with your energy. You’re someone who thrives on excitement, challenges, and passion in marriage. When you feel emotionally fulfilled, you’re like a spark that lights up the room. However, you can also be impatient and impulsive, wanting your partner to meet your emotional needs immediately. Your future spouse is likely to be assertive, courageous, and someone who admires your enthusiasm. They’ll match your fire and keep the relationship exciting, though they may need to help balance your occasional outbursts. Together, you’ll learn that love is about balancing independence and unity.

Taurus

"Hold me, and never let go." Your emotions in the Navamsa chart are rooted in stability, sensuality, and comfort. You seek a future spouse who values commitment, loyalty, and a touch of luxury in life. In marriage, you’ll want to build a beautiful, serene home where both of you can thrive. Your love language revolves around the physical—cooking together, long hugs, or simply creating a life that feels abundant and grounded. Your spouse will likely have a calm and steady demeanor, someone who prioritizes consistency and harmony. However, they might need to work around your occasional stubbornness, as you can be resistant to change once you’re emotionally set in your ways. Together, your relationship will feel like a warm, unshakeable sanctuary. 

Gemini

"Talk to me, connect with me, know me." Emotionally, you’re all about mental stimulation in the D9 chart. You need communication, laughter, and constant learning in your marriage. Your future spouse will be someone who enjoys endless conversations, sharing ideas, and exploring new things with you. They may be witty, versatile, and youthful in their approach to life, always keeping things interesting. However, you might struggle with emotional restlessness, as you’re always looking for the next big idea or experience. Your spouse will need to help you anchor those wandering thoughts into something meaningful. Together, you’ll form a bond that feels playful, curious, and ever-evolving.

Cancer

"Wrap me in your love and protect my heart." In the Navamsa, your emotions run deep, intuitive, and nostalgic. You need a partner who makes you feel emotionally secure and understood without needing to explain yourself. Your future spouse will likely have a nurturing or protective energy, someone who prioritizes family and emotional connection. In marriage, you’ll want to create a loving, warm space where you both can heal and grow. However, your moods can be intense, and you may cling to the past when feeling hurt. Your spouse will need to help you navigate your emotional waves, offering patience and comfort. Together, your bond will feel like a timeless love story, built on mutual care and devotion. 

Leo

"Show me I’m your world, and I’ll make you mine." In the D9 chart, your emotions are grand, warm, and magnetic. You seek a future spouse who admires you wholeheartedly and isn’t afraid to express their love. You thrive on attention, loyalty, and affection, and you’ll return it tenfold when you feel adored. Your spouse will likely have a strong personality or a creative streak, someone who values self-expression and isn’t afraid to shine by your side. However, you may struggle with emotional pride, finding it hard to admit when you’re hurt or in need. Together, you’ll create a love that feels larger than life, built on mutual admiration, passion, and celebration of each other.

Virgo

"Love me in the little things, the quiet moments." Emotionally, you’re practical, analytical, and deeply caring in the Navamsa. You approach marriage as a partnership where love is shown through actions, not just words. You need a future spouse who pays attention to the details, someone who understands your desire for order and harmony. Your spouse is likely to be intelligent, hardworking, and supportive, someone who grounds you emotionally while appreciating your thoughtful nature. However, you can be overly critical of yourself or your partner, which might create unnecessary tension. Together, you’ll learn the beauty of imperfection and create a love that is calm, steady, and deeply fulfilling. 

Libra

"Let’s create something beautiful together." In the D9 chart, your emotions are balanced, harmonious, and relationship-focused. You thrive on partnerships where both give and receive equally. Your future spouse will likely be charming, diplomatic, and someone who values fairness and aesthetic beauty. Together, you’ll strive to create a marriage that feels like a romantic dance, full of mutual respect and shared dreams. However, you might struggle with indecisiveness or suppressing your feelings to keep the peace. Your spouse will need to encourage open dialogue and help you feel safe expressing your true emotions. Together, your love will feel like a perfectly crafted masterpiece. 

Scorpio

"I want your soul, not just your heart." Emotionally, you’re intense, transformative, and deeply connected in the Navamsa. Marriage, for you, is about profound emotional intimacy and growth. Your future spouse will be someone who isn’t afraid of your depth and can handle your emotional storms. They’re likely to be passionate, loyal, and someone who understands the importance of emotional vulnerability. However, you may wrestle with trust issues or fear of betrayal, which can lead to emotional intensity. Together, your love will be magnetic, transformative, and a journey of discovering the hidden depths of each other’s souls.

Sagittarius

"Love is freedom, adventure, and endless discovery." In the Navamsa, your emotions are adventurous, optimistic, and philosophical. You need a future spouse who shares your love for growth, exploration, and big ideas. They’ll likely be someone who values freedom within the relationship, someone who’s as eager as you to explore life’s mysteries. In marriage, you’ll bond over shared adventures and deep conversations about life, but you might struggle with restlessness or a fear of being tied down. Your spouse will need to ground you while still encouraging your free spirit. Together, your love will feel like an exhilarating journey into the unknown.

Capricorn

"Love is built brick by brick." Emotionally, you’re serious, reserved, and goal-oriented in the Navamsa. You seek a future spouse who values responsibility, ambition, and long-term commitment. They’re likely to be someone who shares your drive for stability and success, helping you build a life that feels secure and accomplished. While you may struggle with expressing vulnerability, your spouse will help you open up emotionally over time. Together, you’ll create a partnership that feels unshakable, where love grows stronger with every challenge you face. 

Aquarius

"Love me for my mind and my dreams." Emotionally, you’re unconventional, visionary, and a bit detached in the Navamsa. You crave a relationship that feels unique, where you and your future spouse can explore ideas and change the world together. Your spouse will likely be open-minded, progressive, and someone who values intellectual connection. While you may struggle with emotional intimacy at times, your spouse will help you embrace your feelings while respecting your need for freedom. Together, your love will feel like a partnership of equals, focused on growth and shared ideals. 

Pisces

"Let’s lose ourselves in love." Emotionally, you’re dreamy, compassionate, and deeply sensitive in the D9 chart. You seek a future spouse who understands your emotional depth and shares your romantic, almost otherworldly vision of love. They’re likely to be someone intuitive, gentle, and deeply connected to their inner world. In marriage, you’ll create a spiritual bond that feels transcendent, but you may struggle with emotional boundaries or feeling overwhelmed. Your spouse will need to help you stay grounded while cherishing your beautiful imagination. Together, your love will feel like a timeless fairytale.

©️kleopatra45

[flwrkid14]

Eternal Bonds: Tim and Danny’s Infinite Realms Marriage

In the Infinite Realms, marriage is an unparalleled commitment. Unlike the mortal world, where love can be fleeting and easily undone, marriage in the Realms is something far more sacred. It’s not just about vows or ceremonies—it’s about merging souls, creating a bond that not even the vast stretches of time can sever. The very idea of marriage in the Realms is rare, almost mythical, because it requires two beings to love each other so profoundly that they’re willing to bind their very existence to one another.

For the ghosts and entities that reside in this realm, eternity isn’t just a poetic idea—it’s a reality. Time is meaningless when you’re no longer alive, when your very essence is bound to the afterlife. And because of this, relationships are viewed through a different lens. There’s no such thing as divorce, no “time apart.” Once a couple is bound, their souls are intertwined forever. To dedicate your entire being—past, present, and future—to another means accepting that their joys, sorrows, triumphs, and failures will be yours too. It’s a partnership where breaking the bond is simply impossible.

It’s why marriage is such a rare occurrence in the Realms. The ghosts, who have already lived one life and often seen the frailty of mortal promises, don’t enter into this kind of bond lightly. It’s only for the strongest of loves, for the most steadfast of commitments. Because once you marry in the Infinite Realms, that bond holds through eternity itself.

And yet, despite the gravity of it all, Tim and Danny find themselves willing to make that very commitment. Tim, a mortal tied to a world where things end, where nothing lasts forever, steps into the unknown. His love for Danny is so deep, so unshakable, that he agrees to a traditional Infinite Realms marriage. He knows full well the weight of it—he’s not just vowing to love Danny in this life, but in every life after. In swearing to this bond, Tim is offering his entire being to Danny, for now and all of eternity.

For Danny, this choice means even more. As a halfa, he exists between two worlds, knowing both the mortality of the living and the permanence of the ghostly afterlife. His love for Tim is powerful enough that he’s willing to make this eternal commitment, knowing that there’s no one else in any world—mortal, ghostly, or beyond—he would rather be tied to. For Danny, the bond is as natural as breathing. It’s a connection that deepens their relationship in a way that transcends the limitations of their two worlds.

Their marriage isn’t just a declaration of love—it’s a merging of souls, a binding that makes them two parts of the same whole. It overwhelms them with the sense of safety and belonging that they’ve both craved in their lives. In each other, they find the kind of love that doesn’t just endure life’s difficulties but thrives beyond them. Their bond ties them together forever in a way that no one else could understand, but to Tim and Danny, it’s everything.

