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cosmicallytiki · 2 years

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As soon as I saw Hazel from the Monster Road-trip DLC I fell in love. So much so I wanted to try and make a cookie after them. I tried to weigh out the grams as I concocted these but the cups are more accurate. Feel free to try an make these. They’re a funky take on an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie with a dash of warm fall spices.

Recipe:

1 1/4c (320g) Applesauce

1/2c(113g) Butter

1c (240g) Brown Sugar

2c (272g) Flour

2c (160g) Quick Oats

1 Egg

1/2tsp Baking Soda

1/2tsp Salt

1tsp Cinnamon

1/2tsp Nutmeg

1/4tsp Cloves

1tsp Vanilla

1c (160g) Semi Sweet Chocolate

1c (120g) Chopped Hazelnuts

*toast Hazelnuts for extra flavor

In a bowl combine the applesauce and baking soda. In another bowl combine your softened butter, sugar, spices, and vanilla, beat until fluffy. Add your egg in to the butter mix, beat until combined. Then gradually add in your applesauce. Next mix in your oats, then the salt and flour. Once mixed fold in your nuts & chocolate.

Bake at 350 F/175 C for 10-12 minutes.

#my art #monster prom #monster camp #monster roadtrip #monster roadtrip Hazel #monster prom hazel #moth monster #moth creature #moth #recipe #cookie recipe #recipe card #they’re such a cute character #they just like me fr #they’re just in moth form #making recipes is hard. tho I’m sure there’s something out there close to this. but I genuinely threw stuff together and recorded it #I just used my base knowledge that most cookies use 1c butter & 2 eggs; replaced 1/2 c butter & 1 egg with applesauce and then some #sugar is flexible and so is flour depending on what kind of cookie you want #baking is a science but that also means you can experiment :3c

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sagaofa-dying-star · 3 months

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Some PJO/HoO character theme songs:

Percy: Riptide-Vance Joy, Happy Place-SAINT PHNX

Annabeth: Might Not Like Me- Brynn Eliott

Jason: Thunder-Imagine Dragons, If You Love Her-Forest Blakk

Piper: Just A Girl-No Doubt

Leo: Just Like Fire-P!NK

Frank: Hall Of Fame-The Script

Hazel: Million Dollar Baby-Ava Max

Reyna: Sit Still, Look Pretty-Daya

Nico: Me And My Broken Heart-Rixton, Titanium- David Guetta+Sia

Calypso: Message In A Bottle-Taylor Swift, Give Your Heart A Break-Demi Levato

Percabeth: The Great War-Taylor Swift

Other: Legends Never Die-League Of Legends, Born For This-The Score, Could Have Been Me-The Struts

#riordanverse #peanut butter #percy pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #heros of olympus #the seven pjo #annabeth chase #jason grace #piper mclean #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #reyna avila ramirez arellano #nico di angelo

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kanerallels · 6 months

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Brief pause in the live blog while I fix the absolutely HORRENDOUSLY bland popcorn I bought the other night

#gotta add some butter and salt at LEAST #probably some cheese powder too cause now it's tradition #small spaces #reading and liveblogging with hazel

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beefbroganoff · 8 days

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Also I generally just prefer savory breakfast foods anyway, so it's not like I'm crossing the sweet/savory boundary anyway

#Pancakes are based though #even when I eat waffles I prefer to mix razor sharp cheddar cheese into the batter and top with butter #like Great Grandma Hazel used to do

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upontheroof-withaschoolgirlcrush · 1 year

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sakshi!! how are you??

Hazel!!! I'm all good! Have had dinner, wbu? Today studied sst and maths a bit. How are you bestie, which exam's coming up? Please remember to have butter and take care of yourself 🤗

#asks #hazel n butter

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astrum-medeis · 22 days

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Your perfume notes based on your Venus sign/2nd house (remaster)

Aries/1H

Masculine, heavy, sexy scents. Notes: tobacco, gasoline, leather, whiskey, pepper, cumin, smoke, vanilla, tonka bean

My recommendation: Replica Under the Stars (for the brave), Carolina Herrera Midnight or CH Very Good Girl

Taurus/2H

Feminine, natural and seductive scents. Scent notes: cocoa, shea butter, vanilla, caramel, musk, tonka bean, sugar

My recommendation: Eilish Billie Eilish or Sol de Janeiro 71 mist

Gemini/3H

Both masculine and feminine scents. Scents: sweets, florals, fruits

My recommendation: Ariana Grande Cloud, Mugler Angel Nova

Cancer/4H

Feminine scents. Scent notes: aquatic florals, ginger, cookies, cinnamon, sea breeze, sea salt, coconut, vanilla

My recommendation: Sol de Janeiro 71/39/62 mist or Sol de Janeiro perfume

Leo/5H

Masculine, luxurious and seductive scents. Scent notes: vanilla, champaca, cherry, rose, honey, saffron, cashmere

My recommendation: Valentino Born in Roma Intense or Carolina Herrera Very Good Girl Glam

Virgo/6H

Feminine, floral, sweet and fresh scents. Notes: linen, cotton, peony, rose, jasmin (basically your favourite flower scent), fruits

My recommendation: Miss Dior Rose N’Roses or Sol de Janeiro 68 mist

Libra/7H

Masculine but more like dark feminine femme fatale scents. Notes: jasmin, rose, vanilla, cashmere, coffee, dark chocolate

My recommendation: Carolina Herrera Good Girl

Scorpio/8H

Feminine but seductive and mysterious scents. Scent notes: coffee, dark chocolate, smoke, blood, black licorice, blackberry, witch hazel

My recommendation: Carolina Herrera Good Girl Velvet Fatale, Replica Coffee Break

Sagittarius/9H

Masculine, oriental and exotic scents. Notes: amber, wine, fig, orange blossom, incense, any wood

My recommendation: Replica On a date

Capricorn/10H

Masculine, expensive, strong, earthy scents. Scent notes: peppermint, citrus, eucalyptus, wet earth, leather, cash

My recommendation: Replica Under Lemon Tress

Aquarius/11H

Masculine, unique and strange scent combinations, nonobvious combinations of scent notes. Scent notes: any fresh scent like peppermint, citrus, aquatic and green notes, chlorine

My recommendation: Mugler Angel suits Aquarius SOOO well. It’s kinda like an alien scent. Very pretty but confusing.

Pisces/12H

Feminine, dreamy and sweet scents. Scent notes: honey, bubble gum, cotton candy, sweets, fruits

My recommendation: Ariana Grande Pink Cloud, Sol de Janeiro 68 mist

What is your venus sign and what scent do YOU like? Let me know!

