#family tension

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shadows of Confession

Summary: 

What happens when Azriel tells Cassian that Cassian’s little sister Y/N is his mate?

Word Count: 1798

Warnings: None aside from an over protective Cassian 

The training grounds of the Night Court were eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the field where Cassian and Azriel stood, sweat gleaming on their brows from an intense sparring session.

Cassian was the first to break the silence, his voice gruff yet concerned. “You’ve been distracted lately, Az. What’s going on?”

Azriel hesitated, his heart pounding. This was the moment he’d been dreading, but he couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. He sheathed his sword and turned to face his brother. “Cassian, we need to talk.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed, sensing the seriousness in Azriel’s tone. “What is it?”

Azriel took a deep breath, his shadows swirling around him nervously. “It’s about your sister. About Y/N.”

Cassian’s eyes darkened, suspicion creeping into his expression. “What about Y/N?”

Azriel met Cassian’s gaze, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “She’s my mate.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, like a storm breaking, Cassian’s face contorted with anger. “What did you just say?”

“Y/N is my mate,” Azriel repeated, trying to remain calm. “I’ve known for a while now, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

Cassian’s fists clenched, his wings flaring out behind him. “My sister? You think you can just... claim her?”

“It’s not about claiming,” Azriel said, his own shadows agitated by Cassian’s reaction. “It’s a bond, something neither of us can control.”

Cassian took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I’m going to let you, with your shadows and your darkness, anywhere near her? She’s too innocent, too pure for someone like you.”

Azriel’s heart ached at the words, but he held his ground. “I know you want to protect her, Cassian. I do too. I would never hurt her.”

Cassian’s eyes flashed with fury. “You already have! By being who you are, by being in her life, you’re putting her in danger.”

“I love her,” Azriel said quietly, the confession hanging in the air between them. “I love her more than anything. I would die to keep her safe.”

Cassian’s anger seemed to waver, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “Do you think that makes it any easier for me to accept? She’s my little sister, Az. I’ve watched over her all her life. I can’t just... let go.”

Azriel stepped closer, his voice earnest. “I’m not asking you to let go, Cassian. I’m asking you to trust me. To trust that I will do everything in my power to protect her, to make her happy.”

Cassian’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his emotions pulling him down. “She deserves better than this, better than a life filled with shadows.”

Azriel nodded, understanding the depth of Cassian’s concern. “She does. But she’s my light in the darkness, Cassian. She’s the reason I can face my shadows.”

Cassian looked away, struggling with his conflicting emotions. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “Does she know?”

Azriel shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to tell you first. I owe you that much.”

Cassian was silent for a long moment, the tension between them palpable. Then he looked back at Azriel, his expression softening just a fraction. “If you hurt her, Az... if you let her down in any way, I will never forgive you.”

“I won’t,” Azriel vowed, his voice unwavering. “I swear to you, Cassian. I will cherish her, protect her, and love her with everything I have.”

Cassian nodded slowly, the anger in his eyes replaced by a weary acceptance. “You better. For both your sakes.”

Azriel reached out, placing a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Thank you. It means more than you know.”

Cassian gripped Azriel’s shoulder in return, his expression still tense but less hostile. “Just... be good to her, Az. She deserves the best.”

“I will,” Azriel promised, feeling a surge of relief and hope. “I promise.”

As they stood there, the last light of day fading into night, Azriel knew that the hardest part was yet to come—telling Y/N the truth. But with Cassian’s reluctant blessing, he felt ready to face whatever came next, determined to build a future with the woman who had brought light into his shadows.

That evening, Azriel found himself standing outside Rhysand’s study, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He needed advice on how to approach Y/N, and there was no one better to turn to than Rhysand.

He knocked softly, and a moment later, Rhysand’s voice called out, “Come in.”

Azriel entered the room, closing the door behind him. Rhysand looked up from his desk, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Azriel. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Azriel took a seat, his shadows restless around him. “I need your advice, Rhys.”