They are each other’s home. And in the Infinite Realms, there is no greater honor, no stronger connection, than to be bound by love for all of eternity.

[sonic-au-collision]

SONIC AU COLLISION: WORLD MAP [VERSION 1]

(aka the Round 1 Bracket)

Welcome aboard as we travel across the multiverse in our very first AU Collision. (Disclaimer: No AUs were harmed in the colliding of these worlds /silly). I cannot thank you all enough for submitting an AU, spreading the world, and overall just joining in for the fun.

Reminder: The deadline for any changes to the image, description, etc. will be Friday, November 15, at 7 PM PST

Polls will be released on Sunday, November 17, at 5 AM PST

Each AU and their respective creators are listed below the cut. A closer look at the bracket will also be pictured below.

LEFT SIDE:

RECOIL by @transzsonix & @lazydayslivin VS Broken Illusions AU by @nb-hedgewolf

Neo Badnik Empire by @midnightbadnik VS Time Twins AU by @libelelle

Imposter Swap AU by @sonlc & @transgendermilesprower VS Delirium!AU by @hunniegl4zed

Sonic HSR AU by @fleetwaydarksonic VS Mechanical Error by @chipistotallysane

The Lost Descent by @novurxge VS Lost and Found by @midnightshard06

Sonic Re:Scale by @taffydragondraws VS Vampire AU by @kingprinceleo

Chuck's Pizzareia AU by @majesticn3wt VS Accidentally Organicized AU by @lunaledragonet

Sonic Murder Drones AU by @silvers-starrway & @cherbearsz VS The Unshakable Bond by @floxy-offical & @the-sky-queen

No Strings Attached by @nostringsattachedau VS Infested by @flightyalrighty

The Kelpie: A Folklore AU by @scrunglepaws VS Resurrected AU by @superscourge

Cyborg Cream AU by @averiesmiles VS Manufactured Malice AU by @pretzlforpresident

Silver's Parent AU by @fleetway1900 VS Light and Shadow by @sparksssss

Live & Learn AU by @head---ache VS Dadpio AU by @retrocandyfloss

Interstellar AU by @interstellar-au VS Hedgehog University by @hedgehog-university-au

Monsters vs Aliens by @weirdozjunkary VS The Legend of Blaze by @girlsonic

Corrupted AU by @wereh0gz VS Enchanted by @sparkles-rule-4eva

RIGHT SIDE:

Chilidog Vendor Adventures by @i-am-zeledoxus VS Crystal Eyes (Crystallize) AU by @nomx2chomp

Sonic Icebound by @sonic-wildfire VS Dark Boom by @teamxdark

SASS Fusion AU by @mstormcloud VS Sonic Ghost Hunters AU by @sharks3ye

Heart of Chaos by @hyper-cryptic VS Flowers In Bloom by @emioliravioli

Shadow Barbie AU by @curetapwater VS Descendants by @a-dream-journalist

Starry by @cometstarrysonic VS Turning Tides by @lightninghikaru

Bioswap by @finalshockdown VS Egghogs AU by @themetalvirus

Life Series AU by @karma-creations VS Fullmetal Alchemist AU by @halloweencatsart

Sonic Cowboy AU by @napstabl00k VS Triple Stars by @triple-starsss

Sol Sonic by @kittydoremi VS Three Moons AU by @eclipsed-jester

Sonic Freak Show by @estellardreams VS Slumbering Wage by @yu-melon

We Have The Sky by @niko-jpeg VS Black Arms Sonic Eclipse Version by @cattyanon

Sidekick Sonic AU by @raihanijulie VS Siren's Call AU by @hevs-dreamworld

Inkwell AU by @xx-disco-inferno-xx VS Robotnik Manor by @taylanix

Lacersha AU by @heirorage VS Sonic: The Bad Guys by @thefakehedgehogaroundhere & KitsunamiFennec

Whispering Flames by @askmistaketalesurgesans VS The Chaos Project by @starzdeath

ignore the random lines <3

[zyhkoo]

☆ Birds of a feather

angst, jason x gn!reader, ‘doll’ being used

Jason can’t love you the way you do.

a/n: hi everyone! my friend help me with this one, give a round of applause to her! i shall do my requests soon, i’m just busy.

You loved Jason, the two of you have been glued to the hip for who knows when. You have been there since he was still Robin, and now as Red Hood. Your bond was unparalleled, a friendship strong enough to withstand any storm. The kind of connection one only dreams of finding.

Everyone who knew the two of you was acutely aware of your unshakeable bond. It was an almost tangible presence, as if the two of you were tethered together by an invisible force. You were rarely ever seen without the other, so much so that your names were often mentioned in the same breath.

Jason's emotional struggles with romance were a reality that you had come to accept. Despite the deep connection the two of you shared, he was plagued by an internal turmoil that made the prospect of a romantic relationship unattainable for him.

You, for your part, had come to understand and accept this aspect of his nature, recognizing that the bond between the two of you was not defined by romantic love, but by a deep, unwavering loyalty and friendship.

You longed for the comfort of knowing that Jason would always be by your side, even in the face of death itself. The thought of him staying with you until you were laid in the grave, dead and buried, and carried away in a casket, brought an intense sense of security and comfort. If Jason ever decided to leave, you knew that you wouldn't be far behind. It was always him for you, and there was nothing that could change that.

Jason, too, was acutely aware of your unwavering loyalty to him. Knowing that you would follow him to the ends of the earth, no matter what hardships or trials he faced. It was a knowledge that weighed heavily on him, knowing that your fate was intertwined with his own.

Your unshakeable devotion stirred within him a complex mix of emotions- pride in your loyalty, coupled with a pang of guilt. Pride because he knew you would always stick by his side, no matter the consequences.

Jason was acutely aware of how much your unrequited feelings for him were causing you pain. Despite his own internal struggles with romance, he recognized that your love for him was deep and unwavering. He knew how much it hurt you for him to not be able to return your romantic feelings, and he felt immense guilt for causing you such pain.

He often struggled with the knowledge that he could never give you what you desired the most from him, and this realization weighed heavily on his heart. It pained him to know that he could never fulfill the romantic hopes and dreams of the one person who meant the world to him.

The two of you were in a bookstore, surrounded by stacks of leather-bound volumes and the scent of aged paper. Jason was the one who introduced you to the world of books. He led you through the labyrinthine shelves, his fingers brushing against the spines of the books with a reverence that spoke of his deep connection to the written word. The two of you shared a comfortable silence, both finding solace in the pages that surrounded you.

You took several books on the shelves, placing them in the small shopping carts that they provided. “I got enough for the whole summer,” you said, turning to him. “What about you?” Jason shrugged and picked up a few books to add to the cart, “I’m not far behind.”

He picks up a book, it was about a loyal man who reunited with his dead wife. He stood there for a moment, holding the book in his hand and staring at the cover. This was a tale that typically ended on a happy note.

But his thoughts lingered on a different kind of ending, one that didn't necessarily have a happy ending. He thought about the two of you, your unwavering loyalty and how despite your devotion, there wasn't the same romantic element present. You noticed the melancholy expression that crossed his face, and you could sense that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

You approached him, and gently asked, "Is there something on your mind?”

He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he averted his gaze.

“It’s nothing, doll.” he responded, his voice trailing off as he absently flipped through the pages of the book in his hands.

You shrugged, not wanting to press him too much. You knew that Jason often preferred to keep his emotions and thoughts close to his chest, and trying to get him to open up could sometimes feel like pulling teeth. You busied yourself with the other books in the cart, trying to give him a moment to work through whatever was troubling him.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at his apartment, as he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, he felt a pang of unease in his chest. He needed to discuss something important with you.

“So, what are we doing? Movie night? Mario kart?” you said with a smile. Jason forced a smile in response, the tension in his chest tightening further. "Actually," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Something important."

A pit formed in your stomach, talk about what exactly? You placed your books down on the coffee table and looked back at his gaze. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jason took a deep breath before speaking again. "I've been having somethin’ lately, doll." he said, his voice quieter now. "About our friendship."

Your heart sank a little at his words, your mind immediately jumping to worst-case scenarios. He doesn't want to be friends anymore, you thought to yourself. He's pulling away, getting distant. Was he going to say what you were dreading to hear?

Jason noticed the look on your face and quickly spoke up again. "It's not anything bad," he hurried to reassure you. "I've been goin’ through some stuff. And I think we need to talk about where we stand." You relaxed slightly at his words, albeit a bit puzzled. You looked at him questioningly, silently encouraging him to continue.

"Our friendship is... important to me, doll." he sighed, meeting your gaze. "You're the most important person in my life. But I can't jus’ ignore fact that..." He paused, his sentence hanging in the air. Your mind raced with possibilities, trying to decipher what he was trying to say. You could feel the tension in the air, and your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I know how you feel about me," he said, "I know you want more."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. He knew. He had been aware this whole time, and he had said nothing. Your mind raced, a million thoughts and emotions swirling within you.

