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multifandomgirl08 · 1 year ago

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Prologue [Mini Verstappen Series]

Max Verstappen x Daniel Ricciardo (Platonic)

Summary: Max finds out that he had a son. And it changes his world.

Warning(s): Mention of adoption, Jos Verstappen

A/N: This is set before the first part of Mini Verstappen.

Words: 1.6k

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Max’s life had been completely turned upside down. It had only been an hour since he had gotten the news.

He was a father.

Daniel had been over at his apartment when his manager had called him and told him that a woman had dropped off a baby with a note for a Max Verstappen. Max didn’t want to believe it; he couldn’t be a father at the age of 23. That wasn't possible. His ex had ended the relationship, and while he hadn't been in love, he had cared for her.

"Max, you, okay?" Daniel asked as he dropped his phone on the couch.

"No." He said staring off into the distance, his eyes unfocused in front of him.

"What did Raymond call you about?"

"I... I..." He tried to get out. "I have... a son."

Max looked right at Daniel. He saw his eyes go wide in disbelief. It's nice to know that his former teammate felt the same way about his news.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Max answered honestly. “But I’m sure my father will have some ideas.”

Max wasn’t sure he would enjoy hearing those ideas.

The drive over to Raymond’s office was quiet with no one talking, Daniel didn’t even both turning on music to cut some of the tension.

Daniel parked the car, and they made their way up to the office seeing a gold plaque on the door with the words.

Raymond Vermeulen

Max had walked into the room seeing that Raymond’s assistant wasn’t at her desk. He slowly made his way into the room where Raymon’s desk was and saw his father sitting on the far chair, as far away from the baby carrier that was next to Raymond’s desk.

“Max.” Raymond spoke.

Jos was the first one up, his eyes moving to Daniel for a millisecond.

“I thought I told you to tell no one.” Jos barked.

“He was with me when Raymond called. He won’t say anything.” Max was quick to defend Daniel. “It’s not like we’re teammates still.”

Jos took a small step back. Why did he think that Daniel was going to say something? Did he not trust his judgment at all?

“So?” Max said waiting for the two oldest men to explain.

“It seems that Amelia was pregnant when you ended things.” Amelia; his ex-girlfriend Amelia. They had parted ways on good terms when they had ended things a little under a year ago.

“She’s left you the baby.” Raymond finished.

“Can I see the baby?” Max asked.

Jos immediately tensed up.

“No.”

Max glared at his father. No? So, he just needed to accept that his ex had birthed a child that he didn’t get to see.

Max shook his head and walked over to the carrier, he peaked inside to see a baby, with a small wisp of blond hair and blue eyes that seemed to be falling closed every few seconds, covered by a large blue blanket with F1 cars making up the pattern. If he didn’t know better, he would think that he was looking at himself when he was a baby.

He reached into the carrier and pulled the baby out, laying him down in his arms, moving to the couch to get a better look at him.

Why hadn’t Amelia told him that she was pregnant?

“I showed up to my office this morning to look over some contracts for the new sponsorship that we’re looking to sign for you. A few minutes after I got in, there was a knock at the door, and the carrier was sitting there. I looked in, and I swore Max. It was like seeing you when you were a baby again. I called you, and then Jos right after.” As Raymond broke down how the child had been dropped off, Max could only sit there and listen.

Daniel was standing at his side, occasionally looking into the bundle.

Raymond finished up talking about how he saw an envelope addressed to Max. “I saw Amelia’s handwriting on an envelope and opened it to see the birth certificate.”

Everyone fell silent at the mention of the birth certificate.

“You can’t keep him.” He heard but he didn’t truly know from who as he seemed to space out for a second. It was probably his father talking.

"We go through all of the channels. Have people sign NDAs, get a DNA test, make sure the media never finds out, and then put the child up for adoption." He heard his father continue.

As Max was sitting on the sofa in Raymond's office looking at the child, all he could think was how much he looked like him. The chubby cheeks, blue eyes, their hair color was almost the same given how little the baby had.

"That's not your decision to make," Raymond said. This was one of the few times he was glad his manager said something to his father.

"Tell him you want to give the baby up," This is the closest thing he’ll get to his father asking him to be smart about this and give the baby up. Max looked up from the bundle of blankets. "You give him up, and the problem goes away."

"He's not a problem, he's a baby." Max heard Daniel say.

As Max watched on, his father seemed like he already had this all planned out in his head. Like he knew that this would happen.

Max didn't want to let go of him, his son.

"I'm not giving him up," Max said.

Raymond's shoulders deflated at his words. Yes, having a child would cause problems, but it would cause more problems if people found out he had a child by someone he used to date and then didn't acknowledge them.

"You don't even know if he's yours." His father spewed quickly switching to Dutch so that Daniel couldn’t understand. His father cutting Daniel out of this conversation was cruel.

"He looks like me. Who else's child could he be?" He rhetorically asked.

