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barefoot-joker · 2 months

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Put a Ring on It~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome back to another Yandere!Lucifer fanfiction. I went a bit of a different route than I normally do, so bear with me. As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2438

Warnings: Kidnapping, Unorthodox way of getting a partner

I hummed as I walked about the antique store, dusting some of the cases. Today was a bit of a slower day so I tried to find things to occupy my time with. I had already swept, cleaned the windows and moved some items around so dusting everything was my next option. My coworker Jessica meanwhile sat behind the counter polishing some of the glassware our store had to offer. “And so then he got down on one knee and proposed to her in front of the whole restaurant! Can you believe it?”

“And you and your boyfriend were just sitting there and watching?”

“Yeah. It was so romantic, Y/n!”

“It sounds like it was. Were you dropping hints to your man at that moment?”

“Well of course! We’ve been together for six years for crying out loud!”

I chuckled and began dusting one of the jewelry cases. “So how about you, Y/n? Anybody in your life?”

“No, unfortunately. Love isn’t really up my alley right now.”

“I get it.”

Ding! The bell above our front door went off.

Jessica and I both turned our heads towards the door to see an older woman standing there. She was in a red floor length dress and had a grayish brown fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked on the wealthier side not only because of her clothes but because of all the jewelry she had on. Rings decorated each of her fingers and pearl and gold necklaces draped around her front. She looked around and then spotted us. “Excuse me. Is Sarah in?”

“No, the owner isn’t in, unfortunately. What can we do for you,” Jessica replied.

The woman walked over and set a dark red velvet bag on the glass case. Opening it, she pulled out a gorgeous gold ring that looked like a snake wrapped around a medium sized ruby. The cut of the gem made it appear like an apple. “I was looking to sell this piece of jewelry. I no longer need it in my collection.”

The woman kept glancing around the store, almost like she was paranoid someone was following her. “It’s very beautiful, ma’am. How much were you looking to get?”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s your best offer, sweetie?”

Now that surprised me. I would have thought the woman would have asked for quite the chunk of change considering her appearance, but hey, this job still surprises me sometimes. “We’ll have to look at it and check out if it’s real gold or not. Plus we’ll need to check the karat of ruby you got.”

“You know what, nevermind. Just keep it, sell it, I don’t care!”

Suddenly the woman bolted out of the store despite Jessica and my protests. The slam of the door shook us out of our shock. “What was her problem? It would have only taken us a minute or two to evaluate the ring.”

“I think she had a lot more going on then we could have helped her with, Y/n.”

I hummed. Jessica picked up the ring and twirled it in her fingers. “It is quite the beautiful piece. The old gal could have probably gotten $200 for it. Oh well. You better clean it up and put it in the case. I’ll be on my lunch break.”

“You got it.”

Jessica stood from her perch and went into the back room as I placed the duster back in its proper place. Grabbing some jewelry cleaner and a rag, I picked up the ring and began to clean it. As I rubbed it down and made it shiny the more I felt drawn to it. It was almost like a small voice in my head was telling me to try it on. Eh, it couldn’t hurt could it?

Slipping it onto my ring finger, I admired it by the sunlight coming through the front window. It was quite the stunning piece with the ruby becoming slightly transparent and the gold of the snake shining. “Okay, that’s enough.”

I went to pull off the ring but surprisingly it wouldn’t give. Confused, I pulled again, only to grit my teeth when the ring felt like it tightened. “What gives?”

I pulled at it once more but pulled back when it felt like a fire from Hell grazed my fingertips. “Ow!”

I sighed and stared at the ring, the snake seemingly winking at me. “You’re coming off whether you like it or not.”

Heading into the bathroom, I splashed my hands with hot water before grabbing some soap. Scrubbing my ring finger, I pulled and pulled at the stupid piece of jewelry but it would not come off. I kept at it until my finger was bright red from how hard I was pulling. “Y/n, are you okay?”

I turned to see Jessica behind me, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I’m fine. It's just this ring won’t come off!”

I showed her my hand and the brunette tutted. “It looks like it’s jammed on there real good. I see you tried soap and water but to no avail. Have you tried oil yet?”

“No.”

“Well I seem to remember there was some vegetable oil in the break room if you want to try that. What made you try it on anyway?”

“I figured since we try jewelry on all the time it wouldn’t hurt. I guess I was mistaken this time around.”

“Just go try the oil and I’ll Google if there’s anything else we can do.”

“Okay.”

I dried my hands on the towel and then made my way to the break room. I opened all of the cupboards until I found the bottle of vegetable oil. Opening the cap, I splashed some onto the ring and around the finger before I began to rub. I did this for a few minutes and then attempted to pull again. Once again the snake tightened and it felt hot to the touch. I growled in frustration and pulled a few more times. Getting nowhere, I put the container of oil back and slammed the cupboard shut. I went over to the sink and rinsed off the excess oil before returning to Jessica in the main room. “Did you find anything useful?”

“No, but listen to this. I just did a general search on the ring and found an interesting article. Apparently a ring just like yours was said to have been crafted back in the Renaissance. A rich man was trying to court a young woman but she would have nothing to do with him. Summoning the Devil, the man and Lucifer made a deal that at the next masquerade ball the man would have the young woman. The Devil then crafted a ring and said that is what the man will propose with. If the woman denied his affections then she would become Lucifer’s. At the ball the woman denied the man’s affections and right then and there, the horned demon took her. It is said that whoever puts the ring on next will belong to Satan himself.”

“And where was this article found?”

“Somebody posted it on Reddit.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop trying to scare me with fairy tales. I’m already anxious that the stupid thing won’t come off.”

“Yeah, but can you imagine Y/n? You might now be the Devil’s next wife!”

We looked at each other deeply before we both burst into a fit of giggles. “OMG as if that article is true, am I right?”

I laughed. There was no way it could be true…right?

Jessica came up to me and spun me around in a twirl. “We’d better look for your wedding gown while we’re here. We wouldn’t want Lucifer to be disappointed would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

We giggled as we ran around the store finding all the pieces to make me the perfect bride. When we finished, we stood by the full length mirror. I held the white gown up to my chest and Jessica draped a veil over the top of my head. “Look at you! I’d say Lucifer is one lucky man!”

“You think so?”

“Oh I know so! So you couldn’t catch a human’s romantic affections but hey you got the Big Boss of Hell on your side!”

I set the dress down and the two of us began to dance. Jessica hummed a tune as we waltzed through the store, laughing the whole time. “Okay, okay. We’d better get back to work.”

I pulled the veil off and picked the dress back up. Returning them to their spots, Jessica and I continued our work day.

Later that night, Jessica and I were finishing locking up. The brunette clicked the door shut and turned the key. Pulling out the key, she turned to me. “I hope you have a good night, Y/n. And if the Devil does end up marrying you, don’t forget to send me an invite.”

“Will do. Have a good night, Jessica.”

The two of us waved at each other before heading off in opposite directions. The night was slightly busy as several cars drove on the road and people were out and about. As I was walking down a quieter street, I heard a slight humming. Curious, I looked around and couldn’t find anything that created the noise. I ignored and kept walking. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see bright golden specks fly up around me. Probably just fireflies.

Suddenly I couldn’t feel the ground below me and I was free falling. I screamed and quickly closed my eyes, my limbs sort of flying about. Just as sudden as I started falling, I stopped. The air in my lungs flew out as I sat on the hard ground and slowly but surely I opened my eyes. I gasped as my surroundings were completely different. I appeared to be in a hallway, red and light red striped wallpaper with white filigree decorated the walls, golden lights hung from the walls, and a red carpet lay atop the dark reddish floorboards. “There you are!”

My head snapped in front of me and my eyes widened. A small demon with a pointed tail and suit stood in front of me, his yellow eyes staring me down. “We’ve been wondering when you’d arrive, Miss. Please, come with me.”