#astro observations #astrology #astro notes #astro community #astroblr #astrology community #astrology observations #astrology notes #venus #venus signs

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these-empty-stars · 2 months

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The seven are diefied, but most of the cool stuff is already taken

Percy: god of pinky promises, fishhooks, and communal bathrooms

Piper: goddess of pilled crewnecks and malfunctioning security cameras

Annabeth: goddess of paperweights and missing hair ties

Frank: god of cranberry juice and lost pet posters

Jason: god of dryer static and mild concussions

Leo: god of monkey wrenches and ponzi schemes

Hazel: goddess of gold eyeliner, plastic jewelry, and colorful braces

also

Nico: god of snapped shoelaces and arcade claw machines

Will: god of underage medical malpractice

Reyna: goddess of plastic armor and peanut butter cookies

#heroes of olympus #percy jackson #jason grace #percy jackon and the olympians #leo valdez #hazel levesque #frank zhang #annabeth chase #piper mclean #pjo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #nico di angelo #will solace

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ptolemaeacles · 7 months

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pls write more for hazel omg i loved the cheerleader hcs maybe like a childhood best friends to lovers so lots of pining and smut maybe

♡ you belong with me

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

synopsis: hazel has had a crush on her best friend since they met in the 1st grade. they were freshman in college now and hazel realizes she can’t keep her feelings to herself anymore.

warnings: 18+ minors dni (both reader and hazel are 18), smut, childhood best friends to lovers, switch!hazel, switch!reader, top!reader, bottom!hazel (no pun intended), let me know if i missed anything!!

notes: aw thank you !!! im glad you liked the hcs. also small disclaimer, i'm a horrid smut writer and i rushed the ending because i didn't want to keep you waiting. hope you like !!!

word count: 2.5k

“god, i’m so excited. i mean this is the first time a girl has asked me out. usually it’s guys who approach me and then i get weird comments when i tell them i like women…” you rambled on but hazel could barely focus. she could only feel the empty pit in her stomach.

you were so happy to be going on a date and all she could think about is if you would ever be this excited to go on a date with her. she tried to convince you to not go but there was only so much she could do without giving her feelings away.

hazel thinks she’s loved you since the day she met you. before she knew what ‘love’ meant or what it looked like, she loved you. to her, you were the very definition of that word.

hazel’s hopeless crush started in the 1st grade. it wasn’t some cute interaction where one of you saved the other from a bully or something. it was simple with the both of you. it always has been.

you came up to her during lunch and told her you would give her half of your sandwich if she agreed to be your friend.

“what kind of sandwich is it?” hazel asked, from her seat on the lunch table.

“peanut butter and strawberry jelly.”

“i’m allergic to strawberries.”.

“then don’t eat it and just be my friend.” you sat next to her without another word and the both of you left it like that. simple.

since then, she knew she would never escape you. and she never wanted to. but right now, she felt like if you didn’t stop talking to her about this date, her head would explode.

hazel watched you walk around your room, shuffling through your closet for an outfit to the movies with the girl who asked you out. she never bothered remembering the girl’s name because she thinks it would the whole situation worse for her. she didn’t want to know anything about that girl.

“...and she said we’ll get ice cream later which i hope-” hazel interrupted you.

“hey, i think i should get home. my mom’s probably wondering where i am and shit, so… i’ll see you later.” hazel wanted to get away as soon as possible. not from you but from the giddiness she could practically feel radiating off your body at the thought of your date.

“oh.. i thought you told your mom that you were going to study at my place after classes?” you questioned. hazel’s quiet behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you. she was always quiet but after more than 10 years of friendship, you could tell which silences were good and which weren’t. this definitely wasn’t a good one.

“yeah well, we aren’t studying so. i’d better get going, bye.” she spoke in a flat tone, with her head down, as she grabbed her backpack and made her way out of your room.

you stood still, staring at the open door of your room and wondering if you had done something.

hazel walked into her house, red in the face and a vicious grip on the doorknob. she ran up to her room, and threw her backpack in a random corner, probably knocking her guitar down. but her guitar was the last thing on her mind.

she was pissed at you. mostly herself but you as well. she knew she had no right to be angry at you but how could you never see that hazel was right there. she was right in front of you, waiting for you to even glance in her direction. it’s all she wanted. to be the one who makes you laugh, the one who you’d think of when you saw romantic tiktok slideshows, the one who took you out on rollerblading dates, the one who got to kiss you before dropping you off back to your house, the one who got to slide her hand up your skirt, the one who got to be in between your legs-

she groaned and loudly, flopping onto her bed and stuffing her face in her pillow. she needed to apologize before her stupid feelings ruined your friendship.

hazel had a plan. she was going to go to your house after your date and apologize. apologize for being a dick, apologize for falling in love with you, apologize for every and anything she could apologize for so that you wouldn't hate her. she expected you to yell at her or ask her what was wrong with her. what she didn't expect was you to be calling her phone, right now.

she pressed the green 'accept' button and put the phone up to her ear.

"haze.." she could hear you sniffling through the phone, "i-, uh, can i come over, please? my date- it just- it went horribly and i really want to see you. please." hazel felt her heart drop 10 stories.

"yeah, yeah, i'll come pick you up, angel, where are you?" she questioned.

"outside your house."

hazel ran down the stairs and opened her front door, to be met with your red eyes and puffy face.

you immediately wrapped your arms around hazel, burying your face in her chest. her hands went landed themselves in your hair, stroking it gently in an attempt to comfort.

hazel helped you into her room, setting you down on her bed.

"do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

"she- she, um, she stood me up." you could barely get a sentence out without hiccuping. hazel reached over to her nightstand and pulled out an unopened water bottle, unscrewing the cap and handed it to you.

you whispered a thank you and took a few sips. it was hazel's turn to speak now.

"fuck her," you give her a confused look, "oh no, not fuck her, don't do that, i meant that you should just forget about her. she obviously isn't the one for you if she stood you up, and there are so many other people in the world-"

"hazel."

"yes?"

you didn't waste anymore time. you grabbed hazel's face in your hands and crashed your lips into hers.

hazel was sure this was a dream. there was no way you were kissing her right now. she definitely fell asleep and she's imagining this whole thing.

while hazel was having her loser lesbian crisis, you noticed that the kiss wasn't being reciprocated.

'fuck.' you thought. you just ruined your closest and longest friendship. you pulled away from her.

"shit, haze, i didn't mean to do that, i'm not sure what i was thinking-" you started but were quickly shut up when hazel pulled you back in for another kiss.

relief flooded your body. she wanted this. both of you wanted this.

hazel felt you smile into the kiss and took that as her 'go ahead'. she tilted her head, deepening the kiss. shyly, she moved her hand from her lap to your waist. you moved one of your hands to the side of her neck and the other in her hair. you could practically feel her pulse beating rapidly under your palm.

hazel gained a newfound confidence and pushed you back onto her bed, slotting herself between your legs. her lips hovered over your neck before attacking your neck with sloppy kisses. her lips trailed down your neck, making sure to savor the taste of you. her lips met the fabric of your blouse.

"can i take this off, please?" she asked in a breathy manner, as if she had just ran a marathon. you nodded, at a loss for words.

“need to hear you say it, baby. need to know you want it just as bad as i do.” hazel wasn’t aware how raspy her voice was, as if she hadn’t drank water in days.

“take it off, haze, please. take it all off.” you whispered and caught her lips with yours while she lifted your top off your body. once she had your top thrown in a random corner in her room, she went straight for your pants, not even bothering to take her own clothes off.