"After everything that I did to prevent this..." He heard his father mutter under his breath. He knew?

"Prevent this? Are you telling me that you knew about this and didn't want me to find out that I would be a father?" Max was quick to hand the bundle of blankets over to Daniel before getting into his father's face.

"It would fuck up your career. You winning a championship is the most important thing right now." There was a high-pitched wailing from the baby.

Max wanted to yell at him. Winning a championship could wait. Who knew what was going to happen this coming season with the car? It could be horrible once the season started. But the child that Daniel was holding couldn't wait. It was going to depend on him every day.

"Tell me you didn't know about this. That you didn't do something so that I wouldn't find out about him." All Max was hoping for was his father's honesty. Not that he got it before, but just this once he wanted his father to treat him like a human being.

"I gave her money so that she would go away. She was a distraction." His father was an asshole, this just confirmed it. "I didn't think she would want to have the baby."

"Get out," Max said as calmly as he could. "Leave, and don't come back."

"Max." His father started to say.

"I want you to leave me with my son and never show your face at another race ever again." He looked him dead in the eyes, so his father knew that he was serious. Jos Verstappen was dead to him.

Max couldn't deal with him. He shook his head watching as his father left them alone. His father had tried to pay off his ex because she was pregnant. What was wrong with him?

Max walked closer to Daniel seeing him cradle the baby. Shit. He was a father. He lightly reached over and stroked the baby's cheek.

"I guess your father's plan is not how you want to deal with this?" His manager asked.

"No, but we do need to call Christian and Helmut and tell them. This was a surprise to me, imagine how it will be for them." He hoped he didn’t lose his Red Bull seat over this.

"You don't have to do it today, Max," Daniel said. "Worry about it tomorrow, just spend the day with your son."

Daniel was a great friend to Max, more than he deserved at times.

"Okay, we can call them tomorrow." He said. Max moved back to the sofa before Daniel put the baby back in his arms.

"Does he have a name?" Daniel asked.

Raymond was quick to reach for a small stack of papers and then held up what he assumed was the birth certificate.

"It says Nico, Nico Verstappen."

Even though Amelia had given Nico up, Max was grateful that she had chosen a good name for his son.

“Nico,” Max muttered to himself as Nico’s fussing seemed to dissipate.

“There are two letters that were left for you with him. One addressed to you and another to Nico.” Amelia wrote him a letter? Probably explaining her choices, but the one for Nico he would leave. That wasn’t meant for him.

As Max’s eyes met Nico’s, he finally understood why his mother did the things that she did when he was growing up. Max wanted to do right by Nico and that meant giving him a life with a parent who loved him with everything that he had.

“How do you want to deal with your father?” Raymond asked.

“I don’t care, blacklist him from everything if you have to.” His father didn’t deserve to be in his life. Jos gave no consideration to how he would feel about being a father. So, he would give him just the same.

From now on he was going to worry about his son.

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #mini verstappen series #mv1 imagine #mv33 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine

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everything-fine-n-peachy · 7 months ago

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agree to disagree (z.cl)

pairings: zhong chenle x reader genre: high school angst summary: y/n thinks chenle has the biggest head on the planet (literally and figuratively) and chenle is a boy with a crush and a lot of issues to work through.

warning: slight mention of parental neglect and ensuing anxiety

You hated Chenle’s guts.

There was just something about this boy that made your eyes roll every single time he was with you in the same room. You had to agree that there were perks to haveing someone as affluent as Chenle in your grade. The sponsorships from his family during school events meant that teachers were inevitably more lenient. But behind this so called generosity, you could clearly see the humble brag that he was.

Everyone adored the fair skinned boy who liked to laugh obnoxiously loud with his friends who all wore rolex watches. There was an undeniable envy behind the thin veil of admiration that everyone seemed to have though. Except you, ya’ll stay safe.

You knew it since day one of the 7th grade when the teacher announced elections for class officers a week prior. Elections that you intended to win. The next day Chenle showed up with a bag of lollipops for everyone, automatically securing him a win as president of the class while you lost with less than five votes to your name.

It wasn’t to say that he did a lousy job. But he wasn’t going to silently work behind the scenes, no. He liked to make everyone aware of his status and wealth in the most subtle of ways. Free snacks whenever he felt like it, free entrance at the golfclub their family owned, and souvenirs for everyone from when he would go overseas with his grandparents. And you hated it. The feeling of being treated as a charity case. Like this boy thought he could buy everyone’s love. But not you.

“I hope everyone enjoys the free handwash mom says they cost a lot,” he announced. You with the long French braid and mouth full of braces promptly had enough by then.

You approach him with your irritation having reached it’s limit within your stature of four-feet-eleven. “If you’re always going to tell us how expensive everything is, then I think you should just shut up,” you spat, shoving the pink paper packing into his chest. You walk away with satisfaction as Chenle muttered crap about how it was from the tropical islands of whatever country you couldn’t pronounce.