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression serious. “What’s on your mind?”

Azriel took a deep breath. “It’s about Y/N. She’s my mate.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Y/N? Cassian’s sister?”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. And I told Cassian today. He... didn’t take it well.”

Rhysand chuckled softly. “I can imagine. Cassian can be a bit overprotective when it comes to his sister.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s an understatement. But he gave me his reluctant blessing. Now, I need to figure out how to tell Y/N.”

Rhysand’s gaze softened. “You’re worried about how she’ll react?”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. She’s always been a bit wary of me, of my shadows. I’m afraid that the bond won’t snap into place for her, that she’ll always be a little afraid of me.”

Rhysand leaned forward, his eyes filled with empathy. “Azriel, you’ve always been good at reading people. Trust that. You know Y/N better than you think. Just be honest with her. Tell her how you feel, and let her see the real you.”

Azriel’s shadows seemed to calm at Rhysand’s words. “You’re right. I need to trust in the bond, and in her.”

Rhysand smiled. “Exactly. And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re all here to support you, and Y/N too.”

Azriel stood, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “Thank you, Rhys. I appreciate it.”

Rhysand nodded, his smile widening. “Anytime, Az. Now go, and tell her how you feel.”

The House of Wind was alive with laughter and conversation as the Night Court gathered for dinner. The long table was filled with the Court's closest members, including Rhysand, Feyre, Mor, Amren, Cassian, Azriel, and Y/N. The warmth of camaraderie and the delicious scent of food filled the air, creating a comforting atmosphere.

Azriel, seated next to Y/N, could barely focus on the meal. His mind was preoccupied with the conversation he had with Cassian earlier that day and the advice he received from Rhysand. He glanced at Y/N, who seemed to be enjoying herself, chatting animatedly with Mor.

Cassian, seated across the table, kept a watchful eye on Azriel. His earlier anger simmered beneath the surface, and he struggled to keep his emotions in check. The knowledge that his sister and Azriel were mates weighed heavily on him.

As the meal progressed, Azriel leaned closer to Y/N, his voice low. "Y/N, can we talk after dinner? There’s something important I need to discuss with you."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and something else—something Azriel couldn't quite place. "Of course, Azriel. I’d like that."

Cassian’s sharp eyes caught the intimate exchange, and he felt his control slipping. His protective instincts over Y/N surged, and before he could stop himself, he slammed his fist on the table, causing everyone to jump.

“Enough!” Cassian roared, his voice echoing through the dining hall. “You think you can just whisper sweet nothings to my sister under my nose, Azriel?”

Everyone turned to look at Cassian in shock, their expressions ranging from surprise to confusion.

“What are you talking about, Cassian?” Rhysand asked, his tone calm but curious.

Cassian pointed a shaking finger at Azriel, his eyes blazing with fury. “He’s been keeping a secret from all of us. From Y/N. He’s her mate!”

Gasps filled the room, and all eyes turned to Azriel and Y/N. Azriel stood, his expression a mixture of anger and determination. “Cassian, this isn’t the way—”

Y/N rose to her feet, her face a mask of shock and dismay. “Cassian, stop! This isn’t your decision to make.”

Cassian turned to her, his voice filled with anguish. “You’re my little sister, Y/N. You don’t understand what you’re getting into. Azriel’s shadows—”

Y/N stepped closer to Cassian, her eyes flashing with determination. “I’ve known, Cassian. I’ve known for a while.”

Silence fell over the room as everyone processed Y/N’s words. Azriel looked at her in surprise. “You knew?”

She nodded, her gaze softening as she met his eyes. “Yes, Azriel. I knew. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare you off. I know how much your shadows mean to you, and I wanted to give you time.”

Cassian looked between Azriel and Y/N, his anger dissipating into confusion. “You knew?”