“fuck, hazel,” you were breathless, “i want to see you, too.” you swallowed, gripping the beige button up she was wearing, hoping she knew what you meant.

“you will, princess, don’t worry. i just want to focus on you right now, okay?” you nodded, not fully sure what ‘focusing on you’ meant.

hazel had you in just your bra and underwear, her eyes scanned your body hungrily. if this was a dream, she prayed she remembered every single moment when she woke up. you were better than any fantasy she could conjure up on those lonely nights, when she couldn't think of anything but you.

you felt her strong gaze settle on your body and you felt self conscious thoughts take the forefront of your mind. you raised your hands over your body, starting to think hazel didn’t want you like you wanted her.

“hey,” hazel grabbed your hands and gently pushed them to your sides, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you like this. how many nights i’ve stayed up thinking about you.” hazel started kissing down your neck, making her way to your chest.

she pulled your bra down, not even bothering to fully unhook it before latching her tongue down onto your right nipple.

the wet feeling of her mouth made you cry aloud, completely forgetting her mom (and jeff, too, probably) were a few feet down the hall.

hazel lifted her mouth of your tit with a pop, moving her hand to squeeze it instead.

“i’d love to hear you, angel, but i need you to be quiet,” she feverishly pecked your lips, “just tonight, hm?” you murmured a response, more concerned with the ache between your thighs than anything else.

you guessed hazel read your mind or something, as she started moving down the bed towards the place on your body that needed the most attention. she looked up to you, as if asking once more, if this was what you really wanted.

“haze, please.” you whined. that was all the confirmation she needed. she slid your panties down slowly, watching a string of wetness connect your pussy and your underwear. hazel felt herself growing wet at the fact that she did this to you. it filled her with a new sense of confidence. she didn’t even wait for your panties to completely slip off your legs before diving in between your thighs.

your back arched off the bed the moment you felt hazel’s tongue make contact with your swollen bud. she slipped her wet muscle throughout your folds, desperate to catch every single drop of wetness she could.

“fuck, haze, feels really fucking good.” you moaned and brought your hand to the back of her head, gripping her hair between your fingers in ecstasy.

she hummed in response to the praise you were giving her, sending vibrations throughout your core that nearly made you choke. hazel continued to suck on your clit, holding your thighs apart with her hands hooked under your knees. she slid her face side to side with her tongue flat against your pussy, moving your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

you felt a pressure building in your lower belly and tried to move hazel’s face closer to your mound to chase your release.

and she stopped.

you lifted your head from the pillow and stared at her kissing your thighs, before going to unbuckle her own pants.

“wait hazel,” you put your hands on top of her jean button, “can i?” you spoke so quietly, hazel barely caught what you were saying. she nodded her head, unsure of what else to do.

you gently unbuttoned her jeans before sliding them and her boxers down and allowing hazel to step out of them. you lifted her button up over her head and unclasped her bra, letting them fall onto the space on the floor next to her. she was in awe of you. you were so gentle to her and she would never believe she deserved it, even if you reminded her of it everyday for the rest of her life.

once she stood completely naked in front of you, you led her to lay down on bed, stomach facing up, before separating her legs and hooking one of your own over hers.

you looked at her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be met with the rapid rise and fall of hazel’s chest and her eyes shut in euphoria.

“hazel,” you caught her attention, she stared right at you, “keep your eyes on me.” you lowered yourself gently, placing your clit right on top of hers. both of you let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of your juices mixing with the others.

placing your hands on her stomach, you moved slowly, rocking your hips back and forth against hers. hazel struggled to keep her eyes open, getting lost in the pleasure you were giving her. she always thought of moments exactly like this and imagined it being a lot different. she imagined that she would be the one on top of you, taking charge and pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. but after feeling the movement of your hips against hers and the way your breasts bounced slightly when you would pick up your pace. hazel fought her hardest to keep her eyelids from drooping. she didn’t want to miss a single move you made.

you quickly found a steady rhythm and went faster, prompting hazel to cry out. you leaned down and caught her moans in a rough kiss.

the familiar coil in your belly seemed to get tighter and tighter. hazel must’ve noticed the way your hips started to rock faster and knew you were about to cum.

“c’mon, cum for me, baby. give it to me, i’m almost there too,” she started rambling as she felt her orgasm approach her as well, “keep going, just a bit faster, angel.” both of you fought to keep your moans from being heard from anyone else in the house.

“fuck hazel, i’m cumming, i-” you were cut off as your orgasm hit you in waves. warmth spread throughout your body, making your limbs weak and causing your legs to nearly give out.

you kept going, over stimulating yourself, trying to get hazel to reach her orgasm. by the looks of it, she was on the edge. her baby hairs stuck to her sweaty forehead, her face scrunched up in pleasure as her back arched into the air.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck-” she rambled as her orgasm washed over her, quickly quieted by your mouth capturing hers.

the both of you gently rode out your releases, breathless and sweaty. you carefully lifted yourself off of hazel and laid next to her on the bed.

“we should talk about this, you know.” hazel started.

“we will. in the morning, i promise. for now, i just want to be with you.” that seemed to be enough for hazel.

you draped your arm over her waist, pulling her closer to you. she tucked her head in the crook of your neck and the both of you drifted off to sleep.

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel callahan imagine #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan smut #♡ ang’s anons

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fluffykitty1999-blog · 2 years

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Vintage cobalt blue hazel atlas blue criss-cross butter dish https://etsy.me/3Nk5SAF #cobalt #blue #butter #dish #crisscross #criss #cross #hazel #atlas https://www.instagram.com/p/CfMgI9huQet/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#cobalt #blue #butter #dish #crisscross #criss #cross #hazel #atlas

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mahtharula · 10 months

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✧･ﾟ— nailtech!connie headcanons

starring: nail tech!connie x black!fem!reader wc: 627 cw: purely fluff 🫶🏾

nailtech!connie was the tech all of the girls wanted to book with. yeah, he knew how to get your hands right, but everyone wanted to book simply to get a closer look of the man. from his dyed buzz cut head that always had a different design every time you came into the shop, to his tall, to the tattoos that decorated his arms and hands perfectly and his eyes. oh his hazel eyes is what gets them.. but most importantly, his nails!

nailtech!connie is both a great listener and conversationalist! Honestly, he should add being a therapist to his qualifications because the amount of advice he has given his clients is insane. most of the time, they complain about their man and his line is, “you too pretty to be dealing with that.” (which have the girls swooning out of their minds).

nailtech!connie who definitely plays music during his appointments. of course, he caters to his clients preference of music and rocks from there, but baby if you give him the aux you will be far from disappointed. his music is so diverse, it ranges from partynextdoor to bossa nova, depending on his mood. his main goal is to make the client comfortable, so when booking with him he has a section where he asks if you want a talkative or silent session.

nailtech!connie who learned to do nails after watching his aunt do it for some time. at first, he only learned to expand his creativity as an artist since he dabbled in many mediums, but once he got the hang of it he was hooked. as he continued perfecting the craft and posting his work, two years and a half later he had enough money to rent out a studio and widen his client intake.