Your hate was was palpable across the entire grade for the next five years. Everyone knew that you and Chenle didn’t mix except maybe your 12th grade English teacher.

“Class this is just for the first term. No one is being forced to sign a marriage certificate so I would appreciate if everyone cooperated with their partner,” Ms. Son commented as she flashed the list of pairs on the screen in front.

You visibly frowned, “you gotta be kidding me.” Jaemin, who sat next to you tried to contain his laughter upon realizing that you had in fact been paired-up with Chenle. Ms. Son eyes anyone who dared to complain before explaining the project. “I want each pair to pick a topic that you disagree on. For the next nine weeks I want you to come up with a presentation on how communication skills will help you understand a different perspective.”

Murmurs fill the room. Some of your classmates are excited. Many are quite bored and just wish the bell would ring. You are downright fumming at Chenle’s audacity to wave at you from across the room when your eyes meet.

On the first meeting you drag yourself into the library for the inevitable. Chenle lounges lazily on one of the bean bags, engrossed in his tablet. You drop your things on an empty table before clearing your throat.

“I think the sooner we get this over with the better,” you say with a tight lipped expression. He agrees before standing up and joining you on the table.

You notice him studying you and can’t help but fumble with your pencil and notebook. “Why are you looking at me?”

“I just can’t figure out why you hate me so much,” he mutters more to himself than to you.

“We’re here to discuss the assignment.” you pointedly respond before proceeding to go over some of the topics you wanted to tackle. As you’re reading off the list you notice Chenle’s eyes linger on you a few times. You find the way he can keep eye contact unsettling but you push on wanting the assignment to be over sooner rather than later.

The good news was that you found plenty of topics that you disagree on. The bad news was that none of you could get through a conversation without picking a fight, well mostly you couldn’t get through a conversation without picking a fight.

You mutually decide that Renjun would be present on your second meeting. You both think maybe a mediator would help you. But not even 30 minutes in and Renjun’s hands are rubbing his cheeks in frustration.

“Let’s take this from the top shall we?” He reiterates,” you need to listen to each other first. Stop trying to win over each other.”

“I think there’s nothing wrong with using your connections to get farther in life, if I have an advantage why shouldn’t I use it?” Chenle states.

“If said advatange is within your reach because of privileges that you have, shouldn’t that be regulated by policy?” You bite back.

“They /are/ regulated by policy. Don’t companies have referals? Isn’t that even better since people are vouching for them?”

At this point Renjun let out an exasperated sigh. None of you were listening to each other, let alone him. “Guys, the pont of this assignment is to hear both sides. I need you to find some common ground,” he exclaims earning some looks from other kids in the lounge.

The two of you promptly stop arguing. Renjun sighs again, “you don’t actually disagree as much as you think.”

You snort in response, “yeah and Chenle just needs to get his big head back to earth to see that not everyone has a rich family who can get them places.”

“Why do you always act like that’s a bad thing?” Chenle retaliates.

“It’s a bad thing when you keep trying to buy your way through life!” you yell.

You visibly see Chenle shrink back into his chair. His face morphs into something you’re not sure of. Even you are a little surprised at yourself.

Chenle presses his lips together. He laughs to himself before speaking, “well, I don’t know what to say to that. But I have taekwondo training in five, so …”

You watch Chenle gather his stuff in silence. You stare hard at the blue metallic surface of the table long after Chenle is out the door.

“That was pretty mean even by your standards,” Renjun said. “I get that he’s annoying but isn’t that a bit unfair considering you barely know him?”

That night you stare up at the ceiling finding it hard to sleep. You toss and turn thinking about Chenle. You remember the boy who bragged about his thousand dollar drone, the boy who accidentally dumped his iphone in the pond and had a new one the next day, the boy who liked to tell people that money wasn’t a problem.

Then you also remembered that he was the boy whose parents didn’t show up to any ribbon ceremony, the kid who constantly brought nannies instead of family to his school shows, and the only one who hadn’t received a personalized letter from his mom or dad during the senior retreat in 10th grade.

You think you don’t really know Chenle as much as you’d like to think. Maybe you were the problem for allowing your 7th grade grudge get the best of you for the last five years. Maybe, you needed to give this project a chance by not sabotaging it nearly as much as you did.

You’re nervous when the third meeting comes up. Words have been scarce between you and Chenle but you at least have the decency to set up another meeting at the library. You’re a few minute early but soon five minutes turned into ten and ten turned into twenty. You attempted to text your partner but to no avail, you try and look for him yourself.

A few steps into the 12th grade corridor you hear shuffling in one of the rooms. Curious, you follow the sounds and find yourself face to face with Chenle who was in the process of pacing. You can’t help but notice that his hands shake a bit.

“Go away,” he says. When you don’t follow his command, he let’s out a shaky breath and a tiny laugh before slumping against the wall. You stand and watch as he sinks to the ground.

“You’re probably right. All I have going for me is my family and I can’t even please them. Can't win a medal, can't get on the merit list.”