Y/N reached out to take Cassian’s hand, her voice gentle. “Yes, and I appreciate your concern. But this is my decision. Azriel is my mate, and I trust him.”

Rhysand cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Well, this certainly explains a lot. But Cassian, you need to trust your sister. She’s capable of making her own choices.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, her eyes warm with understanding. “And Azriel is one of the most honorable men I know. He would never hurt Y/N.”

Cassian’s shoulders sagged, the weight of his emotions finally catching up to him. “I just want her to be safe.”

Azriel stepped forward, his voice steady and sincere. “I swear to you, Cassian, I will protect her with my life. She is everything to me.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with love for both her brother and Azriel. “And I love him, Cassian. Please, trust us.”

Cassian sighed, finally relenting. “Alright. But if you ever hurt her, Azriel—”

“I won’t,” Azriel promised, his eyes locking with Y/N’s. “I swear.”

As the tension eased, Rhysand raised his glass, a smile playing on his lips. “To new beginnings, and to the bonds that make us stronger.”

Everyone raised their glasses, the mood lightening once more. Y/N took her seat next to Azriel, their hands entwined under the table. They shared a private smile, knowing that despite the challenges ahead, they would face them together.

Cassian watched them, his protective instincts still strong but tempered by the knowledge that his sister was happy. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

[aventurineswife]

u r now my go-to whenever i have an idea for aventurine :3 (and i love everything u write :3)

so like readers parents invite aventurine over cuz they wanna meet him. aventurine gets nervous (who wouldnt) and reader tells him itll be fine. but readers parents dont like him when they meet him for the first time bc hes part of the ipc (no one really likes the ipc im pretty sure). eventually he grows on them bc hes nice and treats reader well. once they learn his trauma and backstory they're joking about adopting him cuz theyve always wanted a son :3 but it doesnt really matter cuz aventurine is gonna marry reader anyway so theyll get the son they always wanted >v<

-:3 anon

Meeting the Parents!

Summary: Aventurine nervously meets your parents, who initially judge him due to his connection with the IPC. Despite their doubts, his kindness and the revelation of his traumatic past win them over. By the end of the evening, your parents jokingly consider adopting him, unaware that Aventurine plans to marry you, making him family in more ways than one.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Family Dynamics, Nervousness, Romance, Humor, Trauma, Supportive Parents.

Warnings: Light angst, mentions of trauma, family tension.

A/N: HEHEHE THANK YOU SOO MUCH!! 🤭💖 AND I LOVE YOUR REQUESTS!! <33

Aventurine stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d faced down intimidating boardrooms, handled high-stakes deals, and even wagered his career on sheer wit and nerve. But nothing could compare to the butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach at the thought of meeting your parents.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his usually confident voice edged with uncertainty. His eyes found yours in the reflection, an unspoken plea lingering in them.

You took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “They’re going to love you, Aven. Just be yourself, okay?”

His usual grin flickered on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Myself?” he echoed with a soft chuckle. “I hope they can handle that.” He took a deep breath and straightened his posture, donning his most dashing smile, a look that usually melted away doubts. “Alright, let’s do this.”

The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the air as you stepped into your parents' house, leading Aventurine by the hand. Your mother greeted you warmly, her gaze flicking to Aventurine with curiosity…and a touch of skepticism. Your father, meanwhile, offered a polite nod, but there was no missing the cautious look in his eyes as he took in the flamboyant attire, the card suit details, and the peacock feather earring glinting in the light.

“Mom, Dad,” you began, smiling encouragingly, “this is Aventurine.”

Aventurine extended his hand to your father. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. [L/N].”

Your father shook his hand briefly before pulling back. “So, IPC, huh?” he remarked, eyebrows raised. “Not the most popular organization in these parts.”

Aventurine’s confident smile faltered just a bit. He shot a glance your way, as if to gauge if this was the normal reception. You gave him a supportive look, and he recovered, nodding smoothly. “Yes, sir. It does carry a reputation—but I’m not your typical IPC manager.” He laughed, but your parents' silence made the sound a bit strained.