nailtech!connie because of the overwhelming number of clients who began booking with him since the opening, trying to squeeze in new clients was a tricky task. most times, connie would be booked for weeks making it hard to even get a taste of his talent on your nails. so when his homegirl was begging for him to do her best friend's nails, all he had to say was that she was lucky one of his regulars canceled.

nailtech!connie was absolutely floored when you walked into his studio. of course, he catered to many women due to his career, but something about you just had him stuck. from your smooth, dark skin to your locs that ended at the middle of your back, your plump lips that revealed a pearly white, gem decorated smile. you were like a dream personified. As you were explaining your vision for your nails to connie, he was trying his very best to focus but your scent of shea butter and florals was distracting him, “you paying attention, con?” “huh? yeah, yeah, i am!”

nailtech!connie trying to learn everything about you. from your favorite foods to what you do as a career, all of it. when he found out you were a rapper, he only wanted to go harder pulling out some exclusive charms he was saving. something he did love was how despite giving him an idea of what you wanted, you basically gave him freedom to present your idea into his vision, which he absolutely loved.

nailtech!connie who kept refusing to take the full payment and insisted on giving you a discount (because he can). after a few times, you finally convinced him to take the payment, but asked if you could become a regular because his work was so good. it only took a flutter of your lashed extensions for the man to fold, but he only had one rule: don’t cheat on him.

✧･ﾟ— author’s note • hey y’all!! i hope this was good, i’m super proud of it but please give me feedback 🙏🏾. do y’all want more nailtech!connie? do ya’ll want more connie & y/n ��? let me know and i appreciate y’all, until next time 🖤

tags : @yourrfavzxri , @theemrsjaeger , @hqkalon , @1h3artm3

#✧･ﾟ—mahwrotethis #nailtech!connie #nailtech!connie headcanons #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #aot x black reader #aot connie #connie imagine #connie fluff

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grogusmum · 1 month

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It's my Nana's birthday today. She passed more than 30 years ago... here is one of my favorite cookie recipes because I don't believe in secret family recipes!

HAZEL'S NANA'S THIMBLE COOKIES

(that she got from her friend Sally)

1 cup salted butter

½ cup granular sugar

2 egg yolks

1 tsp vanilla

2 cups sifted flour

Cream softened butter, sugar, yolks, and vanilla. Slowly add flour (remember sift flour before measuring 2 cups)

Chill dough for at least 2 hours.

Roll 1 inch or smaller balls depress center with thumb or with back of small measuring spoon, and fill indent with jam (she used raspberry) and bake 8 minutes in 325° oven.

#recipes #cookie recipes #hazel's family recipes

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tadpolesonalgae · 4 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 12

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Welp, it’s taken like seven chapters to lead up to this, but we’re here now

Word Count: 6,038

-Part 11- -Part 13-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The flight up to the House of Wind is quiet, but your ears had been ringing before take-off, and you can’t even hear the pulse of your own heart or the puffs of your own breath.

For a few minutes, you allow yourself to cave in. Like a cake that’s sunken in the middle, soft and gooey from too much butter and not enough flour. Your head dips, pressing against his shoulder, able to feel the strokes of chill wind across your cheek, eyes slid shut with fatigue. Wishing the night away, pushing it far below your conscious, burying alongside everything else you don’t want to touch. Pushing into rough but fresh palms, handing it off for someone else to deal with.

His scent presses into your clothes, and you let it, pulse gradually slowing from its war-drum beat in your throat, the sounds beginning to rise to the surface. The leathery rasp of his wings as they fly higher to the House, the steady in and out of his breath, the wind whispering as you cut through it.

The warmth of the wards passes in your ears, and then he’s landing, arms shifting to set you down on the floor carefully. The muscles in your legs are like custard, and you take a moment to steady yourself, raising your gaze to the House before you. He opens the door, guiding you inside silently, taking you to the kitchen and seating you at the table.

You stare down at the grains in the wood, picking out the slight dampness across from you, table clean and empty.

Azriel slides a mug of tea into your vision, still steaming, and your sinuses start to ache. Cold hands wrap around the burning ceramic, feeling the sting begin to seep through the velvet.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him silently moving around the table, taking a seat, but you’re staring into the swirling darkness of the tea, wondering if your tongue will somehow swell and warp like your hands if you drink the mug down as it is.

“You should take your gloves off,” he says quietly, hands around his own mug. “The heat will warm you up faster.”

You silently stare down into the depthless well below you, wishing to plunge inside. Bathe yourself in hot, searing water that’ll purge those prints from your skin. Remould you like the cauldron did, removing the past roughness of your fingertips and constant grit beneath your nails.

Shadows roll up onto the table in thin streaks, dancing deftly atop the surface, as if trapped in water. They flicker and swell in places, thrumming with magic as they reach out. You stiffen as they dip beneath your fingers, prying them gently from the mug. Slipping beneath the fabric at your wrists, pinching lightly at your fingertips, and pulling.

At first your digits curl, but the velvet slides a little more, and you allow it to fall away.

The sickeningly sweet smell of gardenias fills the room, and you draw your hands back, staring at the crumbling skin as you wrap them around the mug, not minding the surface level burn.

“You don’t have to wear those, you know,” he says quietly, watching from across the table. “Nobody would mind.”

Hands tighten around the thick ceramic, raising it to your mouth as you take a sip. It’s boiling. Lower it back to the table, scalding liquid washing down your insides, not enough to thaw the numbness that’s settled over your skin.

“Is it from your magic?” He asks quietly, sliding his fingers through the handle of his mug. Moments tick by, then you dip your head. “It itches sometimes,” you murmur, then seal your lips tight. “Is it itching now?” He asks, keeping your attention.

Below you, the tea swirls, steam wafting from the lip, warm but wet. You shake your head, “I don’t think so. Not yet.” Hazel weighs upon you, and you take another scalding sip, allowing the burn to sear into you. “Not yet?” He echoes, taking a drink from his own mug, watching you steadily over the rim. You remain quiet, not offering up anything else, keeping to yourself.

“How long has this been happening?” He asks instead, once it becomes clear you aren’t going to be coerced by silence. Your eyes don’t leave the mug, fingers tightening around the pale orange ceramic, the low gleam of faelights warming it. “Do you know what it is?”

“I know it hurts,” you say softly, raising your cup, but not drinking. “But you’re going to make me train it regardless, so why don’t we leave out the messy details?”

He pauses, observing you quietly from across the table. You don’t meet his gaze, and it feels like running away. Letting him put himself above you.

Your eyes blink shut, easing in a breath. That’s not what he’s doing at all.

“You likely aren’t doing it right,” he says at last, sipping from his tea, your eyes finally meeting his over the glazed lip. “How would you do it?” You ask quietly—reluctantly—again peering into the swirling blackness of your drink. “I’d have to know what I’m working with first,” he says pointedly, inviting you to tell him more about what’s been going on with your magic.