I stood and backed away from the creature. “W-where am I? How’d I get here? Who are you?”

“All questions will be answered in due time, my lady. However, we need to get you ready. His Majesty will be here very soon and he’s expecting to see you.”

The demon grabbed onto my hand and led me down the corridor to a room on the right. We appeared to be in a walk-in closet of sorts as there were clothes hanging everywhere and a variety of dressers. The butler let go of my hand and had me sit at a vanity. The lights around the mirror were very bright so I found myself squinting. I watched as the little demon went to a couple of the different dressers, pulling out various things. He came to me a few moments later and stood behind me. Taking my hair in his claws, he petted it a few times before putting in a golden snake barrette. He repeated this action on the other side of my head. He then went to my neck and clicked a pearl necklace into place. Smoothing out the shirt I had on, the demon glanced over me before deciding I was fit enough. Grabbing my hand once more, the two of us walked down the hall and to a grand staircase. Going down to the first floor, he led me to a large room with two black thrones. The red eyes on the chairs stared me down as suddenly a poof of red smoke made a man sit on the left seat. He was on the shorter side and wore all white with a splash of red here and there. Our eyes locked onto each other and a big grin made its way to his lips. “Ah, darling! I’ve been waiting for you!”

The demon butler pushed me forwards and bowed. “Your Majesty. Will there be anything else you need?”

“No, but thank you, Dorian. Let us be.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

The little guy walked out of the room and with a click of the door, my heart began to pound loudly. I turned back to the blonde man and he motioned me forward. I gulped and went up the three steps to be near him. “I’ve been so excited to see you, my dear! Looking at you through a magic ball doesn’t do you justice.”

I could feel skin heat up at his comment. “Um, w-who are you?”

“How rude of me! Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell and your soon to be husband.”

I choked on my spit as he wiggled his eyebrows. “W-what?!”

“Oh did you not listen to your friend’s little story? We are to be wed, my dear.”

“I thought it was just some-”

“Fairy tale? Not at all! You slipped on my ring and are therefore mine. Oh, Dorian made you look so cute!”

I couldn’t believe it. Jessica’s story she read was real and I was going to be the Devil’s wife. Lucifer patted the throne next to him and I sat, still in shock. “Oh we’ve got so much to plan, sweetie! After all if we’re to be married next month-”

“Next month?! Are you crazy? I don’t even know you nor do I want to be in this situation!”

“It won’t be that bad, Y/n. We can get to know each other even after the wedding. Many couples get married and find love with each other after.”

“Look, I don’t want this. So you can just take your ring back and let me go home.”

I stood up and made my way down the stairs when suddenly I was flown back into Lucifer. He held me on his lap and nuzzled into me. “Ah, ah, ah! I can’t take the ring off even if I wanted to. It’s bound us together, you and I. Besides, you’re too cute to pass up.”

He booped my nose and I wanted to die right then and there. “I promise we’ll be happy together. I’m a very attentive lover and I can give you whatever you want. I am the Devil after all.”

He gave my cheek a kiss and all I could think of was Lord get me out of here.

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tteokdoroki · 9 months

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hello beloved aali, for your prompt game i am humbly asking for— ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ —with best boi kirishima eijirou <3 whatever kink you think fits best :P i hope u are well ! kissing u ! 😽💞

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.

line. ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜

extension. marking kink + fem!reader + nsfw.

things to note. thank u sainty baby!! hope u enjoy hehe

when he faces the world, kirishima is kind and gentle. he’s a favoured amongst all for his bright ruby eyes and friendly smile.

but when you’re alone in your bedroom, he transforms into a completely different person — he can be rough, and mean and everything you need to get off.

“that’s it baby, lift your leg for me,” kirishima coos down to you condescendingly, the pads of his fingers sinking so deep into your fleshy thigh that it might bruise. it’s one of his favourite things, seeing all the places he’s left his claim on you the morning after — just the sight of every scratch or bump and bruise sends blood rushing straight to his drippy cock and love hormones to his brain.

when eijirou gets like this — you can barely even think about the flash of pain shooting through you as he hoists your leg up high on his shoulder, overwhelming you with the feeling of how much deeper he can get at this ankle. his head shifts to the left, condescending smirk spreading across his lips and revealing pretty rows of sharpened pearly whites. “you like it like that, don’t you baby?”

he presses a kiss to your calf, nipping it with his teeth and smirking when your buck upwards in response.

your brain literally lags, barely able to handle the size of kirishima has he hangs over you — pressing you into the sheets as his heavy cock stretches you open. he pushes on despite the resistance of your tiny, weeping little hole. the public wouldn’t believe you if you their beloved red riot got like this, panting like a dog in heat, a drooling mess over you whenever he got the chance to fuck you. the sight is a picture of scandal, your cream foaming a tight ring around the base of his shaft, smearing about the place every time the red head plunges into your welcoming heat.

“oh, baby… listen to you, so fuckin’ soaked for me, oh god?” eijirou simpers lowly, a growl brewing within his broad chest at the feeling of you tightening around him. his dick slots perfectly against your squelching walls, and the crude and lewd sound of your sexes smacking together makes him so dizzy that his head drops to your neck weakly.

“uhuh, all f’you,” you manage to gasp out from underneath him — trapped between kirishima’s bulking body as he pounds into you and the sweaty sheets that stick to your back, tainted with both of your arousals.

the way you sound so breathless drives eijirou insane, you’ve got him losing his cool and losing himself in you — brutally swinging his hips into you without giving your swollen, salacious cunt a second thought. “god, fuck— c’mere baby, c’mere,” he seethes meanly as if you’re not already impossibly close. a weighty hand snakes around your neck, a thumb resting on your subtle Adam’s apple as kirishima pulls your throat up to his hungry mouth. “gonna mark this pretty fuckin’ throat up, needa— holy shit!”

he cuts himself off, your ribbed walls fluttering around his monstrous dick, suffocating him inside of you. instead of rambling on with slurred speech— kirishima pacifies himself by sucking on your neck, his teeth scraping your supple skin, sinking into it to leave his mark. his groans change to sweet, high pitched moans and pleasure smooths over his frenzied brain.

he doesn’t care now, that his teeth are sharp and pointed — he only cares for the way you wail in surprise as he leaves dark hues up and down your shoulders and neck. it’s his mark of possession, that you’re his and only his. eijirou’s hot tongue soothes the blistering love bites that he leaves on you while his arm wraps around the back of your head to keep you caged in beneath him.

“you're mine,” the red head growls between panting in pockets, lungs heaving in sync with yours — chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. “you've always been mine.” he reaffirms, sucking just under your ear too. mostly anywhere he can get access to. “love seeing you covered in me, no one else can have you like this. right, baby?”

you’d reply if you could, but you’re too busy choking on your pitiful groans that tell him you’re close to cumming. your nails scale their way down the muscles of his back — marking eijirou up in your own way too. letting him know he’s just as much yours, as you are his.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima thirst #bnha smut #kirishima x you #eijirou kirishima smut #kirishima eijirou smut #bnha thirst #✮⋆˙ 0-800-hot guy-hotline #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚੭ — close friends story #♡︎₊˚saint.🎖️#✧ ₊˚🃏੭ — games

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randomitemdrop · 11 months

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Item: Alleged Lucky Snake Eyes Ring; we make no supernatural claims, of course, but many that wear them claim the twin synthetic rubies grant them two extra Luck d6s they can roll once per long rest to add to any roll they please.

Source: an old "curio" catalog (aka occult supplies) that had to make sure to never claim anything magical because otherwise they could get in legal trouble for publishing unverifiable claims

#finger slot #gems #jewelry

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eriebasin · 3 months

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An antique snake ring with a ruby "apple" in his mouth.

eriebasin.com

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marvelousbelladonna · 3 months

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Sam’s flask

“What’s Robbie looking at? Wrong answers only”

My answer, Laura buying Marisha the fucking snake ruby ring!!!!