"I want to be honest with you," he continued, "And I don't want to hurt you. But I can't give you what you want. I can't give you that kind of love. It’s not something I can do."

Your heart ached at his words, the weight of them hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had hoped, deep down, that maybe he would reciprocate your feelings. But now, the reality was crushing your heart into pieces.

Jason's expression was one of guilt and remorse. "It hurts me too," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "Seeing you wanting something from me that I can't give. It's like a constant knife in my chest, knowing that I can't make you happy the way you deserve." You held his hand “It’s okay,” you forced a smile “It’s okay if you don’t. My friendship with you, it's very important.”

Jason's grip on your hand tightened slightly. "You say that, but I know it's not true," he said, "I see the way you look at me doll, the way you longingly touch my hand or lean in closer. It's not just friendship for you, and deep down, we both know it."

Your heart clenched at his words. He was right, you couldn't deny it. But you didn't want to push him away or make him feel guilty for something he couldn't control. So, you just smiled again. "It's really okay," you repeated, trying to sound more convincing this time. "We'll... we'll make it work, right? Just us, as friends."

He knew that you were putting on a brave front for him, trying to downplay your own feelings in order to salvage the friendship. He wanted to say more, to try to explain the reasons behind his inability to reciprocate your feelings. But he knew that it would only make matters worse. So, he just squeezed your hand tighter, "Sure doll," he said softly. "Just us, as friends."

You softly chuckled “Doll,” you repeated “You never stopped calling me that.” Jason forced a smile, his heart aching at the familiarity of the nickname. It was one of the many reminders of your closeness, a testament to the deep bond you shared.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," he said. The irony of the nickname suddenly weighed heavily on him. Doll was a term of endearment, a term that typically invoked feelings of love. And yet here he was, the person who had never been able to feel those things for you, calling ypu ‘doll.’

"I probably should stop callin’ you that," he said quietly. "No," you said quickly, not wanting to cause more pain than either of you were already experiencing. "I like it. It's... comforting, coming from you."

"If you're sure," he said quietly. You smiled softly, trying to reassure him that it was genuinely alright. "Yeah, I'm sure," you said, your voice full of genuine affection. "It's our thing, right? Don't overthink it."

He wanted to believe that things could continue as they were between the two of you, that he could still hold onto the one person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. "Okay, doll," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "If that's what you want. We'll keep it our thing."

When you come back home, you quietly weep. You don't know what you’re crying for.

"I don’t think I could love him more..." you whispered to yourself between sobs. The depth of your feelings for him was overwhelming, but the fact that he didn't feel the same way left you feeling empty and defeated.

Your mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts. Part of you wanted to keep the relationship as it was, grateful for the intimacy and companionship you shared. Another part of you wrestled with the frustration and pain of a one-sided love. Each tear that fell felt like a small piece of your heart breaking, but you couldn't bring yourself to walk away. Despite the pain, Jason meant the world to you, and the thought of losing him was unbearable.

🦢 hello guys? did you cry? i didn’t haha, please like and reblog! discord server.

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarchs + Daughters

My perception of how each Primarch would behave when nosediving into parenthood if they had daughters. Enjoy!

I wanna personally thank @moodymisty because a great deal of their works inspired this piece.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Lion El’jonson

The embodiment of 'tough love' made man. Having a daughter doesn’t do much to soften this guy… or at least that’s what others believe. The Dark Angels Legion are probably the only ones aware of the small gestures the Primarch often gives to his little girl in the safety that privacy offers. Where Lion lacks words of compassionate and parental love, he appropriately makes up for it with actions. He isn’t one to go over the top and prefers to give modest gifts to his daughter as the last thing the man wants is to raise a spoiled brat. Father-daughter bonding time can be summarized with strenuous training using the sword. This man will not let his precious Princess go through life without learning how to protect herself, even if he has made an oath to forever shield her too.

Fulgrim

The complete antithesis of Lion. Where this man views the Emperor as the perfection anyone should strive to reach, his beautiful daughter comes close to the second place in fulfilling that ideal. There’s a big fat chance that he teared up a little when his little gem called him Papa for the first time, but managed to wear his ever unshakable mask because he absolutely refuses to break character even in private. Has the mistaken notion that his baby is a blank canvas ready to be painted to its fullest potential; aka, molding her to what HE wants and expects of her. Fulgrim probably spoils her rotten but only through conditions that she must follow, as the Primarch understands the importance of fighting and earning for what you wish to obtain. He makes sure that any of his gene-sons are in her company as he refuses to let even a single scratch happen to his little girl. Honestly, a grown-up version of Fulgrim’s child has the chances to go both opposites of the spectrum with no in betweens: A shy aristocratic lady who is unable to speak her own mind or a completely haughty, sharp and manipulative noble woman. Too much to unpack there, yo.

Perturabo

(Slaps this bastard's head loudly) This bad boy can fit so much family trauma in it! Okay no but seriously, there’s a good reason why so many people agree that this bitch has a thing for gilded cages and all the fucked up poetry that comes with it. The good ol’ classic Greek tragedy of Medea. Perturabo may have big and insane expectations for his gene-sons but when it comes to having a daughter? The apple of his eyes. The sunshine of his life. For this Primarch, his little princess is the only living thing in the entire universe that loves him genuinely and unconditionally, making his love the equivalent of a child crushing a bird between his hands. While still easy to anger and with a resting-bitch face, he is incredibly tame and careful with his girl; always making sure that she is well versed in all kinds of science and engineering that could easily label her as a genius (but we all know how stressful can be to try and live up to big expectations). Most of his Legion finds the child either an annoyance or don’t even care enough beyond the factual point of her being the child of their mighty Primarch, beyond that? This poor girl is probably the loneliest child to ever grace the world. Remember that I referred to this like the Tragedy of Medea? Yeah…

Jaghatai Khan

Probably one of the few best papa-tier out there. This man will see his little daughter and think the only thing a good parent should do: To love and guide. He’ll be not afraid to say “I love you” to his baby girl no matter where they are, but he’ll know when to be stern and wise so she grows to be a fine and humble woman. Honestly, this guy would learn how to make a sling just for the single purpose of having his precious princess close while also being excited to teach her how to ride on a horse like he did in his childhood. The thing that makes this dude the best in this list is that if his daughter ever expresses to follow a different path in life like becoming a remembrancer or anything that doesn’t involve the Imperium, this Chad of a man will look deep into her eyes and tell her that he’ll support her no matter what. The only thing he asks is that she stays in contact as he’ll miss her terribly. Kudos to him, fr.

Leman Russ

Another one for the ‘tough love’ guys list, yo! On his defense! Hear me out… in his defense, this guy was literally raised first by Fenrisian wolves before even knowing what a proper bath entailed, so of course he’ll sometimes be a bit too much on his poor little baby girl. Roughhousing was his best first approach to teach her how to fight, trying to make his little pup have some proper backbone worthy of being called the child of a Primarch. Sometimes he’ll get carried away (either with words or actions) and is in those moments when Leman would learn what genuine and heavy guilt feels like; a very alien emotion for someone as brutal and fierce as he is. There’s no worse feeling than knowing that you are the reason behind your daughter’s tears. No one would ever say it out loud, but the way this giant of a man apologizes is by slowly and silently hugging his little girl while pouting until she hugs him back. He may suck at expressing verbally his love towards his baby, but actions are his best way to communicate and this is something his daughter eventually learns and accepts from him. Forgot to add that the entire Space Wolves Legion are not only suffocatingly protective of their Primarch’s child, but everyone takes turns when she asks them for piggy-rides or let her braid their hair.

Rogal Dorn

I don’t wanna be too mean to this poor man but lord have some mercy, trying to squeeze any emotion that doesn’t range to watching paint dry from this damn guy is already a miracle on its own. He’s probably the kind of dude that’ll leave his poor daughter in the care of his astartes and serfs while he works. Workaholic in bold, yo. It literally will take watching his poor little princess cry her eyes out for him to attempt some bonding time but man he just sucks at trying not to have a stick up his ass (Again, I’m not trying to be mean but god this is painful). This is the kind of man, besides Guilliman, that will search high and low for some paternity books to help him. At the end this father-daughter relationship can be salvageable by having a heart to heart between them both and even then, is the poor girl the one that gives more than she receives. Honestly, any daughter from Dorn has the patience of a saint. Besides this Primarch's ineptitude to properly communicate his feelings, everything else doesn’t change the fact that he loves his little princess and will do anything to make her as happy as possible so he gets some brownie points for the try.