“Funny,” you murmur, eyes flicking to his, “I’d come to the same conclusion.”

His brow twitches almost imperceptibly, the edges of his mouth souring, and your gaze dips back down to the tea. How nice it would be to burn those handprints from your skin, for once finding yourself craving the searing itch of your magic.

Azriel shifts in his seat, great wings refolding themselves at his back, narrowed hazel piercing into you. “You might’ve hurt a lot of people back there,” he says, setting his mug on the table, one hand wrapped around its base, middle and forefinger curled through the handle.

Your throat rolls, but you choose not to respond, staring deeper into your tea.

He sighs, and you can feel his attention on you. “Tell them tomorrow,” he orders, voice deceptively soft for what he’s asking. Nails press into the ceramic, tension coiling in your shoulders. “I have one more day left. That’s what we agreed,” you mumble, the real world beginning to sink back into your bones. The weight of grief and the strain of anxiety coupling in your body. Having gone from a night of quiet mourning to one of icy violence in under and three hours.

“You put people in danger with that move,” he replies smoothly, appearing relaxed though you can guess he’s anything but. “So you’ll be telling them—at least Feyre—tomorrow. Unless there’s something you’ve discovered this past fortnight?” Even you know your mouth has pressed into a sullen line. Sulking like a child who’s lost a bet.

“I don’t want to figure it out,” you mumble, pulse thrumming in your throat as you stare into the hot tea. “It’s already hurting me. I don’t want anymore.”

“You don’t have a choice,” he counters from across the table.

“Rhysand would disagree,” you argue numbly. You always have a choice.

“Rhys isn’t here right now.”

Hazel collides with your gaze, the green-brown colder than usual. Is this what he’s like without affection numbing your judgement? Have you been seeing what you want to see? You dismiss the thought—things would have worked out better if that was true.

“It’s hurting me, Azriel.” You reiterate, trying to emphasise the pain that lacerates through your bones, without doing exactly that. “Because you’re doing it wrong.”

“And how am I supposed to do it?” You reply, more bitterly than you’ve ever dared speak to him before. He sits back in his chair idly, taking a deep drink from his mug, watching you pointedly over the lip.

“Fine,” you say quietly, but not weakly, staring at him from across the table. “Where would you start?”

“Tell me what you’ve been doing this past week,” he says calmly, “tell me what you’ve found.”

So he was being serious about that, not just trying to prove a point. You look down into your mug, lightly running your finger over the lip. “I’ve been trying to get it to spark,” you reply softly, not meeting his gaze.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

Azriel blinks, watching you silently. Thinking over his words before he speaks. “What have you been doing, exactly. Aside from reading.”

“I told you,” you reply, humiliation grating and twisting in your stomach. “I tried to get to it, but nothing… It didn’t work.”

“Nothing happened, or it didn’t work?” He asks, and you feel the smallest bit of resentment for his acute attention to the things he’s interested in. “It didn’t work,” you relent.

“So what happened?” He pushes, drinking from his mug—an action you’re certain he does to encourage a sense of ease.

Tension buzzes beneath your skin, ringing in your ears then flashing to deafening silence as you think back over the past fortnight. The steady decline of your skin. “I already told you,” you say quietly, noise fading to numbness again. “It began hurting.”

“Tell me what it feels like.”

“Itching,” you reply.

He waits sternly, practically ordering you to give more than a one word answer. Your jaw works, head dipping as brows tighten. “It burns. Usually only in my hands, but when…” —you swallow, remembering how it had spread so rapidly across your skin, only halting at the line of the pendant— “when you… What you saw, that one time…I felt feverish for hours after. My hands hurt the most, and they…” You trail off, not wanting to speak that single night into existence.

“They what?” He prompts quietly, shadows flickering mildly along the grain of the table. Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth, swallowing around a lump in your throat. “They bled a little. I still have sores on my knuckles.” Palms splay as still as possible upon the surface, allowing his eyes to trace the scaly, flaky skin—lumpy in parts.

He gives no visible reaction, but you can’t help to imagine silent disgust. They aren’t a pleasant sight.

“That shouldn’t be happening,” he says, hazel weighing into you, and you hastily bring your hands back to the mug. “You shouldn’t be experiencing pain from accessing your magic.”

A heavy weight forms in your stomach, having sat there for a while now.

“Why not?” You ask hoarsely, meeting his gaze. His brow narrows, watching you silently for a moment. “Because that’s not how magic works,” he replies quietly. “It isn’t in itself good or bad, and so it follows it should not have an impact upon its user. Magic is a tool for the wielder, something to be moulded.”

“But cauldron-given magic isn’t the same,” you mumble, eyes dipping to your hands, knuckles popping from your skin as you hold the mug tighter. “Nesta stole from the cauldron. She wasn’t supposed to have anything. And if she wasn’t supposed to have something, why would I?”

The words hang in the air, only now being allowed to fully take shape in the world, finally spoken aloud. “Elain’s the only one who was given something freely,” you murmur, tea steadily cooling, no longer steaming. “So it makes sense mine…that mine has a catch.”

“No it doesn’t,” he says, and a muscle feathers in your jaw.

“Yes, it does,” you grit out.

“No,” he repeats, shadows flickering closer to you, imploring you to meet his gaze; you refuse. “Even with Nesta’s magic being taken, it never hurt her. Magic doesn’t have sentience.”

This time you meet his gaze, pointedly flicking your eyes to his shadows. “They seem pretty aware.”

Azriel stiffens.

It’s by no means an obvious change, and it may well have been enhanced by your mind, but you felt the air shift. On a subatomic level, something changed.

“You said yourself that magic is something to be moulded,” you force out quietly, gaze dipping away from his, regretting the brief snappiness. “So it becomes a reflection of the user.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re no torturer,” he says dryly.

“Neither are your shadows,” you murmur, watching the blackness of your tea. Humour leeches from the air.

A heavy silence follows, taut and loaded, like a bow pulled tight.

“Elain and I spoke the other day,” you whisper, hands tightening around the mug, practically able to hear your skin rustle with the small movement.

Azriel waits quietly, steadily cataloguing the small inconstancies in your behaviour that have been cropping up throughout the night. He’d put them down to shock from being at such close proximity to violence, but it appears there’s something more.

It’s lucky he’d been feeling so restless earlier, allowing his shadows on a looser leash than usual, able to explore and patrol the city streets, cataloguing details to busy them while he worked. Then a commotion had kicked up, and they’d naturally snuck forward. It was only when they’d caught the balmy floral scent tinged with fear they’d scuttled back to return to him, having split the two males apart once he had you away.

“She’d been off the past few days, and I thought it was because of… I thought I knew what it was.” He watches as your pulse deepens, noting the slight but frequent disturbances between scaly knuckles. He thinks back to the way your spine had shuddered with lonely despair, grief etched into the hunched knots of your shoulders as tears splashed into a small pool where he’s now sitting.

“She had a vision,” you manage thickly, and this time there’s nothing subtle about the way he stiffens. Even his shadows skitter back at the mention of those vivid dreams that had stolen words from her mouth for so many months. Trapped in a state half between reality and fantasy.