You find yourself sitting next to him, leaning your head against the wall. Not quite sure what to respond, you let him drawl on.

“I don’t even like taekwondo,” he laughed to himself again.

“Why do you do it then if you don’t like it?”

“It’s the only tournament my dad ever attends.”

Your eyes look straight at the windows that offer a view of the sun setting beautifully in soft hues of pink and stark orange while you both bask in the misery of the moment.

“I got into university today. The university that they wanted for me so badly.”

“Do you want to go?”

“No,” he chuckled, covering his face with his hands.

“Then don’t go. You’re plenty smart I’m sure you’ll find a good university that you actually want to go to,” you reply turning your face to look at Chenle.

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “My parents have already paid for the first semester.”

There’s a long pause before Chenle speaks again. “I was thinking about what you said a couple of days ago. It kinda stung but it wasn’t something I heard for the first time.”

You unconsciously shift your position, uneasy at how Chenle’s demeanor changed from the last time you spoke to him with Renjun at the students’ lounge. He seemed so vulnerable, cocky have-it-all attitude all gone. Instead, a very much exhausted Chenle seemed to take his place.

“I don’t take any offense, don’t worry,” he assured you. “I just reaized for the first time that I actually let myself use my pain as an excuse. I parade this generational wealth around since that’s all it was ever good for.”

You feel yourself soften at his confession. Not that he was totally forgiven but it was a start. “That still isn’t an excuse for me being mean to you for the longest time. I apologize,” you mutter, eyes looking ahead.

“I guess we can call it even since I’ve been a jerk to you, too. Sorry bout that.”

You turn only to realize that Chenle was already looking at you. He had always been looking at you except you never did notice. He liked the way your eyes reflected the pretty sunset. Even after five years, his crush on you hadn’t worn off.

Truth be told, he pulled half the stunts he did to get your attention. Winning class president, giving away free strawberry hand soap because he had overheard that you liked the color pink, engaging you in arguments, and everything in between.

He knew from when you didn’t back down from him during class elections. Since then he only found more reasons to reaffirm his feelings with everything you do. His heart would skip a beat when your bright voice fills a room when you talk about social injustice, the way you were so proud of your dad, a teacher on career day, or the way you earnestly listen to your friends when they have something to say.

Chenle offers his hand, “to new beginnings?”

“To new beginnings,” you replied.

As you’re both standing up to leave you can’t help but feel the urge say something. “Chenle, about the university. I guess there won’t be any harm if you honestly tell your parents that you don’t want to go. Just a suggestion,” you offer with your palms raised.

For the first time, you experience Chenle smiling at you. Like, really smiling at you. You aren’t particularly sure why but you notice the crinkle of his eyes and the lopsided curve of his lips and you can’t help but feel endeared.

“Well, there’s that,” he says. “But I’m hungry. We should order pizza.”

You nod in reply, “as long as you aren’t getting them with pineapples, I’m down.”

Chenle’s eyes widen as he slowly lowers his phone, “you don’t like pineapples on pizza?”

“They’re disgusting, no.”

“But they bring out all the other flavors!” he exclaims.

You smile at him while he continues to tap on his phone. As you walk down the corridor you think- no, you feel that something has changed and even if you wouldn’t want to admit it, you were glad that it did.

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” you finally said, putting one foot in front of the other.

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lexlawuk · 3 months ago

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delulustateofmind · 6 months ago

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Potions & Shadows (Part II)

Summary: An old neighbor of Feyre's is revealed to be not who they seemed when Feyre was a child. Leadign to Feyre needing the once village apothecaries help. Inspired by Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

A/n: This part is more background heavy to build up the plot a bit. Hybern in the books doesn't have a lot to build off of so I'm going to try to make him a greater villain tbh. At least make him a bit more feared. Thank you all for 100 follows btw!

Word Count: 3k

Part One, part two, part three. part four

Warmings: Mini trauma dump on Azriel, mentions of death.

Taglist: @cherry-cin, @sassybluebird, @aehllitas-blog

I shouldn’t enjoy doing this. what the hell is wrong with me

Is what Azriel had thought as he stared at the documents laid out before him in the middle of the night. Rhysand assigned him to look into you the moment you arrived in the night court. Of course, Rhysand trusted his mate that you were a good person. But one could not be too eager about letting someone foreign into the court. Also, it wasn’t like Azriel wasn’t curious about you. In fact, you were currently his muse. As you were easy to find information about, and perhaps in the future would inform you not to leave such an easy paper trail.

The sound of ruffling papers filled the room as he scanned the documents.