#critical role #cr spoilers #campaign 3 #C3e83 #Sam Riegel #sam’s flask #marisha ray #laura bailey #laudna #imogen temult #imogen #pastel goth #southern gothic #imodna #laudna x imogen

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rosebushwitch · 1 year

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you know sometimes I’m like even if Laudna and Imogen don’t end up together romantically they’re still a beautiful representation of the strength of female friendship and then I remember that time Imogen bought Laudna a gold ring with two snakes entwined around a ruby to apologise for a small fight they were in for a few days and I’m like oh no they’re in love and they do need to say it actually-

#I mean #I just rewatched that episode and BOY #and the bit where dusk is like flirting with laudna and Imogen just looks all sad #and orym notices and gives her a little hey you okay look #critical role #cr3 #southern gothic #laudna #imogen temult #imodna

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moris-auri · 8 months

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Lend themselves to your sweet eyes of gold

Warning: NSFW 18+ for smut. Teasing, p in v, oral sex (female receiving), mature, (she/her)

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x unnamed

Word count: 2k

A/N: Enjoy!

The melancholy strains of a lute drifted his way as he entered, haunting and beautiful and familiar. His shoulders slumping almost immediately after the door latched behind him. He dragged his fingers through his hair irritably, sending the already messy strands further askew.

Crossing the room in several strides, he reached for the jug, pouring wine into a gilded golden cup, lifting it to his mouth, the familiar sourness sitting heavily on the back of his tongue. The room had grown cold in his absence, the only source of light in the otherwise dark room coming from the sunlight that streamed past the curtains.

“Your brother was here earlier. The Queen too.''

The words came from behind him, spoken so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her speak. It was one of the things that drew him to her, her preference for the quiet peace of his chambers when she was not playing in the main hall or in another room.

Caught off guard, he turned, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, “What did they want?” he croaked, wincing as the wine burned a path down his throat as it settled in his stomach.

He knew what they wanted. What they always wanted, day after day after day; a never ending cycle of disappointment and reddened, still stinging skin.

“They didn’t say, though I assume they were searching for you," she murmured, lifting one shoulder in a delicate half shrug, head lowered as she continued to pick determinedly at the strings.

Her gown, some nearly sheer thing from Volantis or Tyrosh or Lys, he didn't know or care really, pretty as it was, hung loosely from her shoulders as she sat with her legs folded underneath her, the thin fabric a rich shade of blue. Further adornments decorated her limbs, little trinkets he had brought her decorated her wrists and her fingers. Rings of silver and gold embedded with emeralds and rubies and pearls, costly enough that she had protested, all but demanding he give them to Helaena.

He’d refused of course, knowing his sister-wife had no true interest in anything past the insects she had carefully pinned in her box. A plate of delicacies, the same one he'd left her with earlier, laden with pomegranates and other rich fruits and pastries, sat on the bed by her hip, more half eaten than it had been when he’d left her, steadily picked at over the course of the morning.

His answering smile was a rueful one that did not quite reach his eyes, his gaze lingering for a second longer before he grumbled under his breath, wrinkling his nose as the stench of the city wafted in on the breeze.

The weight of his beloved eldest sister's arrival hung sourly over everyone’s heads, his uncle and her children coming with her to see his nephew reaffirmed as the Sea Snake’s heir. A part of him viciously hoped it was two days, or even three. That her ship hit some delay, loathing the thought of having to leave his chambers, where no one looked at her like she was the dirt beneath their boots, someone cursed to remain nameless, doomed to be forgotten in the pages of history.

Where no one looked at him.

Not his mother, with despair in her eyes, not Aemond, who gritted his teeth and looked down at him every chance he could, cursed as the second son to want everything that came to him so effortlessly.

He wasn’t blind, using the fact that they chose to overlook him to his advantage. As covetous as Aemond was, he was still his brother, and that familial loyalty and shared blood mattered far more than any trivial crown. Or so he hoped.

Downing the last of the wine, he kicked off his boots and the near stifling layers of his clothing before he laid on his back beside her, curling one hand around her knee as his head rested against her thigh. He knew she didn’t mind it; his constant seeking of her when they were alone, craving the calm that she seemed to exude effortlessly like it was air.

“Will you sing for me, my little songbird?” he murmured, eyes glinting with mischief as he tilted his head back to look up at her, twirling a lock of her hair around the tip of his finger.

“Anything for you,” she promised, casting a delighted smile his way, eyes bright with affection as she looked down at him.

The sight of it, given so freely and without anything expected in return still made his breath lurch in his chest, the taste of blood blossoming in his mouth as the sharp edge of his tooth nicked the inside of his cheek.

She shifted backwards, wrapping her fingers around the neck of the lute and settling the pear shaped instrument against her chest, the quietness of the chamber filled with sound once again. He watched, an insurmountable fondness growing as her eyes closed, her pale lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

Her thin fingers plucked at the instrument’s strings with a reverence he knew all too well, the lilting sweet tones of her voice heavensent as her voice echoed over his chamber. He leaned further back against the loosely scattered pillows, the faint sunlight glinting off the rings on his fingers.

"Do you love me?"

Her eyes widened, her instrument forgotten in a second as she scrambled onto his lap. His eyes closed at the feel of her hands on his cheeks and the tender softness of the kisses she pressed to the curve of his cheekbones, her quiet murmured words soft in his ear.

He exhaled, fingers tangling in her hair as he sighed, a deep rasping sound from deep in his chest as her head lolled against his. He swore, time and time again, that he would never tire of it. Of her; the haven of her arms.

Of this.

The intensity of his gaze sharpened, his hand tangling itself in the fabric of her gown, pushing it up past her waist, savoring the growing desperation in her eyes. He trailed the tips of his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm as he listened to her play, watching with rapture as she shivered, not stopping despite the gooseflesh that rose on her skin.

She shuddered, fingers faltering on the strings, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Her quiet noises spurred him on, his eyes darkening as the violet was swallowed by black. Desire swelled within him, as dark as a stormcloud and as thick as smoke, choking and stealing the breath from his lungs.

“Keep playing,” he rasped, sliding closer, moving his fingers higher and higher before tangling them loosely in her hair, freeing the strands so they tumbled over her shoulders.

She hummed, a slow, lazy sound that belied her content as her head tilted to the side, lips parting. Her eyes opened again, half-lidded and intoxicated, a shade of gold not unlike Sunfyre’s scales.

"There's my love," he rasped, dragging his nose down the curve of her jaw, lips tightening at the breathy sound she let out.

Like a man starved, he curled a hand around her jaw, leaning in to kiss her again, one arm twining around the curve of her waist as he pulled her against him, reveling in the way she sank into his touch.

"Look at you," he murmured, ducking his head to press kisses along her throat. He dipped his hand, pressing the pads of his fingers to her bud, watching her arch above him, “I’ve barely touched you, little songbird,” his lips parted, groaning as he swiped his fingers through the slick that had gathered between her legs, “Is this all for me?” he panted, trailing a path of openmouthed kisses over her shoulder, hissing as he felt her fingers twist in his hair, yanking on the short silver gold strands.

“Yours,” she gasped out, her breath coming out shaky and tremulous.

She dug her fingers into the linens, gripping them tightly as her back lifted up, arching like a cat.

"Do you wish for me to stop?” he asked in-between the kisses he pressed against the column of her throat.

She shook her head quickly, curling her body tighter around his, her instrument forgotten once again, “Please-”

“Listen to you,” he rasped, “Begging for me so prettily,” he added a second finger and she mewled, not bothering to make any further attempt to be quiet.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning at the feeling of her clenching around his fingers, stars bursting and erupting behind his eyelids.

“My instrument-” she protested breathlessly as the sound of the wooden instrument clattering over the side of the bed and onto the floor sounded over the sounds of her pleasure.