“You…you die,” you whisper, hardly a breath. “There’s a flash of light, and then you’re on the ground, and you’re— you’re bleeding out.”

“The light?” He asks hoarsely, features tight.

“Green. Like Starfall, she said.”

Azriel stares at you, the top of your head, spine bowed before him in such a meagre, inoffensive stance. Somehow, you’ll be the death of him.

Questions fall from his lips, about the vision: where was it set? What events led up to it? Was there anyone else? What happened after?

In a forest, bargain rings formed with a fox, no one else present, the steep grassy slope with the bone-grey gate and dripping blue web.

He stares at you for a long time, and you keep silent. Wondering if he’ll get to you before you get to him.

“All the more reason for you to train,” he says at last, still staring at the dipped top of your head. Teeth bite the inside of your lip, brows narrowing as heat warms behind your eyes.

“When did you find out?” He asks, refusing to do as much as consider leaving the trail. Who knows where his might might wonder, with the freedom to finally ponder his end.

“The day before yesterday. When I came out of her room.”

No wonder you’d looked so shaken. No wonder Elain hadn’t wanted to speak with him. No wonder you’d been acting so strangely this evening, with everything coiled tight.

“All the more reason to have the others involved,” he says finally. Cassian and Nesta aren’t to return for another week yet, but their plates are full. There’s no way to ask them to take on a task like this, it would be too much to handle. A familiar ache blossoms through the bones of his hands, the signs of restlessness setting in. He still has so many reports to get through, then to manage the topic of your strange magic as well as the vision…to find himself a replacement, too.

Before him, you nod, still clutching the now-cold cup of tea.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Okay.”

————

The parchment lays tauntingly upon the volume, stretched out lazily, practically grinning at you with that razor-sharp smile.

Write again when you’re ready to show your claws.

Well, if there’s ever going to be a time for you to step outside of your circle, it’s now. Taking the first step over the rickety old threshold, moving from mildew smelling wood, toward the crisp freshness of cold wintry air.

You remember what Elain had told you—about the twin bands that forged an alliance. Under no circumstance will you allow even the first step of the prophecy to be fulfilled. So long as you don’t actually enter into a bargain with him, you can stave off the inevitable. Keep it at bay until a solution is found.

The pen trembles in your hand, and dark droplets stain the parchment, having forgotten to clean the nib on the lip of the pot. The words are carved into the paper, looking more permanent than etchings on a grave stone.

How do you feel about a bargain?

The paper vanishes, and your heart pounds in your throat. It’s been a while since you last wrote to one another. What if he’s become bored?

To your surprise, his response is prompt, but you waste no time on considering why he’s up so late in the night, already blending into early morning. Your heart pounds harder when you read his message, pen trembling lightly in your hand.

What trouble have you gotten yourself into, cygnet?

Even through the paper, you find yourself able to hear the condescending lilt of his voice. You can’t help but feel you’ve walked right into whatever trap he’s set for you, but you’re left with no choice but to continue.

I’m serious, Eris.

The parchment vanishes, and you wonder if you should have continued with the first point to keep his attention, but— You can’t let him know how badly you need this. He might not be as bad as the others have made him out to be, but you’d be foolish to trust him entirely. You need to keep your cool.

But then the paper reappears.

I can tell from your wobbly handwriting.

You scribble on the page.

Incredibly articulate, as always.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach, and you sit back in the chair, glaring at the parchment. Teeth chew on your lower lip, pen dipping into the ink pot, hovering over the page, but hesitating. It’s so insane to be doing this—even you can see that. But it’s insane you’re having to be confronted with your own source of magic as well as a vision predicting Azriel’s death.

If you remain idle, he’ll be the one to pay.

They haven’t snatched you up already, have they?

Something cold and slimy ices down your spine, staring at the words, lips twisting down at the sinister question.

What do you mean? You write back, this time keeping your hand as steady as possible.

The parchment vanishes, and you’re left with a sour feeling in your stomach. You’d forgotten about the edge that weighs at the back of your mind whenever writing to him, like he has a dagger idly tracing the knots of your spine. You raise your hand, fingers lightly tracing the nape of your neck, clearing the area.

Paper reappears, and you hesitate, sucking in a light breath before leaning forward to read.

I was under the impression your oldest sister had to undergo some unpleasant rehabilitation. I wouldn’t put it pass Rhysand to do the same to you.

You give him no time to sense your doubt, setting pen to parchment thoughtlessly.

You’re lying. You have nothing to base that on.

You clearly haven’t been filled in on our meetings if you think things are well enough that you have the luxury of inaction.

What the hell does that mean?

You glare at the paper, pulse bumping against your rib cage.

Are you interested or not?

The page vanishes, and you fall back into the habit of counting. One…two…three… Hands fumble with the volume, unread since you last wrote to him. The book isn’t even fully opened before his response is delivered.

I wouldn’t have bothered talking with you if you were entirely bland.

Your expression sours, apprehension draining as you glare at the parchment.

Is that supposed to a compliment?

Paper vanishes, the reappears seconds later.

I don’t give them out often.

The edges of your mouth quirk, familiar discomfort settling over your skin.

I can tell. You need some practice.

The paper again disappears, and you again return to the book, scanning the short title—one you’ve already read. You flip forward, scanning the text to see if it’s something you haven’t yet reached or not.

Parchment settles over the page, returned to you.

Is that any way to be writing to me? I’m under the distinct impression you want something.

Curious, Eris?

Fascinated.

You lean back in your chair, breathing steadily. Reaching habitually for the emptying pot of hand cream. Taking a moment to pause, regulating your heartbeat. This has to happen one way or another, and as it is, it’s the best you can do to keep the prophecy at bay.

I want to learn more about what I can do.

Go on.

Good gods. This is mad. What are you doing?

I know I have something. You write, easing in deep breaths, stretching your feet, body stiffening over the parchment. You know I have something. I want to know more. And I think you do, too.

There it is, written down on paper. Your offer.

The parchment vanishes, a cool sweat sliding down your spine, thumbs rubbing the remaining cream into your skin, rubbing over the dry scaliness, gliding over the stray lumps in your knuckles, the area around your nails dead and hardened.

I’m sure your High Lord would be intrigued by your offer. He’s written. What’s in this for me? If Rhysand finds out what you’re planning, I’ll be the one to take the brunt of his fury, and that’s not what our alliance needs.

He won’t find out. You write.

Forgive me if I doubt that.

A frustrated sigh leaves your chest, pulse beginning to spike.

What do you want?

Tell me what you’re seeking first. Then I’ll decide my price.

You swallow. Unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

I need to hide for a bit.

The parchment vanishes, and a split second of doubt ripples through your fingers, crushing weight pulling on your shoulders.

You’re in trouble.

A little.

To do with your magic.

Maybe.

Moments tick by, but you’re unable to read, vision slanting at the edges as you stare at the blank space, chewing on your tongue until copper spills, coating your mouth. Stress peels down your skin.

You’re asking for refuge.

I didn’t say that.