I'll later write the second and third part of this, I swear <333

[geneviveleocardius]

daemon targaryen headcanons

you can’t expect this to not be incest, he loves valyrian women.

daemon’s love for you is as wild and unpredictable as he is. he’s utterly devoted to you but in his own intense, messy way. he’s the type to show up unannounced at your chambers after weeks away, bruised from a fight, grinning like the devil, and saying, “missed me, cousin? i’ve been miserable without you.”

daemon loves to push your buttons just to see you riled up. he’ll call you “too proper for me” or “the older, wiser Targaryen” with a sly grin, always testing how far he can go. when you snap back with wit, he just laughs, eyes burning with pride—he loves your fire.

daemon is fiercely protective, though he disguises it with his usual nonchalance. anyone who dares look at you the wrong way finds themselves on the receiving end of his sword—or worse, his cunning tongue. he’ll casually say things like, “no one touches what’s mine, princess. not without paying the price.”

fights between you two are inevitable—fiery and loud, full of sharp words and broken decor. but daemon never lets you stay angry for long. he’ll find you after, pulling you close with rough hands and murmuring in that low, dangerous voice, “you can hate me all you want, but you’ll always be mine. and gods help me, i’ll always be yours.”

daemon doesn’t do gentle romance; his love is grand, reckless, and overwhelming. one day he’s gifting you an outrageously extravagant necklace, the next he’s dragging you onto his dragon for a flight across the realm because he “needed to see the way you look under the stars.”

daemon is physical in his affection. his hands are always on you—gripping your waist, tugging you closer, tracing the curve of your jaw. it’s both possessive and reverent, like he’s reminding himself you’re real. his favorite place to rest his hand? the small of your back, a silent claim for the world to see.

daemon is a master of words when he wants to be. his compliments are bold, whispered in your ear with a grin: “you’re wasted in this world, cousin—too beautiful, too cunning. you belong by my side, where no one can touch you.”

as rough and chaotic as he is, daemon has a side of him that no one else sees. in the quiet moments, when it’s just you and him, he’s softer. he’ll press his forehead against yours, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he admits, “you steady me, even when you drive me mad.”

daemon does not share. seeing another man even speak to you sets his blood boiling. he’ll pull you into his arms without hesitation, looking the man in the eye as he says, “is there something you need, or do you just enjoy wasting the princess time?”

daemon loves that you challenge him. you’re one of the few who can outwit him, and he finds it maddeningly attractive. he’ll watch you during conversations with others, a smug smile on his face, before leaning in to whisper, “you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger. remind me why you chose me again?”

being with daemon means accepting chaos. he’ll pull you onto caraxes without warning, taking you soaring into the skies at terrifying speeds just to see you laugh. he turns back to grin at you, shouting over the wind, “don’t let go, cousin—though I’ll catch you if you fall.”

you’ve known daemon since you were children, and that bond runs deep. no matter how much chaos he brings into your life, there’s an unshakable trust between you two. he may be the rogue prince to others, but to you, he’s simply daemon—the man who loves you with all his twisted heart.

despite his roughness, daemon’s arms are the safest place you know. whether it’s after a fight or in the dead of night, he holds you like you’re his anchor. his voice is quiet as he murmurs against your hair, “you’re everything to me. don’t ever forget that.” in valyrian.

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗔𝗥𝗠'𝗦 𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗧𝗛 ˢⁱˡᶜᵒ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Previous: Oh Shit

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Rom! Soulmates AU. Insight with your dynamic with Silco, your unlikely soulmate. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; Unexpectedly really liked by many.. so here's a part two! This one explores a bit more of your dynamic. Will have more parts with you two getting closer if people want! PS. Posts are also slowing down due to finals.

12.10.24 Masterlist

Your soulmate being the kingpin of Zaun? It was the last thing you’d ever expect. Out of the billions of people in the world, fate had tied you to him. The Eye of Zaun. The man whispered about in fear and reverence across the undercity. The mere thought was enough to make your head spin.

You often wondered how you ended up here, standing at the entrance of a world you had no business being part of. One moment, you were navigating the gritty streets of Zaun, trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself. The next, you were tethered to one of the most dangerous figures in the city.

Since the fateful moment you exchanged words, your life had been flipped belly up. Silco—your… soulmate—had insisted you stay by his side. It wasn’t a request. It was a command, one delivered with the same authority that made lesser men crumble.

At first, you were reluctant. Terrified, even. You wanted no part of his life, knowing full well the danger and depravity that came with it. Yet, when faced with the alternative—remaining vulnerable and exposed in a city teeming with threats—you reluctantly agreed. Not because you trusted him, but because you didn’t trust anyone else. You knew that if word got out about your connection to Silco, your head would have a price on it by sunrise.

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he resented your very presence. Soulmates or not, it was clear that Silco didn’t want you here. He didn’t need you. To him, your bond wasn’t a blessing; it was an inconvenience.

He treated your connection as a mere obstacle, something to be tolerated rather than cherished. While you stayed in his line of sight, he hardly acknowledged you unless absolutely necessary (which was slim to never). Conversations were curt, directives delivered without room for discussion.

You were certain he saw you as an object—something fate had saddled him with. An obligation to manage, a liability to his empire of power.

He's discovered the end of the rope that tied you to him and now he's done with it.

And in some ways, you couldn’t blame him. He was a man with a singular vision, a relentless drive to shape Zaun’s future. In his world, attachments were a weakness. Trust was a currency he didn’t spend lightly. And you? You were the unwelcome variable in his otherwise carefully calculated plans.

He kept you close. Too close.

Silco’s insistence on your presence was suffocating. You could feel the atmosphere and his intentions, it wasn’t out of affection—there was no warmth in the way he spoke to you or the sharp glances he threw your way when you stepped even slightly out of line.

What unsettled you most was the secrecy. Despite your proximity to him, he hadn’t introduced you to anyone—not his workers, not his chem-barons, not even the bartenders at The Last Drop, where his office was directly above, where he conducts his business.

The only person you’d made any sort of contact with was Sevika, his right hand and infamous powerhouse. You’d seen her often enough to recognize her effortlessly intimidating presence, the way she carried herself with confidence was all from countless battles won. Sevika wasn’t someone to cross, not unless you had a death wish.

Her reputation preceded her: a woman known for getting tasks done with brutal efficiency and unapologetic force. The whispers about her around Zaun painted her as unshakable, her loyalty to Silco as steadfast as her punches were devastating.

And you? You were thoroughly intimidated.

Sevika never spoke to you. Not a word about your sudden and constant presence at Silco’s side. Not about the obvious tension hanging in the air whenever she entered the same room. She didn’t even spare you a questioning glance. If she had thoughts about the situation—or about you—she kept them buried beneath her cold exterior.

Whenever she passed you, her gaze remained straight ahead, her indifference as sharp as ever. She didn’t so much as glance in your direction, as though acknowledging you might disrupt some delicate, unspoken balance.

At first, her silence was almost a relief. You weren’t sure what you would have said if she’d confronted you, weren’t sure if you could withstand the force of her scrutiny. But over time, her indifference began to grate on you. You couldn’t decide what was worse—the way Silco scrutinized you like a puzzle he couldn’t solve, or the way Sevika ignored you entirely, as though you didn’t even belong in the equation.

You often wondered what she thought of you. Did she resent your presence? Did she know the truth about your connection to Silco? Or did she simply not care, too focused on her own responsibilities to spare you a second thought?

Whatever the answer, her silence only deepened your sense of isolation.

In a world where alliances were everything, you had none. Silco kept you close, but not close enough to trust. Sevika barely acknowledged your existence. And the rest of his network? You were just another shadow trailing behind their leader.

“What are you thinking about?” Silco’s voice cut through the heavy silence of the room, flat and devoid of warmth. It wasn’t curiosity that drove his question but rather an obligatory check-in, as though he were asking a subordinate for an written report.

You didn’t answer right away. Sprawled on the leather couch in his office, you lay there with an almost detached stillness, your gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling above. The faint smell of tobacco lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic smell of Zaun’s pollution that seeped through every corner of the undercity—though it was stronger the closer to the center of Zaun's underground you got.

Your body felt heavy, the kind of weight born not just of physical exhaustion but a deeper, lingering weariness. You slowly turned your head toward him, your movements sluggish, as though even this small effort was a monumental task.

He was seated at his desk, the usual mountain of papers and reports spread out before him in a disorganized sprawl. A cigar burned lazily in the ashtray nearby, its smoke curling upward in thin, ghostly tendrils. It was clear he hadn’t bothered to put it out; maybe he enjoyed the reminder of its presence, or maybe he simply didn’t care.

For once, Silco wasn’t hunched over his desk in the midst of his tireless work. Instead, he was leaning back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests, his pen abandoned beside the document he had been signing. His mismatched eyes were fixed on you, their gaze as impassive as ever.

He looked at you like he might glance at a stray dog lingering too close—an idle sort of indifference, mixed with vague curiosity but devoid of any real emotion. It was a look you were used to by now, one that never failed to make you feel even smaller in his presence.