“I’ll purchase you a new one,” he promised absentmindedly, a sheen of sweat covering his skin, the heat between them nearly boiling in its intensity, a gratuitous result of the steadily rising sun, “I swear it,” he said as her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back to her mouth, “I’ll purchase anything you desire,” he mumbled as she let out another cry.

His head lowered, the warmth of his breath fanning over her skin as he moved down to settle between her thighs, the shorn, uneven ends of his hair brushing over her stomach like a bird’s feather.

He felt her legs trembling as she writhed under him as he buried his face between her legs, the lewd sounds of his mouth on her echoing loudly in the same breath as the other noises she made.

Her moans were an entirely different form of music, clear and sharp and sweet like the bells that had rang in the city after the births of Jaehaera and Jaehaerys and Maelor. He lifted his head, pressing a kiss to her hip. His eyes met hers, gold on violet as he rested his chin on her stomach, one arm curving around her waist, content to just watch her.

He rolled onto his back, hands finding home on her hips.

“You’re not playing fair,” she grumbled breathlessly, groaning in tandem with him as she sank onto him.

He huffed out a laugh at that, only for it to fade as he grimaced, pain flaring in his shoulders where her fingers dug into his flesh, the sharp edges of her nails sure to leave marks later. He tugged her hands away to kiss her palms as emotion after emotion raced through him, one after the other like a serpent swallowing their own tail.

“When have I ever done that?” he said lowly, one corner of his mouth curving upwards.

Her head fell back as she twisted her hips, hands braced on his chest, fingers hovering inches from his collarbones. The intoxication that had been in her eyes before is still there, echoed just as potently in his own now.

“The day grows late,” she commented after her breathing had steadied and quietness swept over the chamber once more, her gaze focused on the windowpane as she curled around him, watching the sun rise higher and higher, resting her head on his shoulder as she traced shapeless patterns against his skin with the tips of her fingers lightly, “Perhaps I should go-”

He clucked his tongue, pulling her flush against him, “There is nowhere else you should be but here,” he murmured, a pleasant drowsy tiredness settling over him like ice over a river, the fear that she would leave hovering faintly in the back of his mind as it always did.

Her sighs echoed softly in his ears as she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his as she traced over the lines etched deep into the flesh of his palm.

It was the moments like this, tucked away with her flush against him, his nose buried in her hair, hidden away from the leeches and the vipers of the court, that were a balm, soothing in a way he did not know quite what to name, but craved it all the same the calm that settled over him as she nestled further into his arms, his restlessness fading slowly like ripples on the surface of a lake.

He dreamed sometimes of fleeing in the dead of night with her, going somewhere, anywhere, where no one would ever find them. To Lys or Meereen or even further. But those were but the stuff of dreams; childish and unattainable.

She was his, and he would bathe the realm in dragonfire before he ever let her go.

#my fics #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon smut #aegon targaryen #hotd fics

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imodnaweeklyanniversary · 3 months

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Day 204

Imodna has been canon for 29 weeks (11 days in-game)

Outside of game, Laura gifted Marisha a ring. It features two entwined snakes wrapped around a single ruby, the same design as the one Imogen bought for Laudna in episode 25.

#critical role #imogen temult #laudna #imodna #laudna x imogen #cr spoilers #cr3 #marisha ray #laura bailey

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allaboutrings · 8 months

Text

Antique 14k Gold Diamond and Ruby Snake Ring

#Rings #Jewelry #Diamond #Ruby #Snakes #Antique #Size 5.25

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passionateseadruid · 13 days

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Snake King’s Bride

Warning: Profanity (The F bomb), unhealthy relationships, human sacrifice, deals with the devil. (Why tf am I writing this 😭(because I had an idea and it wouldn’t get out of my head that’s why)) Other warnings may be added.

Part one The Exchange

You were so excited to move out and go to college. But in this economy everything is expensive, so you got a roommate and a job at this adorable little thrift store. (Employee discount for the win).

“Bye, Lilian! I’m off to work!”

“Okay! I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up!”

“Alright! If you feel unsafe or if you want to leave the concert early feel free to call me!”

“Okay!”

You made your way to your job and entered the shop.

“Kaitlyn I’m here!”

“Oh hey! Come in come in! I was just reorganizing some stuff.” She stood on a chair as she swapped some things on shelfs, next to her lay a bag of flower petals (fake ones most likely).

“Anything new or interesting get dropped off?”

“My step-sister Regan dropped off a ring earlier today.” She said hopping down.

“Ooh! What does it look like?”

“It’s gold and it’s shaped like a snake coiled around your finger. And it’s eating a little ruby in the shape of an apple.”

“Can I see it?”

“You’re… interested?”

“I guess you could say so.”

She smiled, almost exited and relieved at once. “I’ll go get it.”

She left and after a few minutes you were worried so you went to find her and you heard her talking in the break room.

“…

I promise she’s perfect

…

Trust me! Rea Rea doesn’t have to get hurt

…

See?!

…

Oh thank you!” She walked out of the break room and you hid behind a clothing rack.

You pretended to be coming back from the bathroom. “Hey, I just want to say that I hope you know I’m here for you if you need anything. Like I know this is out of pocket but I thought I’d tell you because we’re getting close.”

“I’m fine. Here’s the ring.”

“This is beautiful!”

“Put it on!”

“What? Why?” You laughed.

“Why not? I won’t tell. Just do it.”

“Okay but only for a minute.” You slipped it on. “Okay that’s enough… why won’t it come off?”

“It’s… not coming off?” Kaitlyn asked nervously.

“I’m going to see if I can loosen it with maybe some soap or something. Where did your sister get this ring by the way?!” You yelled from the bathroom. The shop was usually empty on weekdays so you didn’t really care about how loud you were being.

“Um… my little sister said that it was a family heirloom to be passed down to the first woman born into that family on her 20th birthday.”

“Okaaaay…”

“I’m not finding anything; but while you have that ring on why don’t we have some fun!”

“What do you mean by that?” You asked cautiously.

“Why don’t we just pretend that you’re getting married?”

“What?” You laughed.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!”

"Why not?" You smiled.

You pulled out an old wedding dress and the matching shoes. She arranged the flower petals from before in a circular pattern and placed some candles around. "I think this dress might be a bit big on me."

"I'll grab some safety pins." Kaitlyn smiled.

You changed into the dress and when you went to zip it up it felt like the dress shrunk to fit snuggly on you. It was a white ballgown dress with a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves. She then changed into some white close toed wedges with faux gemstones dangling from the strap. It felt like the shoes were expanding as you slipped into them. "Huh, everything is a perfect fit." You then slipped on a chocker that had two rows of pearls and a big diamond in the center and finally placed the veil that came with the dress on top of your head.

Stepping out Kaitlyn had adjusted the veil to cover your face and lead you over to the ring of flowers. "Okay stand here for a second."

"Kaitlyn, something doesn't feel right about this." You said as you stepped into the circle.

"Shut up."

"Excuse you!"

Kaitlyn starts speaking in Latin as you try to step out of the circle. "Kaitlyn stop! You're scaring me!" A forcefield stopped you from leaving the circle. "What the fuck? What the fuck is this? Let me out!"

A fiery rift slices through the air and a dark demonic voice calls out.

"Please, Dark King of hell take her as your bride in exchange for Regan!"

"Deal now leave me be."

"What NO!" You screamed as the floor erupted from under you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #vivziepop #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin #hazbin lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer x reader #yandere lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #yandere lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin yandere lucifer #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer hazbin #Hazbin Lucifer Morningstar x reader

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ladykissingfish · 4 months

Note

I love how your writing style reads like short stories ☺️ Questiok: I don’t know if this is a ship you like or not but can you do Tobimada or madatobi?

I know you sent this quite a while ago but I thought I’d save it for Madara’s day. Here ya go!