The paper vanishes and reappears in seconds, and you briefly shoot a glare at the letter.

Lost interest?

For how long?

You blink, thinking. You hadn’t gotten this far. How long would you need? If you tried to bring it out…even through the pain…

How long is possible?

Another silence. He’s probably guessing how serious this is. Probably already knows. Calculating away at your expense.

A month. Take it or leave it.

Eris I need more than a month.

There’s no way you could master it in a month. Both Feyre and Nesta took much longer, it’s unachievable.

The paper reappears, nothing added since, anxiety being sprinkled upon your mind. Your fingertips prickle, and you wring your hands together before relenting, putting pen to paper.

How soon can the month start?

How badly do you need it?

(How badly do you need me?)

Promptly, you respond, dodging the question. You’ve got to be careful around him, the last thing you need is him knowing about Elain’s vision before it’s even been spoken about with the rest of them. You can only imagine what he’d do with that sort of information to hold over you, however briefly.

Tomorrow?

Within the hour would be appreciated.

Very badly.

You scowl at the page, able to hear his mocking tone through the letters.

This isn’t funny, Eris.

I didn’t say it was.

I can hear your mirth through the paper.

The parchment vanishes, taking a while to reappear. You can imagine his lips pressing together—the same way he had when you’d fallen into the river.

You have unbelievably acute hearing.

You glare hard at the paper. Wishing it would burst into flames.

Is it plausible? To be away within the hour?

I suppose.

Yes or no?

Time ticks away, sitting still as you wait, muscles tense as you absently peer down at the flaky skin. You begin running through a list of things to do should he agree: you’ll need to pack, to find a reason to disappear for a month, to… That’s it. Clothes, and an alibi. But how in the world are you going to find something to keep you away from them for a month. You don’t like the idea of breaking from the agreement with Azriel, but you suppose technically he broke it first…

Teeth worry your lower lip, head resting in your hands, breathing heavily as you peer through cool fingertips. This whole night has been a blur.

If you aren’t there to tell them, it’s a safe bet that Azriel will go ahead with it anyway, regardless if you’re present or not.

All you need is a reason to vanish.

Flashing images of sawtoothed ice crackle through your mind, vacant gold filled with sparks.

Your stomach sinks, seeing a way through.

It’s wrong. Wrong and hurtful to him, being used for your own needs. But if it’s for a greater good…

The paper reappears, and you’re out of time to figure out a cover plan.

Eyes scan the single word, written in a neat, elegant script.

Yes.

————

He’d be furious with you.

He wouldn’t show it, but you know what you’re doing isn’t right. And what you’re about to do is much worse.

Hands grip the straps of your bags tighter, two strung over your shoulder, ready to leave. As many clothes as you could fit, as well as the volume Eris had given you. The small, deep blue box burns against your thigh, searing through the fabric of your pocket.

“Bas?” You call, wary of making a disturbance.

Minutes feel like hours as they drip by, the door eventually cracking open.

His lip is split, and his nose looks soft and broken, no blood in sight save for the bruising across his cheek. Gold gutters as he sees you, making to turn away but you stick your foot over the threshold, hand landing atop his, having him flinch.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, voice rough and raw, thyme and rosemary tinged with copper. “I wanted to check on you,” you say, quietly, heart pounding. “I don’t have a lot of time. There’s a lot I want to say to you right now and more I wish I could explain, but I want to know how you are.”

His throat rolls, and he relents on the door, allowing it open a little more. He’s changed clothes, having cleaned himself up since you last saw him. Mere hours ago.

Wordlessly, you extend your arm, returning the warm over-piece he’d lent to you. He takes it silently, hanging it over the hook beside the door, deeper in his house.

“Are you… Have you taken care of yourself?” You ask quietly. He stiffens, but nods numbly, and you can tell he’s being truthful. “What did you want to say?” He asks, diverting the topic, causing your pulse to spike erratically. “I need your help with something,” you admit hoarsely, gold latching with your gaze, a spark of awareness returning, telling you to continue.

You shift beneath his attention, gripping the straps tighter. “I can’t tell you what it is, or where I’m going,” —Bas startles at that, straightening— “But I need to leave for a bit.” Anxiety rolls across your chest as you feel him staring at you. But remaining silent. “I just need a week to figure things out, but until then I need you to help,” you whisper.

He scans your features, searching for clues, dropping repeatedly to your bags as if they might hold the answer.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks quietly, warily.

“If anyone comes asking for me, I need you to tell them I’m with you,” you say, meeting his gaze. “It’ll only end badly for me otherwise. Nobody can know where I’m going or why. I need that privacy, Bas.”

He stares down at you, lips parted, eyes slightly wider than usual. “You— what?” He hisses at last, grip tightening on the door, and you consciously take a subtle step back, watching as he marks the action, features shifting from shock to guilt in the blink of an eye. His posture stiffens, and he straightens, getting a hold of himself, pulling back into his home.

“I can’t— I’m not lying to your family,” he murmurs, unable to look at you, gaze cast down. “You’ve been so insistent on me asking for help when I need it Bas,” you remind quietly, guilt soaking into the chambers of your heart. “Well, I need it,” you whisper, hardly able to get the words out. “I need you.”

The dilemma rolls behind his eyes, scenarios flashing through and playing out in his head. “What would I even say?” He asks softly, voice raw. There’s no time for embarrassment, you have to meet Eris in under an hour, so you push it aside. “Just say I’m on my cycle, and I wanted to be some place safe,” you say quietly, dipping your head in a show of vulnerability. Allowing warmth to heat your skin, fingers tightening around your bags. “It should keep them away for a little, if they think that I’m…” you trail off purposefully.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself, nodding. “I get it.”

Seconds pass and you shift on your feet, displaying your distress. “Can you— I mean, will you do that for me?” You ask hoarsely, forcing your gaze to meet with worn out gold, tired and weak from the long night. He appears indecisive, torn between you and his rulers.

“Just a week,” you remind softly. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t…” You guiltily shift on your feet, and at last he nods.

“Okay,” he whispers, hands shifting on the door. “Okay. But one week. And you’re not doing anything dumb.”

“One week,” you agree nodding. “And nothing dumb.”

“I’m serious,” he emphasises, moving to reach for you, but hesitating, then pulling back into himself. Guilt bubbles up your throat, wriggling beneath your flesh. You want to apologise, to cry and tell him you’re sorry for putting him in this position. After all he’s done for you.

“Tell me you’re going to be okay,” he says quietly, watching you.

“I’m going to be okay,” you reassure, tongue flicking out over your lips.

If he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t show it.

Bas nods stiffly and silence stretches between you, a rope slowly going taut.

“Okay,” he murmurs, releasing the door, pushing upright. “Be safe, yeah?”

Your throat rolls, but you nod. “Yeah. I will.”

————

The entrance to the tunnel looms before you, right where Eris said it would be.

You walk down into this, and it will take you straight to him, no going back.

You shift the bags on your shoulders, the weight nudging against the little blue box at your thigh.