By all means, you were an outstanding citizen. You were top of your class at a prestigious mage academy on a sponsorship a hundred years ago. You kept your mage certification current and renewed it before it expired. Initially, Azriel had thought that your adventurer guild meant you would be a mercenary, however, he was wrong. As he sifted through the quests you took on, he saw that they were for small rewards- helping farmers, rebuilding villages. You paid your taxes on time and your home in Feyre’s village is fully paid for. Mother above, there was no hidden information about you except for an eighty-year period where he couldn’t find a single piece of evidence that you existed anywhere, aside from word of mouth that a young elf lived alone in the woods.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his face. You were too sweet—not even a small fine for failing to pay a toll. There was nothing bad about you, yet here he was, investigating your whole life, feeling like it was more for his own sake than for Rhysand's. A report sat in his hands that he had written about you for Rhysand, perhaps Rhysand would offer you a position in the inner circle. It wasn’t like a court mage would be bad, in fact, mages in Prythian were rare. A knock pulled him out of his thoughts. He opened the door to reveal Elain standing in the doorway.

“Elain, you should be asleep, it’s the middle of the night,” Azriel spoke lowly as he shifted to lean against the doorway, one of his wings blocking her view of the room behind him. It was a subtle gesture that would go unnoticed by her, as she spoke softly.

“I couldn’t sleep and I saw your light, so I figured I would come to check on you, you seemed distracted at dinner tonight,” Elain looked nervous as she looked up at Azriel whose eyes softened. Perhaps he was getting a soft spot for mortals. Yet, neither of you was truly mortal. You smelled like one, with a faint scent of blossoms, you seemed fragile like one but your eyes spoke of an immortality of knowledge. Had he been staring for too long into the distance because Elain’s soft voice pulled him away again, “Azriel? I asked if you wanted to walk with me to the gardens?” Azriel brought himself to look at the once mortal in front of him. There was no doubt she was beautiful, becoming fae just heightened those features and the way she looked at him, spoke something. Yet, when he looked at her, he had wished it were you asking him to escort you to the gardens or whatever hell you tasked him to do.

What in the hells have you done to him, he had just met you yet he felt like something was pulling him to you.

“I cannot tonight,” Azriel offered a small smile, one that caused Elain to stiffen as she looked away, a gesture that did not go unnoticed, “When I return from the camps tomorrow, I will join you though” he answered softly as she nodded and offered a goodnight before she went back to her quarters. Azriel gently closed the door, his shadows caressing his frame and mentions of sleep in their whispers. Azriel rubbed his eyes before finishing the report and heading to a short slumber.

****

In the morning when Azriel walked out of his quarters strapped in his Illyrian leathers, Cassian was waiting down the hallway, leaning against the wall.

“You hate the camps, is this healer cute or something” Cassian flashed a grin, but his expression changed when he noticed Azriel flash him an annoyed look, “Given her race, I don’t want her to have trouble at the camps. If those potions break, we will be behind schedule for the war. It has nothing to do with how ‘cute’ she is” Azriel mentioned with a smile tugging his lips as he gave Cassian a gentle nudge with his wing as he made his way past to head out for the day.

Cassian nodded a small smile still on his face, though Azirel sensed that his brother wasn’t waiting for him this morning. Cassian’s eyes flicked towards the eldest Archeron sister’s room, perhaps Cassian was waiting for a meeting with a viper.

****

Meanwhile, at the healer’s cottage, you were carefully packing potions and elixirs into crates. With your staff in hand, you guided various bottles to float gently into three crates, the soft clinks of glass filling the room. As you worked, Madja entered.

“One of the members of the court is going to escort you. These Illyrians can be… unwelcoming to folk like yourself. Better safe than sorry kid,” she said, her tone awkward. She avoided meeting your gaze, but you understood her concern. You knew you were different and that the Fae in these parts might not be kind to you. Offering Madja a soft smile and a nod, you continued your preparations.

Once the crates were filled and securely clasped shut, you used your magic to float them into the main room of the cottage. Madja followed quietly as the front door opened, revealing Azriel and his shadows. His wings were tucked in tightly as he entered, his gaze immediately locking onto you and your staff. Your watercolor eyes met his golden ones that hid behind his dark curls that fell just above his eyes as you gently set the crates down and desummoned your staff.

Azriel felt his heart tug when he saw you. His shadows seemed intrigued, attempting to pull away from his grasp and head towards you. Azriel just held onto them tighter, not letting them dare touch you.

So pretty, pretty little mage, the shadows whispered to him. They spoke of your mixed heritage, and your connection with nature, and reminded him of your humanity. So fragile their whispers ceased when he waved them off. As he looked at you, he did not have a clue what you were thinking as you gazed at the talons on top of his wings.

“You probably might want to winnow, I fear flying will be a bit difficult. Even with your mage magic y/n,” Madja said, nodding your way. However Azriel was not paying attention as once he finally heard your name, it sung like a prayer in his mind. Finally a name for that pretty face. Azriel picked up the three crates with ease.

“Can you winnow?” He asked, Azriel was unfamiliar with mages as they were quite rare in Prythian, their magic was different than the fae, as mages were limited to spells. You shook your head in response. Azriel simply balanced the three crates in one hand, as he extended his other hand to you.