Your mother gestured for everyone to sit, her eyes fixed on him as though assessing some hidden quality. “We know that our [Name] has always been a good judge of character,” she said delicately, “but IPC isn’t exactly known for…compassionate work. What drew you there?”

Aventurine paused, clearly grappling with how much to share. “It’s…complicated,” he said eventually. “But to be frank, I didn’t have much choice. When life’s odds are stacked against you, sometimes you have to play the hand you’re dealt.”

That seemed to strike a chord with them, though they exchanged skeptical glances. Noticing the tension, you gently rested your hand on his, giving him a nod to continue. He met your gaze, and something in your eyes—trust, reassurance—seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Throughout dinner, Aventurine worked to prove himself. He shared stories from his travels and even cracked a few jokes, though his laughter was softer, more tentative than usual. And you noticed him sneaking a worried glance at you each time your father’s questions probed a little too close for comfort.

But slowly, as the evening unfolded, the initial frostiness began to thaw. Your father seemed to soften, maybe even appreciate Aventurine’s resilience and tenacity. And your mother, despite her initial concerns, seemed almost charmed by his good manners and his clear affection for you.

“So, Aventurine,” your mother began, refilling his glass of water, “tell us a bit more about your family.”

He froze, the smile slipping from his face for just a moment. You felt his hand clench slightly under the table, and instinctively, you rubbed his knuckles with your thumb.

“Actually,” he said quietly, looking at his drink, “I…don’t have family.” He gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “They’re gone. All of them, I suppose.”

Your parents’ expressions softened, and your mother reached out, resting her hand over his free one. “I’m sorry, dear,” she murmured, her eyes filling with a new warmth. “No one should have to go through that.”

Aventurine looked up, a surprised flicker crossing his face. “Thank you.”

By the time dessert arrived, the mood was lighter, laughter filling the room as your mother jokingly commented on how she always wanted another son. Aventurine flushed at the remark, glancing at you with a shy, boyish grin you rarely saw.

“Well, Mom,” you said, barely holding back your own grin, “it’s only a matter of time before he’s family anyway.” You shot a mischievous look at Aventurine, who raised an eyebrow, his signature confidence slowly returning.

“Oh?” your father asked, now leaning back with a playful smirk. “You plan on making things official?”

Aventurine chuckled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear, a genuine, softened expression on his face. “Actually…yes, if your child will have me,” he said, his gaze warm as it found yours.

That night, as you walked back to your shared apartment, Aventurine’s hand wrapped securely around yours, he let out a long sigh, laughing softly. “They’re…amazing. I was so nervous. But they’re…your family, [Name]. And they really welcomed me, despite everything.”

You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. “I told you they’d love you.”

He stopped, turning to face you fully, his eyes bright in the dim streetlight. “You were right. And…I want you to know, they’re my family now too. I’m going to protect you. Always.”

You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I know. And I’ll protect you, too.”

Together, you walked on, your steps in perfect harmony. Aventurine didn’t have to gamble anymore; he’d already won.

[blvck-minou]

Sometimes all I think about is you

[star--bird]

Batkids do a "hear me out" cake:

Tim: *Puts Talia to annoy Damien*

Damien: *Starts yelling at Tim while everyone else is trying not to laugh*

Jason: *Mentally freaking out while trying his hardest to act along with the bit*

[angstflavoured]

i think too many people misinterpret what i mean when i say i ship billford. like no, i do not want them to be together happily eventually. i dont even want them to be together. the ship so goddamn toxic that there is only misery and old broken remnants of feelings and longing for something that couldve been but never will be. they will never be happy in each others lives and i want to keep it that way. dont get it twisted thinking im just shipping cute little yaoi and i want them to kiss in canon. no. this is something much deeper and intimate and painful. this aint my first Toxic Old Man Yaoi rodeo and it wont be my last. there is no happiness here.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hii 👋 i really love your works i would eat it if i can, especially freelance inventor, will you ever countinue writing it? (Sorry if it sound rude, English is not my first language)

"So what's the deal with them?" Steph dares to ask when Bruce and Mr. Fenton finish passing out the souvenirs the inventor brought back. She wasn't sure why she was included in the gift giving, as she never even met the man before, but she now had a bowl from Irland tucked in her purse.