*in Tobirama and Madara’s bedroom, early in the morning*

Madara: *reaches over and punches the sleeping Tobirama’s shoulder*

Madara: Oi, Senju bastard, wake up! It’s the most important day of the year!!

Tobirama: *yawns and turns on his side* While Christmas Eve is indeed an important day, I don’t think I’d call it the most important day of the year. Go back to bed.

Madara, scowling: Christmas Eve? Take that back before I incinerate you to ashes, you asshole.

Tobirama: Why would you do that for me stating the obvious? It IS Christmas Eve. Nothing else. Right?? Or … am I missing something?

Madara: *sighing and turning over* No, no, you’re right. How silly of me; I’ll just go back to sl —

Madara: *stops; looks at his hand for the first time. there’s a new ring on his pointer finger, a silver band with a ruby in the center, flanked on either side by a small white diamond*

Madara, sitting up and holding out his hand: T-Tobi! When did you —

Tobirama, smiling and also sitting up: When you were sleeping. Do you like it?

Madara, softly: It’s beautiful. Red and white; my powerful eyes and your blindingly bright albino skin.

Tobirama: Gee, thanks. Anyways … *rolls over on top of Madara and kisses him* Happy birthday, you insufferable prick.

Madara: *kissing him back* Thanks, you horrible human. But is the ring all I get? Because … *slides his hands down Tobirama’s waist* I can think of something else I want even more ~

Tobirama: Ah, that might have to wait until later, Uchiha. I don’t think our guests would enjoy hearing you scream.

Madara: Guests? What —

*heard out in the kitchen*

Izuna: Senju. For the love of God, go home.

Hashirama: I can’t go home! Madara is my best friend! How would he feel if I didn’t at least make him breakfast on his birthday?!

Izuna: Relieved! To avoid the food poisoning! GO HOME!

Hashirama: Why the hell do YOU get to make him breakfast then?!

Izuna: He’s my big brother!! I’ve made him breakfast in bed on his birthday for years and years! And besides, you can’t cook!

Hashirama: Yes I can!! Look at how perfect my French toast turned out!

Izuna: It’s burnt around the edges and soggy in the middle!

Hashirama, sounding close to tears: Madara will appreciate my effort, at least. Now let me through!

Izuna: You know what? Fine! *the sound of plates being smashed on the floor* Walk over that in your bare feet and you can bring him breakfast!

Hashirama: Are you crazy?! We picked up those plates at the last flea market we went to! They’re a symbol of our undying friendship!

Izuna: Oh? Well in that case … *throws more plates on the ground* Now they’re a symbol of garbage. Just like you and your entire clan.

Hashirama: You little asshole! I should —

*back in the bedroom*

Madara: Good God … were WE that obnoxious during our courtship?

Tobirama: Well you did break quite a few glasses over my head. And who could forget that time you mailed a package of venomous snakes to my office …

Madara: Heh. I really did like you.

Tobirama: I know. *leans over and kisses him* It’s up to you, birthday boy. Should we go out there and break them up, or should we stay cuddled up for a few more hours?

Madara: I —

*from the kitchen, the sound of Izuna using his katon to light things on fire and Hashirama screaming*

Madara: *burying his head against Tobirama’s chest* They’ll be fine. Worse comes to worse we can always get a new house.

Tobirama: Mm.

#ask #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MADARA!!!#your balls are huge and you’ve done nothing wrong ever #fuck Christmas Eve it’s Madara’s birthday #tobimada #madatobi #tobirama x madara #hashiizu #hashirama x izuna #their marriages were arranged by their fathers as political marriages but haha jokes on you they actually like each other #tobirama senju #hashirama senju #izuna uchiha #madara uchiha

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bil-daddy · 7 months

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Update on Proposing to Aziraphale

Shhh don't tell @mrazfellco, it's still a secret. Thanks for not telling him, @theangelyouknew

So, the results of the Ring Poll are in!

The winner was Ring A, with a little under half of the vote. Blue box, silver snake, obsidian eyes.

Ring C was a close second. Black box, silver snake, ruby eyes.

@ar1mas and @vankaar noticed the ouroboros symbolism of the third ring.

@iamyourdensityy was astonished it didn't win.

@kiralena also voiced support for Ring C

@onlylurkingreadingstuff suggested putting Ring C in Ring A's box.

Which I did consider

along with a yellow-eyed option, suggested by @adriennelikesstuff

as well as yellow eyed option for the original Ring A

as @quicksilvyr5 and @ineffablecollision suggested.

There wasn't as much love for Ring B, which I admit was the gaudier choice. But as @vammppyre and @amagnificentobsession pointed out, it was also the only gold option and Aziraphale is a gold girlie.

So I realized I had some more work to do on finding @mrazfellco the perfect ring. My angel has particular tastes and he deserves only the best. Might even have to make one for him myself.

Stay tuned everyone.

Luckily, I've already got two bridesmaids (gn) lined up, @phoen1xr0se, who volunteered

and @ineffablegays13 who called me and @mrazfellco a cute couple, so I'm volunteering him.

@one-coming-is-enough is going to release doves at the wedding (if @mrazfellco says yes)

(if I missed anyone from the replies or reblogs, it was unintentional, not ignoring you)

#bildaddy #shutanic temple #bildad the shuhite #bildad nation #have an ox rib (platonic)#bildad brainrot #oh bildad the shuhite we're really in it now #bildad the shuhite army #bildad my beloved #oh bildad we're really in it now #My Proposal to Aziraphale #have an engagement ring (romantic)

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 4 months

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Semper Eadem (iv, ao3)

Chapter four: In the aftermath of the jousting match, Elizabeth and her court go hunting, where Cassian has conspired to get Nesta alone.

(chapter one // chapter two // chapter three)

Nesta wasn’t thinking of the joust.

As the morning after dawned bright and clear, full of promise and expectation, she swore to God and all the old saints above that her mind would not stray to yesterday. She willed resolution in her chest, begged for strength, and as the sky lightened beyond the lead-paned windows of the Queen’s chamber, she focused instead on dressing her mistress. She refused to remember the tiltyard beyond those stone walls— kept her thoughts far from that bastard-born son of a nobleman who had so decidedly won command of her heart, like it were just another treasure he had plundered.

Obstinate, she clenched her jaw.

No.

By almighty God, she was not thinking about it.

Around her, the ladies of the royal household tittered and laughed, the soft sounds of shifting fabric filling the chamber as Nesta tied the ribbons on the Queen’s kirtle. A steady thrum of excitement hung heavy in the air, so thick it was palpable, and beyond the glass, not a single cloud marred the blue of the August sky.

There was to be a hunt, today.

A column of bright golden sunlight blazed through the chamber as the Queen angled a small Venetian mirror, its gilded frame heavy in one lithe hand as she tilted the glass to better glimpse her reflection. Her Tudor-red hair was afire in the morning light, her painted skin as pale as chalk, and glimmering she stood in the centre of her rooms, bedecked in so much wealth it was nigh on incalculable. Assessing, the sovereign let out a single contented hum.

What she saw pleased her.

And Nesta did not disagree— the dress alone could rival the work of the great Italian masters.

The fabric was light in colour, a pale cream with embroidered roses and vines picked out in such detail it was almost enough to stun. A threaded thistle sat above the Queen’s ribs, and on her left sleeve a large needlework snake was coiled, studded with pearls and gems, and from its mouth dangled a small ruby charm— heart shaped, and surrounded by golden thread, silver cloth, and shining, opalescent pearls.

The snake was Nesta’s favourite part of this particular dress.

An emerald no bigger than a fingernail served as the serpent’s eye, and its tongue was rendered in a line of golden thread darting from between embroidered silver teeth to hold that small ruby heart. A symbol of wisdom and cunning, the snake was everything that Elizabeth represented, everything she valued, and the message wasn’t lost on Nesta as she circled the Queen and brushed a hand over the jewels that made up the serpent’s curled and curving tail.