“Well?” he prompted again, his voice as dull and unhurried as before.

For a moment, you held his gaze, meeting his detached expression with one of your own. Then, slowly, you turned away, breaking the silence with nothing more than the soft rustle of your clothes against the leather couch.

The ceiling reclaimed your attention, its worn and water-stained surface more comforting than the man sitting across from you. What could you possibly say to him?

"'Oh shit,'" you mumbled under your breath, almost as if testing the weight of the words on your tongue. They felt foreign now, despite having tumbled out so naturally when you’d first met him. “I can’t believe that’s it.”

The words hung in the air, awkward and unpolished, just like the first time they’d been uttered.

There was another lingering pause.

Silco didn’t immediately reply, his eyes fixed on you as he leaned further back in his chair with composed authority. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—at least not for him. For you, however, it pressed down like a weight, making your chest tighten as you waited for his reaction.

He finally hummed, the sound low and almost dismissive, as though your musings barely warranted a response.

“It’s undignified,” he said, his tone carrying that familiar edge of disapproval.

You didn’t flinch at the criticism; you’d grown used to it by now. He had made no effort to hide his disdain for the phrase since the moment it became clear you were his soulmate. The phrase on his wrist—the one you’d unknowingly delivered in that fateful moment—had been etched into his very being for years, and it was abundantly clear he hated every letter of it.

“You’ve mentioned that before,” you replied, keeping your tone even. It wasn’t worth snapping back.

His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smirk, though it lacked humor. “Because it bears repeating.”

You sighed softly, slightly adjusting to make yourself more comfortable, as if trying to retreat from his judgment. “It’s not like I chose it. If anyone should be offended, it’s me. Who greets their soulmate with ‘Don’t move,’ anyway?”

Silco’s gaze sharpened slightly, though his posture remained relaxed. “It was a pragmatic response to the situation.”

You arched a brow as you turned back to face him, meeting his expecting gaze, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself. “Pragmatic? That’s what you’re calling it?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he clasped his hands together. “Would you have preferred I be poetic while you stumbled out of an alley, ready to flee?”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped, realizing you didn’t really have a better answer. You shook your head.

“Fate has a terrible sense of humor,” you muttered, slowly pulling yourself to sit up.

Silco didn’t immediately respond. When he did speak, his voice was quieter, though no less measured.

“Fate,” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of distaste. “I don’t put much faith in it. Fate is… inconvenient.”

“And yet, here we are.” You murmured, barely loud enough for him to catch.

He held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then, without another word, he leaned back in his chair again, reaching for the cigar that had been forgotten in the ashtray.

tgs ;; @trixie541 @90s-slasher-seji @miffysoo @sevikashimmerstrap @magicaltigerking

[vanteguccir]

it's already midnight in brazil, which means it's already the triplets 21st birthday!

people say that sometimes, the people who feel closest to us are the ones we’ve never met in person. this perfectly describes my bond with them

these three guys aren't just the sun that brightens my day because even the sun sets. they're my stars, constant and unwavering, shining even in my darkest times. even when I can't see them, I know they’re always there

21 years ago, three boys came into this world, and little did they know, they would become the anchors in my life. they have transformed my world in ways I never thought possible, filling it with joy, laughter, and an unshakable sense of belonging. I love them more than words can express, and I am eternally grateful for their presence

Chris, Matt, and Nick are more than just YouTubers to me; they're my home. the sound of their voices brings me comfort no matter where I am. compliments about them feel personal, as if they're about me because they have become such an integral part of my life

I will never be able to express how grateful I am for them being the incredible individuals they are and for everything they've done, knowingly or unknowingly. I'm proud of each of them individually and as a trio. their hard work and dedication have not only brought joy to countless others but have also introduced me to friends within the fandom, provided me with countless laughs, and offered home on my worst days

their videos have been a source of comfort, their presence, a big and very full ball of hope. they've kept me company through the worst workdays and the best moments of life since the beginning of 2023. every time I think of them, I swell with pride; pride in how far they've come, pride in the joy they've spread so easily, and pride in the incredible community they've built

I'm grateful to them for brightening my days, for being there when I needed it most, and for bringing so much happiness into my life. here's to those amazing boys on their 21st birthday; may their light continue to shine brightly for years to come

[dreamersworldduh]

UNSPOKEN TRUTHS

• Dick Grayson x Male!Reader

SUMMARY — you and Dick Grayson go way back but it’s been so many years since you two last spoke. So what happens when you two reconnect in the oddest way possible.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 7.8k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! firstly, THANK YOU all for the love and support for Sunday Mornings. Now, this is a long one and I may have gotten a little carried away but nevertheless I hope you all enjoy!

Dick Grayson.

There's an undeniable magnetism about Dick Grayson—an aura that makes it impossible to stay away from him, even when every instinct tells you that you should. He embodies everything that simultaneously irritates and captivates you. He's infuriatingly charming, effortlessly sociable, and devastatingly handsome. Add to that his cocky attitude and penchant for being the ultimate goofball, and you're left with a contradiction wrapped in an irresistible package.

You've known him since your very first year at Hudson University, where fate (or maybe bad luck?) had you both enrolled in the same criminology class. While you were focused on minding your own business, diligently taking notes and keeping your head down, Dick Grayson had other plans. He was the kind of guy who seemed to thrive on interaction, and apparently, you had caught his attention.

It started innocently enough. You were hunched over your notebook, furiously scribbling details from the professor's lecture, utterly engrossed. That's when Dick made his move. Leaning over with that trademark mischievous grin, he decided your focus was far too serious for his liking.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low enough not to draw the professor's wrath but loud enough to break through your concentration.

You tried to ignore him, hoping he'd get bored and leave you alone. But this was Dick Grayson, and persistence was practically his middle name. He didn't just want your attention—he demanded it. Whether it was tapping on your notebook, cracking an unnecessary joke, or asking a deliberately ridiculous question about the lecture material, he seemed determined to throw you off your game.

At first, you hated him for it. Who did this guy think he was, barging into your quiet world of focus and discipline with his infuriating grin and boyish charm? But over time, something shifted. Maybe it was the way he made you laugh when you least expected it, or the fact that underneath all the cockiness, he was genuinely kind and intelligent.

Dick Grayson wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. And whether you liked it or not, he had a way of turning your world upside down.

Your friendship with Dick began as a slow bloom, nurtured by shared classes, late-night study sessions, and moments of unexpected laughter. What started as a simple camaraderie between classmates grew into an unshakable bond that lasted all four years at Hudson University. The two of you were inseparable, each other's confidant, cheerleader, and partner in crime-solving, so to speak.

By the time graduation rolled around, everyone assumed that life would pull you in different directions. With the ink barely dry on your diplomas, it seemed logical that you'd both scatter to explore the opportunities your criminology degrees offered. And for a while, it seemed like that was how the story would end. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

You eventually landed a job in Blüdhaven as a small-time investigator, the kind of work that fit your personality like a glove. Observant to a fault and driven by a relentless curiosity, you thrived in the world of puzzles and mysteries. Unraveling clues, piecing together fragments of stories, and finding answers where others saw dead ends gave you an unshakable sense of fulfillment.

But being as observant as you were had its downsides. You were the kind of person who couldn't let things go, even when every rational instinct told you to back off. That's how you found yourself in your current predicament—a missing persons case that had taken a dark and dangerous turn.

It had started innocently enough, following breadcrumbs that no one else had noticed. But as you dug deeper, you realized the case was connected to a local gang, one that didn't appreciate your meddling. Unfortunately for you, they'd noticed your snooping long before you realized you were on their radar. By the time you put the pieces together, it was too late. They had you.

The gang's leader, a stereotypical brute with a barrel chest and a growling voice to match, stood over you, barking out threats. His speeches were a predictable blend of clichés: "You should've minded your own business!" and "You don't know who you're messing with!" It would've been almost funny if the situation weren't so dire.

Despite the danger, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. You'd managed to find the missing person, even if it had landed you in chains. And now, as the leader ranted, you sat there, tied to a chair in some dingy warehouse, mentally kicking yourself for not being more careful.

Then, something caught your eye.

Out of the corner of the dimly lit room, a movement stirred in the shadows. At first, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. But then, you saw him—a figure dressed in sleek black and blue, moving with cat-like precision through the darkness. The gang leader, oblivious to the silent intruder, continued his tirade, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The man in the shadows was swift, almost inhumanly so. One by one, the gang members guarding the room were dispatched with precise, fluid motions. He was a blur of calculated power, blending perfectly into the gloom until he wanted to be seen. And then, he was there.

Nightwing.

You'd heard whispers of him before—Blüdhaven's vigilante protector, a myth to some, a menace to criminals. But seeing him in action was another thing entirely. His black and blue suit seemed to absorb the faint light in the room, his presence commanding yet effortless.