With a heavy breath, you turn, scanning the trees before you, barely able to make out the speckled lights of Velaris in your wake. A strange sense of melancholy nostalgia settles across your skin, except it’s thick and lined with heaviness. Like you’re leaving behind something you never quite got to enjoy, leaving before you’re ready, suddenly extracted from your life. Lifted and replaced.

You hadn’t expected to fear being away from them. You hadn’t expected to miss them so soon—not even out of the Night Court yet. But the prophecy haunts your steps, driving you apart in order to keep them together. Azriel will tell them about your powers, the vision will come to light, and they’ll understand why you went away. It’s safer like this.

Exhaling steadily, you turn back to the open tunnel, and begin the descent.

The darkness wraps around you quickly, and a sense of confusion prickles at your skin, like your brain has been turned around, direction wobbling. All you can do is continue on forward, putting one foot in front of the other, wandering deeper into the pitch blackness.

A crisp breeze plays with the sleeves of your dress, wrapped in the thickest scarf you could find. The chill of autumn washes over you, sweeping into your lungs, soothing the anxious heat of your skin, cooling down your spine. You pause, the early dawn colours of grey-blue glowing faintly in the distance, nearing the end of the tunnel. Taking in a deep breath, you allow the tension to roll from your muscles, soothed and softened by the freshness of it all. The newness.

When you reach the tunnel’s exit, you’re greeted by an unrecognisable figure, but that possesses autumn court uniform, taking you securely by the arms, before a flash of icy air shocks your skin, dropping through the dizziness of winnowing until you’re within the confines of a castle, great braziers lighting the walls either side a small door. The male instructs you to wait inside, then leaves, disappearing silently off down the hallway without another word.

You quietly open the door, finding that it leads to a windowless room the size of your old bedroom from the hut, lit by three candles. To the left is a neat, single bed with a small closet at its foot, a thin rug over the cold floor, and a writing desk pushed against the other side of the room. A door leads away into what you hope is a washroom.

Overall, it’s sparse and bare, but the air is warm and dry, smelling faintly of pastry, and you wonder where it’s coming from. From the looks of the area, it’s a place usually assigned to servants or handmaids, likely given to you to draw less attention—it would be odd if a Lady suddenly took up temporary home in the Autumn Palace without having to greet any of the Members of Court, so you suppose a place like this is ideal. Which must mean you’re near the kitchen, hence the warmth and smell of pastry.

Fatigue weighs on your bones, lids sliding shut before you’ve even made it to the bed.

You hardly manage to keep your eyes open long enough to remove your gloves and rub cream into the skin, the sickening smell of gardenias permeating the previously pleasant aroma of jams and tarts and other breakfast pieces. It has your stomach rumbling but you’re far too tired to do much, save for setting your bags down and putting the volume on the desk.

Shoes are lethargically toed away, scarf unfolding and put beside the volume before padding over to the bed, rummaging through your bags in search of a night gown. Discarding your clothes and paying a brief visit to the door in the corner—which is indeed a tiny washroom—before pulling on the ankle length gown, slipping into a thick pair of socks, blowing out the candles.

The bed is soft despite the thin mattress, and you settle beneath the covers, muscles the most relaxed they’ve been in a long time, exhausted from a day of emotional turbulence.

Breaths sigh in and out, settling into a peaceful rhythm, deepening as you begin to finally sink into the shallow waters of sleep.

Comfort sweeps over you like a fresh blanket, warm and clean after a long day, finally ready to rest.

“You’ve been here for the lesser part of an hour,” a voice calls from the door, dripping with displeasure. “Get up. It’s morning.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel x yn #cbmthy #multi part fic

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lemonsprite · 5 months

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𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 || 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐓𝐚𝐯)

Summary: Tav finally gets to pet the gods most loveable creatures

Word count: 598

Warnings: none^^

A/N: gn! Tav/reader, sorry to all my above average height baddies reader is smaller than Halsin :(, so much fluff it’s gonna make you vomit I love him!!!!!! Ambiguous relationship? Kinda? If you like squint it can be interpreted as platonic

I LOVE HALSIN IM CRAWLING ON HANDS AND KNEES THROUGH THE DESERT IN SEARCH OF MY BEAR MAN

It was cold.

Very cold.

Night had fallen, shrouding the camp in darkness and you shivered in your bedroll, pulling your one thin blanket closer to your chest in a desperate attempt to garner warmth.

The small campfire next to your bedroll barely emitted any light, the small embers casting a faint orange glow on the nearby damp grass.

You had half a sleep deprived mind to just stick your hands into the dying flame and cuddle up to the warmth.

“Can’t sleep?” Came a low grumble from the cot next to yours.

Halsin turned on his side to face you, his gaze searching your eyes almost concernedly. Part of you wanted to ask him how he was able to sleep in this cold practically shirtless but you bit your tongue, hiding your words.

“…yes.” You said almost sheepishly, embarrassed to be caught despite doing no wrong. “Sorry to wake you Halsin.”

“You did not wake me.” He smiled gently, his grin so soft it melted your heart like butter.

“I was already awake and noticed your plight… is there anything I can do to help?” He offered and you felt yourself involuntarily smiling back, his kind demeanour infectious.

Your face turned pink at his offer, shaking your head softly in reply.

“No, it’s quite alright Halsin you do not need to do anything…”

“Nonsense, yes I don’t need to… but I want to.”

He sat up from his bedroll, even sitting he still towered over you, his head blocking out the soft glow of the moon in the sky as the embers of the fire turned the hues of his hazel eyes brown. Halsin stopped where he sat, looking at you in a silent ask of permission.

He patted the empty space next to him in his bedroll, a clear invitation for you to join him yet something made you hesitate. You’d done very little for Halsin as long as you’ve known him yet here he was giving everything for you and asking for nothing in return. He was kind, too kind, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you that you’d never done anything worth while enough to deserve the love and attention of the Archdruid.

Before you could spiral any further, Halsin’s sweet as honey gaze returned you to normality. His smile was gentle, his eyes crinkling, forming wrinkles and it soothed your worries, washing them away like an ocean, Halsin’s soft breathing the ebbing tides and the quiet crackle and pops from the dying fire the lapping waves.

as you scrambled to pull yourself together and climb into bed next to him, Halsin moved his arm to accommodate you before wrapping it around your waist, pulling you closer to his torso.

His chest was like a furnace and if you laid still enough you could feel his heart beating slowly almost in perfect synch with a crickets chirping in the woods surrounding camp.

Your face couldn’t help but heat up once fulling realizing the situation you were in, the tips of your ears turning pink.

A low rumble came from behind you, Halsin’s laugh soothing in your ear.

“You Look Like a radish.” He teased, pulling you impossibly closer till you were flush with his chest.

No words would come out from your open mouth when trying to respond, so instead you elected to look around the sound asleep camp, your eyelids finally starting to droop from fatigue.

“Never hesitate to ask me for anything.” He hummed quietly, his body spooning yours.

“I’d hang the moon for you if asked…”

Sorry it was so rushed at the end TT I just got done with a six hour musical pit practice and I wanted to post this so I rushed it </3