Her sovereign was as slippery and as dangerous as an adder, one that had used the sharp edges of her diamonds to carve a space of her own in a world shaped for the pleasures of men.

And that ought to have been distraction enough, but no matter how many times Nesta hauled herself back to the present…

Her dastardly eyes wandered to the window, and despite the promises she’d made to the Lord above, she damned her soul when she caught sight of the tiltyard beyond the glass, where a privateer had competed for her honourand—

“Are you looking forward to the hunt, your majesty?”

Nesta tried to not startle as Blanche, the Keeper of Her Majesty’s Jewels, stepped forward and voiced her question, bearing in her hands an oak jewellery box with the lid lifted open. Inside, nestled in velvet, lay a staggering number of pearls and jewels and gems, shining in every colour.

Elizabeth was silent a moment, handing off her mirror to another of her ladies as her fingers trailed idle over the priceless objects before her, hovering above diamonds and sapphires and emeralds and rubies. Before she answered, she plucked up a ring set with a large ruby and extended it out, holding it towards Nesta in one smooth movement.

“Ah,” she said breezily, waving her hand, and as the sunlight refracted off the myriad jewels scattered across the fabric of her dress, shards of red and silver light danced across the floorboards, “you know that I do so love to hunt.”

The Queen extended a hand as she spoke, and Nesta slid the ring the sovereign had chosen onto her waiting finger. Another of her ladies draped a necklace of pearls around her neck, and if for one brief moment they reminded Nesta of the pearl that hung customarily from Cassian’s ear…

She forced the thought away, and focused on straightening the Queen’s sleeve, her eyes returning to the snake.

But it’s spine was a line of more pearls— to symbolise wealth and purity, virginity, and it shouldn’t have reminded her of Cassian, of the one set in gold that shone amidst his dark curls. After all, Cassian could lay claim to neither wealth nor virginity, and yet the one he wore was a symbol nonetheless. Nesta brushed her hand over the Queen’s sleeve, and thought that perhaps his pearl was instead a symbol of something precious, something rare. Something plucked from the ocean and brought home to treasure.

Oh, the joust had softened her.

That was for certain.

Her conviction had already been wavering when she’d read Cassian’s letters, and seeing him race down the tiltyard yesterday had all but secured his forgiveness. The flames of her anger had burned away to nothing, and now when she thought of him—

She heard his laugh, saw his rakish smile, and felt her heart beat a little faster inside her chest. Like she were a witless maiden, borne of nothing but dreams and naïveté; like she hadn’t spent years at the royal court, growing as used to politicking as she was breathing. Cassian had made her yearn for real romance again, the way she had once as a girl, when her father had told her of Arthur and Guinevere, of Tristan and Isolde, and all those famous tales that made her heart swell. Oh, after years of ruthless pragmatism and the endless facade of courtly love, she thought her desire for the real thing had been stifled, strangled, but it had resurfaced now, more fervent than ever before. And when he’d bowed before her in the tiltyard, his helm cast aside and his face aglow with triumph…

Her hand fell away from the serpent on the Queen’s arm.

God— she needed to focus.

She pulled her awareness back in time to hear Blanche ask of Elizabeth,

“Will the Earl of Leicester be your hunting partner?”

Nesta paused.

It was a bold question— so bold that if anybody but the most favoured of her ladies had asked it, the Queen might have found reason to divorce a head from some shoulders. After all, they had all of them heard the rumours. Leicester and the Queen had been close friends since childhood— and there were whispers that perhaps it was once more than friendship, and might someday be something more again, if Leicester got his way. He had organised this entire pageant in the Queen’s honour, a gesture far grander than any he could reasonably have been expected to lay at his Queen’s feet. But as Nesta looked up, half expecting to find fury in the lines of the Queen’s face, instead she found her monarch’s mouth pulling into a coy smile, one that said Elizabeth would allow the question.

“I think perhaps he shall,” she answered.

Nesta remained silent, only rounded the Queen to stand before her. She assessed the dress, the jewels, straightening the pearl necklace that twice circled her throat before hanging down to her navel. Elizabeth merely tilted her head in the wake of Nesta’s ministrations, causing the lace of her ruff to tremble.

“And what of you, Mistress Archeron?” she asked. “Who shall be your partner?”

Nesta did not blink, did not pause, did not hesitate.

“Who should you like it to be, your majesty?” she asked, tilting her head in an echo of the monarch’s stance. Approval glimmered in Elizabeth’s eyes, a rare jewel of its own.

“Northumberland, perhaps?” the Queen ventured. “Master Vanserra seemed most determined to compete for your honour yesterday.”

Nesta’s mind flicked back once more to the joust - her soul be damned - and to the way Cassian had almost killed Eris in the tiltyard. As if the Queen could read her mind, Elizabeth snorted and said, smoothly,

“Or Master Cassian?” She tapped Nesta on the wrist with one long, thin finger. “My handsome Bat seems to have an eye on you, dove.”

Nesta forced herself to shrug.

“Perhaps he does, majesty.”

She fought a smile, and Elizabeth hummed. Mirth danced at the corners of her lips, and even though she didn’t approve of her ladies marrying, something about the joust yesterday had humoured her. Perhaps it was the way Cassian had bowed to his Queen, or the way he had cast off his helm and looked up to the stands in such a perfect display of chivalry that Nesta half thought he might have plucked it from the pages of some Arthurian romance. Either way, something had snared the Queen’s attention, but Nesta was not fool enough to say anything more. She merely took a single step back and bowed her head as the Queen smoothed a hand down her skirts one final time.

“Well,” she said, her tone one of musing. “Perhaps we shall see.”

A moment later the Queen clapped her hands, the sound sharp and cutting in the silence of her chambers. As the rest of her ladies waited for instruction, Elizabeth looked the window and allowed another serpentine smile to grace her lips. Her eyes were lit with purpose as she lifted her chin and said, with all the authority and determination only a monarch could muster,

“Let us hunt.”

***

It seemed, Nesta thought from atop her horse a half hour later, that all of England had descended upon Warwickshire to bask in the majesty of the Queen.

Riding two or three abreast in a great train behind Elizabeth, the hunting party stretched across the grounds all the way back towards the castle— all noblemen and horses, ladies and squires and hunting dogs. Trumpeters and drummers followed too, and a host of staff from the kitchens carried the baskets containing the food they would lay out at noon for dinner. Sheaths of arrows were slung across backs, crossbows stowed in saddlebags, and the drumming mirrored the footfalls of the horses as beyond the castle walls, Kenilworth’s expansive lawns began to slope before eventually giving way to lush woodland.

Grand— it was all so immeasurably grand.

Ahead, the Queen’s standard fluttered in the breeze, held aloft by a standard bearer, the embroidered lion shining golden beneath the morning sun. All the trappings of royalty gleamed— the richness of the Queen’s dress, the pearls that had been threaded through her hair; a glimmering vanguard as the trees of the forest grew closer. And at Elizabeth’s right, just as Blanche had suspected, rode the earl of Leicester.

As casually and as easily as if it were the only place in the world that suited him, Robert Dudley filled the space at the sovereign’s side, and their heads were inclined towards one another as they spoke, their horses so close their flanks almost touched. The breeze carried behind them the sound of Elizabeth’s laughter, and as Leicester glanced sideways at his Queen, Nesta saw a flash of teeth, a wide smile beneath the brim of his hat, and she knew with unerring certainty that the earl was in love— so desperately and madly in love that it warranted all of this display, all of this pageantry.

And the reminder that all of this grandeur was on the behalf of a man simply trying to turn a woman’s head…

Well, it was foolish perhaps, and more than a touch sentimental, but… charming, too.

And after all, hadn’t Cassian done something similar yesterday— something just as foolish? When he’d all but declared war on Eris, one of the richest dukes in England, because he had dared to ask her for her favour?