As chaos erupted in the warehouse, the gang leader spun around, barking orders to his panicking subordinates. You could only watch in awe—and maybe a little bit of relief—as Nightwing expertly dismantled your captors. You didn't know how or why he'd come for you, but in that moment, you didn't care. All you knew was that your life was in the hands of someone who clearly knew what he was doing.

The warehouse was a symphony of chaos. Nightwing moved like a shadow come to life, his every step deliberate and his strikes landing with unerring precision. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the fluidity of his movements. He wasn't just fighting—he was dismantling. Each thug fell with a grunt or a pained yell, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. The air was thick with the sharp sounds of punches landing and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the cold cement floor.

The leader, who had loomed so intimidatingly just minutes ago, now looked like a lumbering fool. He charged at Nightwing with brute force, swinging a metal pipe with the confidence of someone who had never faced someone of this caliber before. Nightwing sidestepped with ease, his movements economical and almost effortless. In a flash, the vigilante grabbed the leader's arm, twisted it with a sharp motion, and sent the weapon flying. A quick roundhouse kick to the chest sent the man sprawling onto his back with a groan of defeat.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the fight was over.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Nightwing straightened, his breathing steady despite the intense effort he'd just exerted. He surveyed the room, his sharp gaze ensuring no threats remained. The dim lighting cast a faint glow on his black-and-blue suit, accentuating the imposing figure he cut. You couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awe, even as your pulse raced from the ordeal.

Finally, his focus shifted to you. His stride was purposeful, his boots barely making a sound as he crossed the distance. He crouched beside you, the sharp angles of his mask now just inches from your face. His hands, encased in black gloves, moved swiftly, slicing through the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a gentle concern that caught you off guard. His eyes—calm, steady, and searching—met yours briefly, and in that moment, the hostage trembling nearby seemed like an afterthought.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaky as you replied, "I'm fine. Thanks to you."

As he helped you to your feet, his hand lingered on your arm, steadying you. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt through you. Those eyes. Brown, warm, and so achingly familiar. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as realization struck.

"Dick?" you whispered, the name escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.

He stiffened, the subtle movement confirming what you already knew. His head turned slightly, his gaze flicking to the hostage, who was watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes. His silence said everything.

You bit your lip, realizing your mistake. Swallowing your questions, you forced yourself to focus. The hostage needed to be taken care of, and this wasn't the time or place for the confrontation brewing in your mind.

"Thank you," the hostage managed to stammer, their voice shaky. Nightwing gave them a curt nod, his usual confidence slipping back into place as he offered them a reassuring glance.

Moments later, the sound of sirens filled the air, the flashing red and blue lights of the approaching police cars spilling into the warehouse. Officers rushed in, taking the gang into custody and escorting the hostage to safety. Meanwhile, you stayed put, standing just outside the chaos as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from your system.

Nightwing lingered, his posture tense but his presence solid and unwavering. It was clear he was waiting—perhaps for the right moment, or perhaps for you.

"You're not leaving," you said, stepping closer to him with a sharpness in your tone that surprised even you. "Good. Because we need to talk."

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. Still, you caught the faintest hint of unease in his posture. He knew what was coming.

As the last of the police cars pulled away, leaving the two of you bathed in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you finally allowed yourself to say what had been clawing at you.

"It is you," you said softly, the weight of the realization settling over you. "Dick Grayson."

Nightwing let out a soft, resigned sigh. Without a word, he reached up, his gloved fingers curling around the edges of his mask. In one smooth motion, he pulled it away, revealing the face you'd known for years.

The sight of him hit you like a wave. His dark hair was slightly tousled, damp with sweat, and those familiar brown eyes stared back at you with a mix of guilt and apprehension.

"Hi," he said, his voice quiet but steady, as if testing the waters.

You stared at him, struggling to untangle the mess of emotions inside you. Shock, anger, confusion, and something else—something softer—swirled in your chest. "You've been here," you said finally, your voice trembling. "In Blüdhaven. This whole time. And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not that simple," he replied, his tone gentle but laced with regret. "I wanted to. I just... couldn't."

You huffed, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "You're not getting out of this, Dick. We're talking about it. All of it."

A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, he almost looked like the carefree friend you remembered from Hudson University. "Yeah," he said softly. "I figured as much."

The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, unspoken questions lingering in the air. There was so much to say, so much you needed to understand, but for now, the two of you simply stood there, the silence stretching like an unspoken promise.

Soon, the two of you arrived at Dick's apartment, the closest and most convenient place to regroup. The space was warm and inviting, a surprising contrast to the gritty chaos of the warehouse you'd just escaped. Dick excused himself to change out of his vigilante uniform, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and his belongings.

It wasn't long before your curiosity got the better of you. Old habits die hard, and you found yourself wandering the apartment, taking in the details. The first thing you noticed was how organized it was compared to his dorm back in college. Gone were the piles of laundry and cluttered desks; everything here had its place. The sleek, minimalist decor hinted at someone who valued function over flair, though the occasional personal touch softened the aesthetic.

There were pictures scattered around, mostly in simple frames. You stopped to study them, recognizing some of the faces from news articles and social media posts. These must be his siblings. During college, Dick had rarely talked about his family, offering only vague hints that he was adopted and that his adoptive father was extremely wealthy. Back then, the extent of his family's resources was evident in the way he casually splurged—never obnoxiously, but like the carefree college student who'd buy a round of shots for half the campus without a second thought.

Your gaze lingered on a particular photo, and your breath caught. It was a picture of you and Dick, taken during a Christmas party in your junior year. The two of you stood beneath a sprig of mistletoe, your face frozen in an exaggeratedly annoyed expression as he planted a kiss on your cheek. But you remembered that moment vividly. You remembered how fast your heart had raced, how flustered you'd felt, and how you'd struggled to keep your reaction under control. Out of all the pictures you'd taken together, you couldn't believe he'd kept this one.

The sound of his voice startled you from your thoughts.

"You know, this is exactly how you got yourself captured the first time," Dick said, his tone tinged with amusement.

You turned sharply, only to find him leaning casually against the doorframe. He was dressed in a navy blue tank top that revealed the lean, athletic build beneath, his arms toned from years of training. Loose-fitting gray joggers hung low on his hips, offering a distracting peek at his defined waistline. For a moment, your thoughts betrayed you, wandering where they shouldn't. You quickly shook the imagery from your mind and refocused, gesturing toward the picture in question.

"Why this picture?" you asked, pointing at the frame.

Dick stepped closer, glancing at the photo with a soft smile. "It's my favorite of us," he admitted, his voice light but honest.

Your chest tightened. You stared at him, studying the way his expression softened as he looked at the photo, as though it held a special place in his memory. You remembered that night clearly, but you'd never imagined it meant as much to him as it had to you.

"You don't even like Christmas," you teased, trying to deflect the sudden wave of emotion threatening to surface.

He shrugged, turning to you with a playful grin. "True. But I like you."

The simplicity of his statement made your heart skip a beat. He said it so casually, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, yet the weight of those words hung heavy in the air between you. You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.

"Dick..." you began, your voice faltering.

"Don't overthink it," he said, his grin fading into something softer. "I just... like having a reminder of how happy we were. That's all."

You looked back at the photo, the moment frozen in time, and then at him. For all the chaos that had led to this point, standing here with him now, it was hard to deny that something about this moment felt right.

The dining room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen. You leaned against the chair, arms crossed, watching as Dick moved to the table where a stack of papers sat in disarray. His movements were deliberate but lacked his usual confidence, as though he were stalling for time.

“So,” you began, your tone cutting through the silence, “I’m guessing things have been rough if you decided to change careers. Last we talked, you were dead set on becoming a cop. It was literally all you could talk about.”

You turned to face him fully, your words sharp but not without curiosity. Dick froze for a moment, his shoulders tensing before he turned his head slightly toward you.

“That’s still in the works,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with defensiveness.

“Yeah?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you pointed to the table. “You mean with those blank applications over there?”

Dick followed your gaze to the stack of untouched forms on the dining room table. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as if that would somehow untangle the thoughts swirling in his head.

“You don’t understand, Y/N…” he started, but you weren’t about to let him finish.

“I may not be a crime-fighting vigilante in spandex,” you interrupted, stepping closer and folding your arms tightly across your chest, “but I do know you can’t keep putting your life on hold like this. Blüdhaven isn’t Gotham, Dick. You don’t have to be out there night and day. It’s not your responsibility to carry this city on your back.”

He turned to face you fully now, his jaw set. “I also run my own team, you know,” he pointed out, his tone firm but not without frustration.

“Okay, and?” you replied, your voice rising slightly. “I’m thankful for what you did tonight—for me, for that hostage, for everyone you help. But come on, Dick. You can’t just live for this. You should have a life outside of your nighttime activities and team leadership. You deserve more than this relentless grind.”

His hands clenched briefly at his sides, and then he threw them up in exasperation. “I did!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. “I did have that life. Four years, Y/N. Four years of normalcy. School, friends… you.”