“I can winnow us to a point, but it will be a mile or two of walking. Can you handle that?” Azriel stated softly. You seemed so fragile as you placed your small hand into his large one. He had been around full-blood humans in the past and knew how fragile they were. Elves weren’t much different besides their mana making them only somewhat stronger than humans. Azriel wondered where you may lay between the two.

“I’ll be okay, I’m used to traveling,” offering him a reassuring smile. Within seconds, shadows swirled around you both as you winnowed to the middle of the woods a few miles outside the Illyrian camp.

You stood a couple feet smaller than him, his shadows whispered, So petite, so fragile. With a wave of your hand, you summoned your staff, a crescent moon on top of with a glittering blue stone hanging from the crest. The magic lifted the crates from his arms as you both walked. A smile tugged Azriel’s lips as he clasped his hands behind his back slowing his pace to match your stride.

Time to fill in the gaps of his knowledge about you. He struck up a conversation, an interrogation of sorts, “How did you become a mage?” Azriel spoke softly, his voice a melody to your ears as you sheepishly glanced back at him. You feared that if you looked at him for too long, you would fall for this deadly presence, for whatever reason every instinct in your body feared him yet a part of you wanted to be closer. A new emotion seemed to fill you with every glance you sent his way.

You released a sigh as your gaze shifted to the large pine trees that grew along the dirt path, “When I was young, I was saved by a human mage,” Human mages were something that had only occurred in the continent. The continent had a more progressive approach by human and fae standards, allowing humans to practice magic if they had the mana for it. Meanwhile, the human villages in Prythian still feared the presence of magic.

“Saved?” Azriel echoed as he glanced at you. He knew most of the Elven villages were burned by Hybern centuries ago, by the thousands, Hybern had sought to eradicate most of the elves because of their high amounts of mana, a possible threat to fae kind. Whoever wasn’t killed, he had them as slaves wearing collars that stripped them of their mana.

“Hybern’s generals still wreak havoc in the continent,” you murmured with your gaze still on the path, “My entire village was slaughtered one night when one of his generals arrived, many of the people in my village were half-breeds like myself, my mentor, the human mage found me that night after the war party had left,”

Azriel looked at your face, expecting to see a sad expression. Instead, he found a look that was unreadable, devoid of emotion. Not even your eyes revealed your thoughts.

“I never got your name,” You spoke as your gaze shifted to meet his lingering one, “or what you do for the court.” Azriel looked ahead to the path. They were nearing the camp soon enough.

“It’s Azriel. My position, however, is a secret,” he said quietly, bringing a finger to his lips. “You can just assume that I do a lot of paperwork. A boring position, really.”

A lie, you thought as you looked into his eyes. From your time as an adventurer, you had learned to read people. One thing you learned was to look into a person’s eyes to discern who they truly were. Azriel’s eyes revealed much more; they showed that he had done many unsavory acts, perhaps with killing being the least brutal. His golden eyes, like a pot of honey, hid a sinister predator behind their warm facade.

One of his shadows moved to twirl around your wrist at his command. You jumped a little at the cool, silk-like touch of the shadow. “We are nearing the camp. I will take the crates to the camp leader. You will stay here by this tree,” Azriel commanded. He was not asking you to stay; he was telling you to. The shadow seemed to serve as either a way for him to track your location or to signal that you were his companion in case any other Illyrians came near. You made a mental note that Illyrians seemed to be territorial or overprotective.

You desummoned your staff as Azriel grabbed the crates and carried them the rest of the way to camp. Sitting down next to a tree, you waited for him. Around half an hour later, you felt a brush of wind against you as Azriel landed. His wings outstretched before tucking in behind him, instilling a sense of awe within you.

“You don’t have fae senses, do you?” he asked quietly. You shook your head as he helped you up from the ground. If you did, you would have sensed him the moment he was within a few feet of you. “Can you detect scents either?” he asked. Another shake of your head. You mentioned that you could detect mana, but only if it was from another mage or a magical creature. Azriel made a note of that, perhaps feeling thankful for your lack of senses. This way, you couldn’t sense how his heart pounded every time you met his gaze.

“Would you like a tour of Velaris?” he asked, “I promise I won’t drop you in flight,” he added with a hint of amusement. You looked at him and then at his wings as he stretched them slightly. A fear still instilled within you.

“I should help Madja with preparations…” you whispered. Azriel listened to your soft voice, noting the fear behind your words. He smiled—a genuine smile that he reserved only for his family. A smile that heightened his beautiful features, causing you to look away. “I promise I will go slow. It won’t be so bad, I assure you,” Azriel said, hearing your heart pounding. You were nervous. Were you scared to be near him?

“Another time,” you responded finally, grabbing his hand without a thought. “For now, can you winnow me back to the healer’s cottage?”