She's heard about Mr. Fenton through Tim and a bit from Jason. Both boys practically worshiped the ground the man stepped on. She understood that, on some level, they owed him their lives.

Jason, after being rescued from the Joker and Tim after Mr.Fenton found him on the rooftops all those years ago. She won't lie. How they spoke about Mr.Fenton painted a completely different image in her mind.

She expected someone regal, with a cold, calculating glance, who could figure out what she was expecting with a mere glance. Someone that she wouldn't be surprised if he was found tucked away in a pure white lab, working with glowing chemicals. She knows that they never claim Mr.Fenton was terrifying, but she had personally witnessed Dick threaten to tell Bruce to the man.

If he could make Batman cower by his mere mention, Steph had been expecting someone closer to what an evil version of Alfred would be.

Instead, she got a man in faded jeans, beat-up boots, and gentleness that hurt her teeth with how sweetly he smiled. If Bruce was a Bat, then Mr.Fenton could be a flower.

Gentle. Pretty. Unassuming.

Steph had logically known Mr. Fenton was a civilian. But she thought that he would be a scary one, at the least. Maybe someone in the justice system, a personal fighter like a boxer or hell, someone good with firearms.

"Hmm?" Damian glances up from his painting. Steph noticed that he has been doing a lot lately. Leaving his room to paint around the manor. She hasn't known the boy for long.

Steph had only recently forgiven Bruce for the whole Robin stunt he pulled (making her think she was his partner only to be used as bait for Tim, burned), and she wasn't around when Bruce's bio kid was found. Based on the stories Tim, Jason, and Dick shared, though, she thought he was a little more bloodthirsty.

He is more prone to violence after his upbringing, but he seemed to be shimmering down the last few weeks. Damian had apparently been given a talking to by Mr.Fenton, who took him out of the manor into the city for some "undercover training."

Steph hadn't been in Gotham then. She was busy helping a few teen titans with a mission that had her traveling to the other side of the world. But apparently, whatever harsh training Mr.Fenton had forced Damian to undergo had brought back peace to Wayne Manor.

Or as close as it could be.

He still referred to himself as the actual blood son.

"Bruce and Mr. Fenton," she repeated, nodding to where the pair could be seen conversing in the hallway. However, it looked more like Mr.Fenton was the only one talking. Bruce was too busy staring at him like he was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "They seem really close, but in a weird way."

Damain's intense green eyes snap at her. She raises a brow, unwilling to let the brat see he made her flinch. "Do you have a problem with Father getting close to another man?"

It takes her a few seconds to understand why he sounds so guarded before she gasps. "It's not the gay thing! I don't care if their gay!"

"I should hope not. You come into our home and eat our food, Brown." The boy clicks his tongue distastefully. Steph has never seen someone look down their nose at someone two heads taller than them, but Damian proved it could happen. "I would not allow for homophobia to enter these halls. It is not within the rules of social justice."

"Social justice?" She repeats a little surprise that Damian was speaking to her without an insult so far. The only time the brat had bothered to talk to anyone besides Bruce had been to insult them. At least in the two months, she had seen him wander after her Teen Titians mission.

"Danny has pointed out that Father's civilian reputation is tied heavily with social justice. It would not due for his heir to cause trouble in his affairs." Damian places his paintbrush back on his canvas, sneaking glances at the window.