You blinked, his words hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t done.

“I fell in love with you, for god’s sake,” he continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I knew—deep down—I couldn’t hold onto that. I couldn’t keep living in a reality that wasn’t mine to have.”

For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly still. You stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, his words ricocheting in your mind.

“You… fell in love with me?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Dick looked at you, his expression vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. His usually confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and honest.

“I never stopped,” he admitted quietly, his gaze unwavering.

The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, but before Dick could react, reality struck you like a lightning bolt. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the room, startling you both.

“You waited four years to tell me you’re in love with me?” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of frustration, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite name.

Dick blinked in surprise, his cheek barely reddened from the slap. He raised a hand to rub at it, murmuring, “Ow.” Though you knew it hadn’t actually hurt him—your slap had been more for dramatic effect than anything else—it still made him flinch slightly.

“You know,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperated humor, “it took a lot of courage to admit this. I mean, at first, I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. But the more I got to know you…” He paused, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I was whipped. Everyone knew how protective I was of you.”

“Clearly not everyone,” you shot back, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

Dick tilted his head, his expression softening with that boyish charm that always seemed to disarm you. “That’s because you were always so oblivious to things,” he pointed out, a teasing edge in his tone.

“This isn’t about me,” you retorted, your frustration flaring again. “This is about you—about you waiting years to—”

Before you could finish, Dick’s hands moved with startling quickness, cupping your face as he leaned in, cutting you off completely. His lips crashed onto yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

Your first instinct was to resist, your mind screaming at you to stay angry, to push him away and demand answers. But the moment his lips moved against yours, warm and insistent, your anger began to dissolve like sugar in water. His touch was firm but not forceful, as though he was pouring every unspoken word, every pent-up feeling, into that kiss.

Damn him.

Your hands, which had been frozen in mid-air, slowly lowered to his chest, resting against the fabric of his tank top. You wanted to be mad, to hold onto your indignation, but instead, you found yourself leaning into him. His lips were soft yet commanding, and they melted away every ounce of tension in your body.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. His brown eyes, now so close, bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. There was an undeniable hunger in them, a raw and unguarded lust, but beneath it was something deeper, something that spoke of years of unspoken feelings and restraint finally breaking free.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with tension as he leaned in closer, his forehead still brushing against yours. His hands, which had been gently cupping your face, slid down to your jaw, his thumbs tracing soft, maddeningly slow circles on your skin.

“I want to make love to you so bad,” Dick whispered, his voice husky and low, the words trembling with emotion. “But I want to do this right.”

The warmth of his breath tickled your lips as he spoke, and the sheer vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. Yet the weight of those words, so raw and sensual, sent a jolt of arousal through you. You felt your body react instantly, your breath hitching as your dick tightened in response.

You had never heard anything like this from him before—such a delicate balance of sweetness and longing, spoken with the kind of confidence that sent heat pooling in your stomach. His voice wasn’t just sexual; it was reverent, like he was making a promise wrapped in desire.

Your hands rested against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tank top as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth of his body beneath your touch only heightened the tension, and you struggled to form a coherent thought, let alone words.

“Dick…” you finally managed, though it came out as little more than a breathless murmur.

His eyes never left yours, his gaze darkened with an intensity that made it clear just how much he wanted you—but he didn’t move, waiting for your response. Waiting for you to meet him halfway. And in that moment, the depth of his restraint only made you want him more.

“I want you to make love to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze. The words hung in the air for a moment, electrifying the space between you.

Dick’s eyes darkened instantly, the flicker of hesitation replaced by raw desire and unrestrained passion. That was all he needed. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours, crashing against yours with a fury that made your knees weak.

The kiss was nothing like the soft, tentative one from earlier. This was urgent, consuming, as though he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t contain himself any longer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The heat of his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as wildly as your own.

You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with an intensity that made you shiver. His fingers trailed up your back, one hand tangling in your hair while the other held your waist, anchoring you to him.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, sliding over the smooth, warm skin exposed by his tank top. You clutched at him, your fingers curling into the fabric as you felt his muscles flex beneath your touch. He kissed you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, pouring every ounce of his suppressed longing into it.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and swollen from the sheer intensity. His forehead pressed against yours as he steadied himself, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse, though the look in his eyes made it clear how much he wanted you.

You nodded, your hands sliding down his chest to rest against his waist. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed to hear before his lips were on yours again, this time softer but no less passionate, as if he wanted to savor every second of what was about to happen.

Dick’s lips moved from yours with deliberate, unhurried precision, trailing a path along your jawline before finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The contrast between his soft kisses and the occasional scrape of his teeth sent a shiver coursing down your spine.

When he finally found your sweet spot just below your ear, your breath hitched sharply, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his lips lingering as he alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing nibbles.

Your hands, which had been resting lightly against his waist, tightened instinctively. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his joggers, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat radiating from his body. The firmness of his waist beneath your touch grounded you even as your head tilted back slightly, offering him more access.

He hummed against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His arms wrapped around you more securely, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other pressed against the small of your back, holding you flush against him.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough. The combination of his words and his lips on your skin was overwhelming, igniting an firm erection in your dick that made it impossible to think of anything but him.

Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling against his as you surrendered completely to the sensations. Every press of his lips, every soft graze of his teeth, sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you, and you couldn’t help but cling to him even tighter.

“Dick,” you breathed, his name spilling from your lips in a way that was half plea, half encouragement. His response was a low, approving growl that made your knees go weak, but his strong arms kept you firmly in place.

Dick’s hands slid down your sides, lingering for a moment at your hips before they gripped your thighs firmly. In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His strength, always impressive but now impossibly intimate, sent a shiver through you.

Your arms clung to his shoulders for balance as he held you close, your chest pressed against his. His lips captured yours again, and the kiss was slow but no less hungry, his steps steady as he carried you toward the darkly dim room down the hall.

Normally, your inquisitive nature would have taken over, and you’d have surveyed every inch of the space. But right now, your attention was consumed by him—by the heat of his body, the way his fingers flexed against your thighs, and the electric connection between you.

The faint glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls as he entered the room. You barely registered the surroundings, focusing instead on the way his breathing had quickened, mirroring your own. He reached the bed, lowering you carefully to the floor with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

His hands lingered on your hips as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze burning with unspoken desire and reverence. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin as he lifted it over your head. He took his time, his eyes roaming over you like he was memorizing every detail.

Your breath hitched as he began to undress himself, his movements fluid and unhurried. His tank top came off first, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. His joggers followed, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Your hands moved instinctively to his waist, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you gently, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone.

His hands returned to you, sliding along your sides with deliberate slowness before slipping beneath the waistband of your own boxers, guiding them down. The intimacy of the moment made your pulse race, every inch of skin he revealed heightening the tension between you.

Now, with both of you standing there, bare except for the thin fabric separating you completely, the air felt charged, heavy with anticipation. Dick’s eyes locked onto yours, his expression a perfect blend of lust and something deeper, something that made your heart pound harder than ever before.

Dick’s hands wrapped around your dick with deliberate care, his grip firm yet gentle. The slow, teasing movements of his fingers as he stroked you sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. His eyes stayed locked on yours, their intensity leaving you breathless. He watched your every reaction, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as soft moans began to spill from your lips.

The sound seemed to embolden him, as if each moan was a symphony only he could conduct. He leaned closer, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Before you could process what was happening, he guided you backward, gently pushing you onto the mattress.

The soft surface cradled you as you fell, the world around you blurring into insignificance. All that mattered was him—his touch, his gaze, his presence. Dick climbed onto the bed, settling himself between your legs with a confidence that made your pulse race.

His hands found your thighs, gripping them firmly but not aggressively as he spread your legs slightly wider. The warmth of his palms was grounding, his touch both possessive and reverent. His eyes never left yours, a silent question hanging in the air, one you answered with a slight nod and a quiet, shaky breath.

Leaning forward, he placed a featherlight kiss just below your navel before lowering himself further. The sensation of his tongue grazing your dick made your back arch slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He didn’t stop there—his tongue trailed down with slow, deliberate strokes before his lips closed around you completely.

The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, his movements skilled and calculated. He alternated between slow, torturous licks and firm, rhythmic suction, drawing louder moans from you with each passing second. The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, mingling with his soft hums as he worked.

Just as you thought the sensations couldn’t intensify, you felt something new. His hand, which had been resting on your thigh, moved downward, his fingers tracing teasing circles near your hole. The first press of his fingertip was gentle, testing, and when he felt your body relax, he slid a single finger inside with the same care.

The combination of his mouth and the intrusion sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and your moans grew louder, higher, uncontrollable. Your hands instinctively reached for him, one tangling in his hair as the other clutched at the sheets beneath you.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his brown eyes dark with desire, a glint of satisfaction evident as he took in the sight of you unraveling beneath him. He added a slight curl to his finger, hitting a spot that made your entire body tremble. The way your voice broke with pleasure was like fuel to him, and he redoubled his efforts, his lips and fingers moving in perfect harmony to push you further toward the edge.