“Of course,” he said. With that, he led you back to the cottage, shadows swirling around you both as you disappeared from the forest and reappeared at the healer’s door. You waved him goodbye as he bowed slightly at the waist, causing a warmth to form on your cheeks when you saw his dark curls fall above his eyes that seemed to pierce you.

“Until next time, y/n,” Azriel spoke softly before he took off into the skies, his wings outstretched as if they were big enough to block the afternoon sun, powerful enough to rustle the trees. Such a powerful creature, you thought as you entered the cottage.

*****

Azriel took off to Rhysand’s office to drop off the report on the new healer. As he arrived, he found Rhysand at his desk, poring over piles of paperwork in preparation for the upcoming High Lords' meeting. Azriel observed the signs of stress on Rhysand—his disheveled hair, evidence of having run his fingers through it one too many times, and the dark circles under his violet eyes.

Rhysand glanced up as Azriel entered the room. “How was the camp?” he mused with a hint of amusement. “And the healer?”

Azriel smirked as he took a seat across from Rhysand, crossing one leg over the other and letting his wings drape behind him. “Camp was decent. Devlon scented her on the bottles and was asking if the humans were slaves again,” Azriel said, rolling his eyes. The healer's intoxicating scent still lingered on him, not that he minded. Rhysand muttered "Illyrian bastards" under his breath as he signed another document.

Azriel continued, “As for the healer, I have my report done. She’s a bit more closed off in person but leaves a paper trail. Overall, a good citizen. Only eighty years after her mage exam is left without any trail of her existence.” Azriel glanced at the document Rhysand was reading—something about budgets. “I have a feeling that was around the time her mentor passed away. Her mentor was human, after all.”

“From the continent then? Do you feel like she’s strong? From what Madja has praised, she’s a damn good healer,” Rhysand said, looking up.

Azriel nodded before continuing, “A first-class mage, one of the six that still remain. I can’t sense any magic or mana on her. I have a feeling she is suppressing it at all times—a skill even most fae can’t master.” Azriel smirked slightly. A damn good mage indeed.

“Your call then, Az,” Rhysand replied. “Is she a threat? Feyre wants her to come to dinner. Perhaps it would make her sisters feel more at ease with someone familiar around. Preferably Nesta,” Rhysand grimaced slightly with his last comment.

Azriel looked at his scarred hand that once held your soft, dainty one. “Not a threat at all,” he murmured.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #acotar azriel #shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger

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leftneb · 14 days ago

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oh my god putting ur username on one of lando's sponsorship logos in your last post,,,, your mind,,,,

also i'm SO feral about your art isn't fucking funny, i can't stop staring at the lighting 💖 💖 💖

okay so for u I wanted to make a comprehensive list of every. single. time. I've done that in my... 5-ish months of drawing F1 fanart but it ended up being a more daunting task than I'd anticipated ANYWAYS here it is:

starting off with my personal favorite (and rarest) category - abstract, there's pretty much only one of these each they're very fun to cook up (and usually illegible but that's beside the point)

the left-neb arm sponsors variation is by far the most common, but sometimes I write it out fully if there's enough space

this specific style of 'Neb' is also very common, I split the category in 3 - FiA certificate, Hilton logo, and freestyle

as you can tell. I'm normal about watermarks

I also dug up this very very old compliation of watermarks which is probably uninteresting to anyone who isn't me but I'm putting it here anyways (shoutout to the ones in japanese and the hungarian runes I miss using those)

#and THANK YOUUU LIQUID that's the most fun I've had with a piece in like. weeks. I'm happy I could deliver for u😭#and bonus points if you can connect any of these to a specific piece #neb qna #neb core #watermarks

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anexperimentallife · 2 months ago

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On any other social media site, having over 20K followers MIGHT get me some kind of (very minor) sponsorship deal or job offer lol; here it means I more hate mail about being in a mixed-race marriage with @thesurestthing (and at least one disrespecting her by refusing to even acknowledge our marriage), and getting hate for being a disabled dad who should have somehow known before our little girl was born that I was going to get COVID several times. Oh, and of course, the occasional insult (or disgusting threat) to my baby daughter.

BUT... it ALSO means that when a paperwork snafu on our daughter's birth certificate left her stateless and threatened to legally force us to leave her in a foreign country, and when we had various medical emergencies, 20K people had our back and helped us cover the expense of fixing things. (We're still 15K in debt from all that, but at least we are able to stay alive and together, so I call that a win.)

And to be clear, the supportive folks FAR outnumber the haters.

So yeah, still my social media site of choice by a long shot. I can't even imagine the hate on Twitter.

And I'm still sick so I'm going back to sleep.

#uncle rob says stuff

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find-roronoa-zoro · 6 months ago

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Roronoa Zoro X CisFem Reader

"Thank you." you blushed taking the bag.

"It isn't much." he shrugged thumbing some flour off your cheek, "Things got messy in the kitchen?"

You glanced down at yourself, teal apron spattered with flour and bits of pie filling.

"I was in charge of desserts." you rubbed your nape, "Anyway, come in I have something for you too."