Curious, Steph creeps closer to take a peak and finds herself memorized by the water painting he is working on. It's Bruce and Mr.Fenton. In the painting, Bruce is staring lovingly at Mr.Fenton, who seems to be in the middle of laughing. Though neither have arms- Damian is working on those- it doesn't detract from their loving expressions.

"If it is not due to their gender, what do you find weird about Father and Danny?"

Steph considers the question before slowly getting closer, wanting to oversee the young boy splash some white into Mr.Fenton's eyes, making them appear glowing. "It's just.....weird how Bruce likes someone so normal. No training. No big fancy money. No ties to the capes. Just a man who's really good at science."

Damain shoots her a complicated glance over his shoulders before he slowly replies. "Yes. An average Joe, as you Americans would say. That is Danny."

"Right? Isn't it weird? And besides the fact Bruce is so obvious with his crush, Mr. Feton has no idea. But he can pull apart a toaster in ten minutes to curl Babs hair for her dance? Don't you think it's odd?"

Damian hums. "A true master does not need to show who they are until the blade is at their opponent's neck. But I will admit that Danny's appearance can be rather deceiving."

"Damian.....do you know something?"

The boy's face turned more complicated before returning his attention to his painting. He taps his paintbrush against his palate before he mutters. "I knew only Danny did not treat me like a rabid animal. He took me to the zoo. I haven't been outside the manor since his last visit and grew wary of these walls."

His words hit Steph like a brick. Her first instinct is to explain why it was essential to keep him here, but then she thinks more about it, and her teeth slam shut.

Crude, has she been acting like Bruce? Had she really allowed him to convince her that a child should be locked up like it was nothing? Then again, Damian isn't a prisoner here.

Even if he was, she helped break him out.

"Say, kid, you want to come with Tim and me to the mall this afternoon? I think they have an art store."

Damian twists around to stare in utter shock. For all his training, he really is just a kid because Steph can see the genuine yearning in his eyes as he tries to casually cover up his reaction with a regal shoulder shrug. "I suppose I will have time for more undercover training."

Strange, Steph thinks while texting Tim about Damian joining them. Mr. Fenton hasn't even spoken to me that long, and he already changed how I viewed Damian. Is this why Bruce is into a civilian?

[seasideoranges]

I genuinely think the premise for the ATLA show is so cool, and it kinda sucks to see people already dump on it when there is *so little* known about it besides the one summary that we got.

ANYWAYS it seems that they’re taking inspiration from the very first concept of ATLA which had that futuristic, post-apocalyptic vibe (shown in concept art below) and I am really eager to see how they tackle that in the new show!

[andi-o-geyser]

despite how you feel about the changes from the stream to the show, if you like or dislike them, i love how inherently hilarious the narrative path tlovm is taking regarding perc’ahlia is because a situationship would literally kill campaign percy and vex like how the internet would kill a small victorian child. they are NOT built for that

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Stephanie's just SO frickin cute sometimes.

Batgirl (2009) #8

[casscainmainly]

This is just my opinion because Duke and Damian only have like 1 major interaction but it is so so important to me that they love each other. They are radically different Robins with contradictory conceptions of what Robin looks like. They are boys of Colour navigating a predominantly White family/society, grappling with the ways their heritages are erased, demonised, or used against them. They symbolise the future. They are each other's biggest insecurities, and are pitted against each other all the time. Their mothers call them by the same name. They can be rude and prickly and hard to deal with, but they're also deeply compassionate and empathetic. And they love each other. They love each other in spite of, and because of, all of the above. At its core, their love is an act of solidarity.