The only thing you could do was surrender to him completely, your mind and body consumed by the intensity of the sensations he was creating.

The sudden press of a second finger into your hole sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, a sharp moan escaping your lips at the unexpected intrusion. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, your chest rising and falling as Dick’s fingers moved inside you with increasing speed. Each curl and thrust was precise, hitting spots that made your back arch off the mattress in ecstasy.

The heat pooling in your hole was overwhelming, your breath coming in short gasps as you struggled to keep up with the rhythm he was setting. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of control, his fingers stopped abruptly and slid out, leaving you gasping at the loss of contact.

“Why did you—” you began, your voice breathless and laced with confusion, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes traveled down to him.

Dick had shifted back slightly, his hands hooking into the waistband of his boxers. With deliberate slowness, he slid them down his hips, his eyes never leaving yours. As the fabric pooled at his knees, your gaze dropped, and your breath hitched at the sight before you.

His dick was fully revealed, and he was… well, impressively endowed. Huge as hell. The dim light of the room cast shadows that only emphasized his size and shape, and for a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The anticipation in the air was electric, and the confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips told you he noticed your reaction.

“You were saying?” he teased softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

Your mouth opened to reply, but no words came. Instead, your eyes flickered back up to meet his, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach flip. He moved closer, his hands returning to your thighs, gently spreading them wider as he leaned over you, his bare skin brushing against yours. The weight of him above you, combined with the heat radiating from his body, sent your pulse racing again.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a mix of tenderness and desire.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

His smile softened for a moment, a flicker of something deeper crossing his expression before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an invitation.

Dick broke the kiss, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly. His eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Reaching over to his dresser, he grabbed a small bottle of lube, his movements deliberate but steady.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing a reassuring circle against your hip.

You nodded, your anticipation building as he popped the cap. The cool gel landed on your hole, and you squirmed at the sudden chill, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Dick chuckled lightly at your reaction, his hands smoothing over your thighs to steady you.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he worked the lube gently around your hole. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, his touch careful and precise.

Once he was satisfied, he coated himself in the gel, his large hands moving confidently as he spread it over his dick. The sight alone made your heart race, but before you could get lost in the thought, he tossed the bottle somewhere across the room with a soft thud, refocusing entirely on you.

His hands returned to your waist, gripping you firmly but gently as he positioned himself between your legs. The weight of his gaze anchored you, and you took a deep breath as you felt the head of his dick press against your hole.

“This might feel a little intense at first,” he warned, his voice husky but tender. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”

You nodded again, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as he began to push forward slowly. The stretch was immediate, his size making you wince slightly as your body adjusted. Dick paused, his brows furrowed in concentration as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek.

He continued inching forward, his movements measured and deliberate, giving you time to adjust with each small push. By the time he was fully seated inside you, your breaths were coming in shallow gasps, but you could feel the tension in your body beginning to ease.

Dick stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. His hands moved up to cradle your face as he kissed you softly, his lips tender and warm. “You feel so damn good,” he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses down your jawline and neck.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his words laced with affection as he peppered your skin with soft touches. His hands stroked your sides gently, grounding you while his lips worked to soothe any lingering discomfort.

“You’re everything,” he added, his voice low and filled with emotion, as though each word was meant to make you feel as cherished as possible.

The warmth of his presence, the tenderness of his touch, and the sincerity in his words made it impossible not to relax completely. Your body adjusted to him, the initial discomfort fading into something far more intimate and fulfilling.

Dick’s thrusts began slow and deliberate, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he slid in and out of your hole. Each thrust was careful, as if he were gauging your every reaction, ensuring you were comfortable. The initial stretch had given way to a new sensation—fullness that sent sparks of pleasure radiating through you with every deliberate motion.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your knuckles whitening as you let out a shaky moan. The heat building in your core only intensified as Dick’s strokes grew deeper, his pace gradually increasing. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to anchor you but not hurt. He adjusted his angle slightly, and the next thrust hit a spot that made your back arch off the mattress and a louder moan escape your lips.

“That’s it,” Dick murmured, his voice a deep, encouraging rasp that sent shivers through your body. “Let me hear you.”

Your moans grew more unrestrained as his movements became more confident, each stroke deeper and more precise than the last. His body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin adding to the growing intensity. The sound of your bodies moving together—his labored breathing, your gasps, the rhythmic creak of the mattress—filled the dimly lit room, creating an atmosphere of pure intimacy.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips as the pleasure built higher. His response was a low groan, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. His lips were warm, insistent, and grounding, keeping you tethered to him even as your body felt like it might unravel from the sensations he was creating.

Every thrust felt like a wave crashing through you, each one pulling you further under, until all you could do was cling to him and let him take you where he wanted.

“Say it again,” Dick whispered in your ear, his voice low and full of need. His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his breath hot against your skin. “Say my name.”

“Dick,” you moaned, your voice breaking as another thrust sent a wave of pleasure surging through you. “Ugh, Dick—”

He growled softly at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you up from the bed. In one fluid motion, he shifted, sitting back on his knees with you straddling him. Your legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed together as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you against him.

You didn’t need any encouragement. Your body took over, moving instinctively as you began to rise and fall along his dick. Each motion sent him deeper inside you, filling you completely, and your moans grew louder, spilling into his ear with every movement.

The sensation was overwhelming—the stretch, the heat, the way his hands gripped your hips to guide you as you moved. But before another moan could escape, Dick silenced you with a kiss. His lips crashed into yours, passionate and demanding, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion and desire. “I love you so fucking much.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, your heart racing as you whimpered in response. “I love you too, Dick. I love you.”

The rhythm between you grew faster, more desperate, as your body tightened around him. The pleasure was building, an unstoppable crescendo that left you trembling in his arms. You buried your face in his neck, gasping out, “I’m close. Faster, baby. Please.”

His lips brushed your ear as he chuckled softly, his voice deep and intoxicating. “As you wish.”

With that, he tightened his grip on your hips and thrust upward with renewed intensity, meeting each of your movements with precision. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady slap of your bodies moving together. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life.

Dick’s lips found yours again, his kisses feverish and consuming as he whispered words of love and encouragement between each kiss.

Your entire body tensed as the pleasure reached its peak, and you let out a cry of pure bliss, your climax washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Dick’s thrusts didn’t falter for a moment. If anything, they became more relentless, each one deeper and more deliberate than the last. His breathing grew heavier, his body pressing firmly against yours as his rhythm quickened. The telltale tension in his muscles and the soft groans spilling from his lips signaled that he was nearing his own climax, but he didn’t let up.

His lips never left your skin, moving from your mouth to your neck and back again, as though grounding himself in the intimacy of the moment. Each kiss was full of raw passion, his lips trailing heat and leaving you breathless.

“You feel so good,” Dick murmured against your ear, his voice strained and low. “So perfect.”

The intensity of his thrusts made it impossible to form coherent words. Your body arched instinctively, your hands clutching at his back as he held you tightly against him. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging in slightly as his movements became more erratic, more desperate.

“Y/N,” he groaned, your name rolling off his tongue in a deep, guttural tone that sent shivers through you.

A moment later, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips pressing flush against yours as he reached his breaking point. The warmth of his release filled you, a rush of heat that made you gasp. His head fell against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling slightly against yours.

Even then, his lips continued their tender assault, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and up to your neck. His voice was a low whisper, almost inaudible over the sound of your labored breathing.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d hit you,” you breathed out, your voice heavy with exhaustion but tinged with playful annoyance.

Dick chuckled, his warm breath ghosting over your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “Why?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. “What did I do this time?”

“You robbed me of four years of amazing sex,” you replied matter-of-factly, shooting him a tired glare that only made him laugh harder.

His laughter was rich and unrestrained, his chest vibrating against yours as he leaned back just enough to lift his head from your neck. His gaze locked onto yours, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. Without warning, he captured your lips in a kiss so passionate and full of promise that it left you breathless all over again.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was wicked, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started,” he said, his hand sliding down your side possessively. “I hope you don’t have plans in the morning.”

You barely had time to process the meaning of his words before his lips were on you again, igniting another round of passion that carried you both well into the night.

By the time morning rolled around, the two of you were sprawled on the floor of his living room, completely spent. The apartment bore the evidence of your nocturnal escapades: furniture slightly askew, scattered pillows, and discarded clothes littering the space. The air was still faintly warm from the fire you’d burned through the night.

Dick’s strong arms were wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, your breaths soft and even against his skin. His chin rested gently atop your head, and both of you wore blissful smiles as the sunlight began to filter through the curtains.

The world outside was quiet, but in that moment, everything felt perfectly complete. There, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared intimacy, you both slept peacefully, content in a way you hadn’t been in years.