She shook her head, pushed the thought away, and kept her gaze straight ahead.

On the Queen’s left was Rhysand, riding silent and all but ignored. His heavy chain of office was draped over his shoulders, and the gold was bright against the deep black of his doublet. He wore a cap with a raven feather at the top too, and though from her position behind him she could not see his face, she could see his hands gripping the reins of his horse— could see, too, his velvet gloves, and the three rings he wore atop his gloves on each hand. His shoulders were stiff, and Nesta smirked.

If there was one thing Lord Rhysand did not appreciate, it was being overlooked, and with Leicester by her side, the Queen had no attention to spare for her dark-haired councillor.

The sight should not have made Nesta as smug as it did.

On Nesta’s own left rode Madge, another of the Queen’s ladies. At their backs was the Duke of Northumberland and one of his many brothers, and Nesta did not think it a coincidence that he had managed to secure such a spot in the procession trailing behind the Queen. Indeed, as she had stood in the courtyard and mounted her horse, Eris had offered her his hand, and though Nesta had not accepted his assistance, he had bowed his head anyway, before taking her own hand and placing a fleeting kiss to the back of her fingers.

She had never been so thankful to have been wearing riding gloves.

Beside her Madge was silent, as if she could tell that her riding partner was entirely preoccupied with her own thoughts. A frown almost creased Nesta’s brow, and she almost considered striking up conversation, but then her eyes fell to her gloved hands tight on her reins, and all she could think was—

I hope Cassian did not bear witness to that ridiculous kiss.

It was a thought as ridiculous in itself as the kiss Eris that had dropped on her hand, but one that persisted nonetheless. So consumed was she by it that the world and all its noise seemed to fade away, until—

“Mistress Radcliffe,” a smooth and all too familiar voice said easily from the empty space at Nesta’s right. Her heart kicked in answer as Madge turned her head, eyebrows rising as she beheld who addressed her. “My lord Azriel asks for you. He wishes to give you news of your brother in Ireland before the hunt begins.”

Cassian did not let his eyes stray to Nesta as he bowed his head; a vision of courtesy.

Madge smiled wide. It was no secret that she missed her brother, sent over to Ireland on the Queen’s orders. A lady from the north, she missed her family greatly, and it was no surprise to Nesta when she nodded her head and gave her thanks before turning around and leading her horse back along the procession that trailed them, to the space about four riders back, where the Queen’s spy had been riding beside the privateer and now sat alone.

Nesta looked behind as Cassian’s horse fell into step behind her. Quietly, she thought she heard Northumberland curse.

“Lady Nesta,” Cassian said in greeting, his voice light and airy as if this were the most ordinary of meetings.

But— merciful God, have pity on her soul.

Would she ever tire of the way her name sounded on his lips? Or the way he imbued it with something that felt like intimacy somehow? Lady Nesta, not Mistress Archeron. She thought back to his letters, how he’d penned her name with such an elaborate flourish. Even on a rocking ship, when ink and time were short for him, he’d written her name like it meant something. She glanced sidelong at him, trying to focus on the rhythm of the horse beneath her, the gentle trot of the hooves. But one look and she was at sea all over again, her sentimentality like a storm that threatened to send her under.

His doublet was the deep red of Burgundian wine, shot through with silver buttons in the centre of his broad chest, and for one foolish and ill-advised moment Nesta let her eyes wander, following that path of silver to where his doublet met his breeches.

God have pity, indeed.

Seated atop his horse, the privateer beside her cleared his throat and Nesta hauled her gaze back up— to a level far more befitting a lady of the Queen’s household. She took in, instead, the slashed sleeves of his doublet that split to reveal a crisp white shirt sitting beneath, and the dark cloak draped effortlessly over his shoulders. A delicate ruff rose from his collar and just barely grazed the edge of his jaw, and oh, lord— this man was beautiful. A velvet bonnet was balanced at a damn near rakish angle atop his curls, and as he brought his stallion into a trot beside her, the feather adorning it shivered in the breeze.

Beneath his unflinching gaze, and despite the heat, Nesta felt herself shiver too.

“Feeling cold, my lady?”

Damn him.

She cleared her throat, and refused to take note of the way several of those curls escaped his bonnet and lay tangled above his ruff, right against the bare skin of his neck.

“Master Cassian,” she said mildly, looking decidedly straight ahead to where the Queen and Leicester still spoke together in low murmurs. “Can I help you?”

He grinned. “Back to Master, are we?”

“Would you have me call you something else?”

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, dropping his voice so low it was almost sinful, “I’d have you call me several things.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and tried to force down the blood that rose to her cheeks.

“You are incorrigible.”

“Indeed,” he said brightly, tipping his head back and inhaling deeply, drawing the summer air deep into his lungs. He tightened his grip on the reins, his gloved hands pulling as the riders ahead of them began to slow— as the line of trees at the forest edge grew nearer still.

And Nesta thought she must have lost her mind, because when she looked at those gloves, for a moment she found herself mourning the fact that she could not see the bare skin of his hands as his fist tightened.

“Tell me— did my lord Azriel really wish to speak with Madge?”

Sidelong, Cassian smirked.

“In truth, no,” he said with an easy shrug. “But it is no lie that he received reports from Ireland this morning. It is entirely possible there was something about Mistress Radcliffe’s brother in there.” He shot her a grin, before adding brightly, “I merely thought to join your hunting party, if you’ll have me.”

“I fear I am not much of a hunter,” Nesta answered with a shrug of her own, a slow lift of one shoulder. “My sister was always far better at it than I.”

He shot her a dazzling smile, one edged with mischief. “And yet I am certain we can find some creature for you to bring down.” He glanced behind him, to Eris and his brother. “A fox, perhaps.”

“Perhaps the fox was brought low enough already after yesterday’s joust.”

“The fox remains presumptuous,” Cassian shrugged. His gaze dropped, eyes turning flat as they alighted briefly on her hand, and Nesta’s heart sank a little as she realised that yes, Cassian had indeed witnessed that ridiculous little kiss. “He still thinks to take what is mine.”

“Yours?” Nesta asked incredulously, glancing once over her shoulder, ensuring Eris was still too lost in his own conversation to overhear. Looking ahead, she saw with thanks that the Queen was still too preoccupied to take note, too. “After such a long time away?”

Cassian lifted one hand from the reins and waved it. Like Rhysand, he too had rings decorating his fingers above the velvet, and they gleamed now, the gold bright.

“I thought we’d been over this, sweetheart?”

She blinked, imperious. “You’ve been over this, sir. As far as I recall, I said little on the matter.”

He snorted. “You said much,” he countered simply. “You’ve had me grovelling for days.”

“Grovelling?” she raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t mask the smile that began to spread across her face. “I haven’t seen you on your knees once.”

His eyes darkened. “And is that what it will take, my lady?” He tilted his head, the pearl in his ear brushing the lace of the ruff that peeked from the neck of his doublet. “For my forgiveness, you would have me on my knees?”

She was silent for a moment, and a wicked smirk curved his lips.

“Trust me, love, I am more than willing.”

Her breath caught, her blood raced. His meaning was obvious, and with the way that smirk turned almost devilish, she knew that the blush that rose to her cheeks had amused him— pleased him. Her treacherous heart beat a little faster - a lot faster - and she was about to reproach him for daring to speak so boldly in the presence of a lady of the royal household, but—

The horns sounded, and the dogs began to bark, and the party at last reached the tree line. With a wave of the Queen’s hand, lifted into the air, every one of them fell silent.

Cassian pressed a gloved finger to his lips and winked, and Nesta was so momentarily undone by the gesture that she almost set her horse into a straight gallop. She pulled hard on the reins, knuckles straining above the leather, and when she turned, she saw laughter dancing in those damned eyes.