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

This has most definitely been said before, but we were robbed of the core four quarantining on-screen together at Buck’s place. ROBBED I say

[frostgnawdraws]

failure and futility

for day 2 of campfire fest! prompt: third eye (and i guess could also count for explosion, or a lack thereof lol) @outerwilds-events

[softiedingo]

spn after the fourth season

[recsspecs]

Anthony going from a man with apathy to drowning in emotions is the kind of leap I want in my reality. 0-100 super quick

[thaniabb]

So i can see you - G.W

- ‘sailor song’ by gigi perez -

warnings : fluff, tension, no use of y/n

summary : After years of friendship at Hogwarts, an invitation to spend the summer at the Burrow sets the stage for a deeper connection between you and George. Amidst the chaos of family, laughter, and quidditch, subtle moments and shared glances turn into something more meaningful, as both of you navigate the shifting dynamic between friendship and love. Tension builds in the quiet moments, culminating in a tender kiss that marks the beginning of something new. Ultimately, it’s a tale of friendship evolving into love, set in the heart of a bustling, welcoming home.

AN : please write requests i’m literally out of inspiration. thanks for the support bb’s xx. not proofread.

“and love me like a sailor”

It was the third-to-last day before summer break at Hogwarts, and the end of another school year seemed to be rushing toward you at breakneck speed. You could feel the familiar buzz of excitement in the air as students packed their things, ready to escape the ever-winding halls of Hogwarts for a few blissful months of freedom. But amidst all the usual chatter and clatter of trunks and farewells, your thoughts kept circling back to him—George Weasley.

It had started innocently enough. Over the past year, you’d become good friends with George, bonding over late-night study sessions, quiet moments in the Gryffindor common room, and the shared amusement of watching his twin Fred’s constant antics. But something had shifted recently—something you couldn't quite put your finger on. It was in the way George’s eyes lingered a bit longer when he looked at you, how his laugh seemed a little warmer, his touch more deliberate when he’d hand you something or brush past you. You could feel it, too—this electricity between you that made your heart race just a little bit faster when you caught his gaze.

And now, with only a few days before the end of term, you found yourself anxiously awaiting his usual teasing banter, his ever-present grin, and the small moments that made you feel like you were the only one in the room. But there was something else you hadn’t expected—a question that had lingered in his eyes during your last conversation.

“Hey, um, got a minute?” George’s voice interrupted your thoughts, pulling you from your seat near the windowsill in the Gryffindor common room. He looked a little out of breath, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told you it wasn’t from running to catch up with you.

You smiled, your curiosity piqued. “What’s up, George?” you asked, leaning back against the armrest.

George paused for a second, biting his lip as though choosing his words carefully. The playful George you knew seemed to be nowhere in sight for a brief moment, replaced by a quiet intensity that left your stomach fluttering.

“I—” He stopped, running a hand through his untamed red hair, an action that seemed almost habitual for him. “I was wondering if... well, if you’d like to spend the summer with us. At the Burrow. You know, my family and I.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

You blinked, surprised. You’d spent enough time around George to know that he was close with his family, but the Burrow was another world entirely—a place of warmth, chaos, and undeniable familiarity. The Weasley family had always been welcoming, but the idea of spending an entire summer with them felt different.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, your heart beating just a bit faster. “You want me to spend the summer at the Burrow?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual, the surprise lingering in your tone.

George nodded, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I thought it might be fun. You know, quidditch, helping Mum in the kitchen… just all of us together.” He paused, and his eyes finally met yours, his expression a mix of hope and uncertainty. “It’ll be… well, it’ll be a laugh, honestly.”

You considered it for a moment. The Burrow was everything Hogwarts wasn’t—alive with noise, full of energy and love, the scent of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking always drifting through the halls. You knew George’s family well, of course, but the idea of staying there for the entire summer… it felt like something more. A chance to get to know him in a completely different way.

“I’d love to,” you said, surprising even yourself with how quickly you’d agreed. The smile that spread across George’s face made your heart skip a beat.

“Brilliant,” he said, his voice lighter now, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I’ll let Mum know. It’ll be perfect. Trust me.”

The days between that conversation and the start of summer passed in a blur. You packed your things, said your goodbyes to friends, and made the long journey home to pack for the Burrow. Every time you thought about what awaited you, your stomach fluttered—anxiety, excitement, and anticipation all mixing into a cocktail of emotions that you couldn’t quite control.