Taking your apron off, you hung it in the kitchen and continued toward the stairs, Zoro following closely shrugging out of his coat. You opened your bedroom door and motioned him inside as Ace passed by making lewd noises. The freckled male squeaked when you punched his chest and quickly apologized.

"Sorry, you know they're idiots." you closed the door behind you and placed your gift on your bed before reaching for a bag on your desk, "This is for you."

He raised a brow taking the silvery bag from you, it had some weight to it.

"Go ahead." you urged taking a seat with him on your mattress.

Quietly he reached into the bag and pulled out a rather expensive bottle of pearl saké and glanced at you.

"I felt like I should replace the plum one that I destroyed." you chuckled, "There's more."

"You didn't have to, I drank it too. And this is top shelf."

"It's rude to talk about how much a gift costs." you wagged your finger at him.

He shook his head at you and reached back into the bag feeling a large envelope and taking it out. It was just a plain white envelope no indication of what was inside. You watched anxiously as he slowly tore the seal and removed the cardstock inside.

It was a certificate with Zoro's name on it and a few blank spaces on Newgate Industries letterhead. You smiled at his adorable confused face.

"It's a certificate of sponsorship. The blank spaces will be filled in once you've opened your dojo, like the name and dates and what not."

"Sponsorship?" he echoed still very surprised.

"Yes, it'll make it easier to compete on a state and national level. Not to mention help with equipment and uniforms."

You had initially wanted to give him a donation, but you didn't want him to feel like it was charity after he's been working so hard to scrimp and save. Instead, you came up with the sponsorship which your brothers agreed to, as a sort of incentive to keep him moving toward his goal.

Zoro didn't know how to feel. He'd never received such an important gift, especially from someone with whom he had yet to define a relationship with. He almost felt overwhelmed that you believed in his dream enough to think so far ahead. It also made him feel like he could have some sort of future with you.

He had been quiet so long you started to feel that perhaps he didn't like it, maybe this came off too charitable as well.

You began to panic.

"O-of course, you don't have to accept if you wanted to seek sponsorship on your own. I-I'm not trying to interfere with your hard work, which I admi-" his hand came up over your mouth as he leaned in to peck your nose.

"Shut up, this is perfect." he removed his hand and softly kissed your lips, "Thank you."

You chuckled shyly. This guy could go from sheep to tiger too quickly, it was dangerous for your heart.

"You're welcome." you murmured.

"Well I guess it's only fair if you open mine," he scooted the bag toward you, "just keep in mind it was last minute and I usually suck at this stuff."

"I'm sure whatever it is, is fine." you smiled diving into the gift bag.

A silver picture frame faced away from you. You thought it was rather unusual, though there were tons of framed photos in the house, not many people deviated from posting something digital on social media and leaving it at that. Slowly you pulled the frame out turning it toward you to see what you thought would be some random stock photo they usually sell in those sorts of things. Instead, you were shocked with a wave of both intense happiness and something akin to sorrow.

The photo in the frame had been taken the night before, judging by the angle he had taken it from his seat at the fire pit. The candid shot was during your dance with Pops. The strands of Christmas lights providing the perfect amount of warm light to capture a moment of laughter between the two of you.

You only had a few recent pictures of yourself and your father from his visits to London while you were living there. For some reason, this seemed more precious than any of those, perhaps because neither of you were aware it was being taken. Knowing these moments now had a limit made it bittersweet.

Zoro cleared his throat drawing your attention up to his concerned expression, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I-I'm not up-set," You hiccupped, "just surprised."

His right hand came up to cup your face as he brushed the fresh tears from your cheek with his thumb. It really bothered him that his gift caused such a mixed reaction ultimately ending in tears, you really were too sweet for this world. He knew you really loved it, but also making you cry was not his intent.

"I'm sorry." you whispered, "I really adore it. I promise."

"I'm sorry for making you cry." he leaned against the wall and tugged you into a hug.

"I'm ok, really, see?" you pushed yourself off his chest to give him a better view of your face.

Your eyes were glossed over, your nose was red and your lips just a little pouty - absolutely adorable. His fingers brushed up the back of your neck pulling you back into his torso as he chuckled.

"You look terrible."

"So mean." you weakly patted his shoulder and snuggled into his chest.

The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes until you regained control of your emotions.

"Ugh, that's twice now you've seen me a crying mess." you groaned, "Thanks for being so sweet."

"That's what boyfriends do, right?" he kissed your scalp.

"Does this make it official, Tiger?"

"If you need more convincing..." he purred against the shell of your left ear.

Before you could respond there was a sharp knock on the door startling you both.

"If you're done sucking face, dinner is ready, yoi."

"Shut up." you called back sitting up, "We should go or there won't be any food left."

#one piece #the one #x reader #marco the phoenix #roronoa zoro #shanks #whitebeard pirates #zoro roronoa x reader #lyndsyh24 #slow burn

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