When you finally arrived at the Burrow, the familiar house loomed before you, crooked and charming, just as you remembered. You could already hear the sounds of laughter, the faint clatter of Mrs. Weasley’s pots and pans in the kitchen, and Fred’s loud voice somewhere nearby, no doubt dragging Ron into some kind of mischief.

George was waiting by the front door, looking casually dressed but impossibly handsome, as always. He greeted you with an easy grin, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

“Welcome to the madness,” he said, his tone teasing. “I hope you’re prepared.”

You smiled, taking in the sight of him. “I think I’m ready,” you replied, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence settle around you.

The summer at the Burrow was everything you’d imagined and more. Every day felt like an adventure—whether it was joining Fred and George in the backyard for impromptu quidditch matches, or helping Molly Weasley cook dinner in the kitchen, the air always filled with laughter, chatter, and the unmistakable feeling of belonging.

One afternoon, after another exhausting yet exhilarating round of quidditch in the garden—where you, George, Fred, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all taken turns trying to outdo each other on brooms—you found yourself leaning against the side of the house, winded and laughing, your heart still racing from the thrill of the game.

George leaned against the same wall, only a few inches away from you, his breath still coming in quick bursts as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His gaze shifted toward you, the smile on his face softening as he caught his breath.

“That was brilliant,” he said, his voice low and amused, eyes gleaming with something more than the usual mischief. “You’ve got a knack for it, you know.”

You laughed, trying to catch your breath. “You weren’t too bad yourself. Though, I think Fred might have cheated on that last goal.”

George chuckled, a warm, rich sound that made your heart flutter. “Fred? Cheat? Never,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder.

The moment lingered between you, the easy banter fading into something more quiet, something more... tender. You caught the way George’s eyes drifted down to your lips for the briefest moment, and your pulse quickened in response. The air between you seemed to crackle, the space that had once felt so comfortable now charged with something unspoken.

But just as the tension started to feel palpable, Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen, her voice cutting through the moment like a bell.

“Dinner’s ready, everyone! Come inside before you all turn into bludgers from that heat!”

With a sigh, George straightened up, his easy grin returning. “Guess that’s our cue,” he said, nudging you again.

You followed him into the house, your heart still racing. Dinner was loud, chaotic, and filled with warmth. George’s family was as inviting and as loving as ever, and yet, the tension between you and George was undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface.

After dinner, as everyone helped clean up and prepare for dessert, you found yourself alone in the kitchen with George, both of you trying to dry dishes in a hurry so you could sneak outside for a bit of fresh air.

“So,” George said, his voice quieter now, his usual playful tone replaced with something more serious, “I’m glad you came. I know it’s a bit mad, but it feels right having you here.”

You looked at him, feeling that same fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad I came, too.”

There was a long pause, the quiet between you filled only with the sound of the dishes clinking. Then, almost as if drawn by some invisible force, George reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was soft, deliberate, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“George…” you whispered, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to even begin to explain what you were feeling.

He stepped closer, his hand resting on the counter beside you. “I—” he started, but the words seemed to fail him. He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, and for a brief moment, everything felt suspended in time.

And then, without another word, he leaned in. His lips brushed yours gently at first, testing the waters, and when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, the warmth of his lips melting away the tension that had built between you. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, and everything else—the house, the noise, the family—faded into the background.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and laughing softly, George grinned, his forehead resting against yours. “Well, that was… long overdue,” he said, his voice hushed but full of amusement.

You laughed too, a quiet, contented sound, as your hands found their way to his. “Yeah,” you agreed, “it definitely was.”

And there, in the warm kitchen of the Burrow, amidst the chaos of the Weasley family, you both found something that was beyond friendship, beyond the games and laughter. It was something real—something you were both ready to explore, no matter how much it made your heart race.

“can you tell me what’s my flavour?”