She tore her gaze away, focusing forwards— on Rhysand and the Queen and Leicester.

Slowly they made their way beneath the cover of the trees, delving farther and father into the woodland. The sound grew muffled, the heavy canopy above cloaking the rest of the world from view, and all around them was birdsong and the snap of breaking branches as the great trail of courtiers and servants began to split into smaller groups.

It would have been impossible for the entire party to have remained unnoticed by their quarry, and so— in groups no larger than a dozen, the entire court slipped away, and as Nesta looked over her shoulder when the initial flurry of activity died down, she found nobody behind them now, only the greenery of the forest and the birds in the trees above.

The Queen’s personal hunting party had narrowed, leaving only Elizabeth and Leicester, flanked by Rhysand and two more ladies-in-waiting. Madge and Azriel had joined them too, along with one more member of the Queen’s council. Nesta and Cassian brought the total to ten.

Leicester retrieved a crossbow from his saddlebag, and handed it across the distance to his Queen. Elizabeth grinned.

A hush had fallen, and ahead Rhysand looked over his shoulder and scanned the members of the small group. Catching Cassian’s eye, he seemed to give an exasperated sigh before rolling his eyes and giving the privateer one brief, sharp, nod. Nesta did not much understand the silent and secret language Cassian seemed to share with his brother in arms, but it did not take a master codebreaker to decipher that particular message.

Alright, that nod seemed to say. I’ll do as you ask.

In answer, Cassian grinned.

And as Azriel manoeuvred his horse around them, leaving Nesta and Cassian at the back of the assembly, Rhysand pointed between the dense copse of trees ahead, where the light above was dim and the forest pressed in on all sides.

“There!” he said loudly, his voice startling the birds nesting in the nearest tree. “Over there, your majesty!”

Elizabeth whipped her head to the side, sharp eyes assessing the direction Rhysand’s finger still pointed. Before Nesta could blink, the Queen’s smile had widened, the hunt upon her, and she kicked in her heels and sent her horse barrelling through the trees— at a speed so reckless her other councillor cursed soundly before setting his horse to follow.

Rhysand’s black stallion charged ahead, but before Nesta could urge her own mare forwards, another hand gripped her reins.

Cassian held tight, and as the rest of the hunting party darted quickly between the trees, Cassian inclined his head to the side, nodding in the other direction. His smile grew as the sound of the racing horses faded, and when he let go of the reins at last, he did not retract his hand. Instead, he extended it further, turned his palm to the sky. A silent offer, unspoken question.

Come with me, that hand said.

And Nesta knew it was a bad idea to follow him through the wood.

Knew it was reckless, to go off with him alone.

Her reputation could end up in tatters. She could lose her position in the Queen’s household.

And yet…

His smile was somehow sweet and devilish at the same time, simultaneously the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and the harbinger of her own ruin.

She should have said no.

But God save her…

She didn’t.

Instead, she placed her hand in his, feeling her heart kick as his fingers folded over her own. He drew her closer, until he could lift her hand to his mouth, and without looking away, he kissed the glove above her knuckles. She fought a shiver, and though earlier when Eris had kissed her hand she had thanked the Lord for riding gloves, now she cursed them— abhorred them.

She felt the warmth of his hand sinking through her gloves, and oh, she only wished she could feel his touch against her bare skin, feel the smoothness of his kiss as the trees hid them from view.

At last he blinked, breaking his gaze and flicking his eyes down to the fingers he still had pressed against his lips.

A moment, an age, or a heartbeat later, he let her hand drop. And before Nesta had time to collect herself, Cassian dug in his heels and sent his horse through the trees, looking back over his shoulder, as if unwilling to draw his eyes away.

And when they were alone, with only the two of them riding almost silently, slowly, through the density of the trees, she dared to look at him again as he adjusted the crossbow that now sat across his lap, though neither of them seemed really intent on hunting anything at all.

For a long time, there was silence— as if they were both of them afraid of being overheard. The air between them shifted, growing softer, as if the quiet gave rise to vulnerability. Suddenly, there were a thousand things Nesta wanted to say, a thousand words drifting to her lips, but in truth, she had no real idea of where or how to begin. Instead she watched the forest ahead of her, studied the way the leaves above swallowed the light, and let the silence stretch. And stretch, and stretch, and stretch, until—

At last, the privateer broke it.

“You said you wanted me on my knees,” he began softly. “But what else do I need do to prove myself to you?”

He looked at her imploringly, the rogue cast aside, and Nesta’s heart suddenly began to strain, each beat laboured. Nothing— she knew she ought to tell him nothing, because no matter how much she wanted it, how much desire she carried, how could this ever end well between them?

Cassian studied her face.

“Do I need to sail to a distant land and claim it in your honour? Name a settlement after you? Bring you back a ream of treasure?”

She was silent, and his eyes were lined with a wealth of desperation that gave the lie to his bravado.

“Or shall I cast off my cloak before you and lay it over puddles, so your silk slippers may never touch the ground? Or—“

Nesta shook her head, and when she opened her mouth, his voice died to make way for hers. But her words grew tangled in her throat, and she hesitated— even though she never hesitated. She closed her mouth and sighed once more, and atop his horse Cassian smiled a little sadly, with so much longing her own heart ached, and when she looked at him…

Oh, he was the road her heart begged her to travel, even though it was one she knew in all good sense she wouldn’t be able to see through to its end. What was the point in letting herself fall, only to be hurt again when he left? Or when her father succeeded in tying her to some wealthy duke— if not Northumberland, then some other who came along? What was the point in any of it?

Love, a small and starving part of her whispered. The love the poets write about, the kind the troubadours sing about. The kind that makes you feel the way you do now, ready to cast off the world and find home in the arms of this one man.

As if he could see her battling with herself, Cassian drew his horse closer to hers— so close she could almost feel his warmth.

“You should know,” he said quietly, and whether the whisper in his voice was because of the need to stay hidden or the vulnerability of his words, she wasn’t sure, “that your letters were a greater treasure to me than anything I could take or steal from any ship on the high seas. Greater to me than any ransom any king could demand.”

A heartbeat passed, one where her heart seemed to thud so loudly in her chest that she feared the flock of deer they were pretending to hunt might hear it and flee.

Charming— did he always have to be so damned charming?

And God— would it be so bad, to tell him that he already had her forgiveness? Would it be so terrible, to tell him that despite it all she was his, if not in body but in mind and soul at least?

She was speechless for a moment, and he managed a weak sort of grin at her evident surprise.

And then—

The trees thinned, and a clearing lay spread before them, golden sunlight pooling in the centre like a small slice of Arcadia. Cassian sniffed a little, like the long grass and the wildflowers had irritated his nose, but still— there was beauty in that clearing, unspoiled and harmonious.

And— a doe.

A doe stood frozen in the middle, her ears pinned back as she caught sight of the approaching horses. The sunlight dappled across her white-spotted back, and as she slowly lifted one slim leg, ready to bolt, Nesta’s eyes drifted to the crossbow in Cassian’s lap.

She prayed he wouldn’t shoot.

But Cassian’s hand didn’t so much as twitch towards the weapon, as if he couldn’t find it in himself to hunt the creature either.

Yet on the other side of the clearing— there was the flash of auburn, the glint of an arrow.

Nesta’s heart lurched, and whether by design or divine intervention, beneath the hooves of Cassian’s horse a branch cleaved with a crack.

Readily, the deer bolted.

A curse sounded from the trees, where only a moment ago an arrow had been knocked and drawn, ready to be loosed.

“Privateer.” A snarling voice drifted from the tree line, sharp and cutting, and Nesta recognised it immediately— saw the auburn hair like burnished bronze as Eris came into view. “You just cost me my prize.”

The duke pointed to where the deer had escaped between the trees, and though the rest of his companions remained in the shadow of the forest, she thought she could make out a handful of their faces, two of them bearing that same auburn hair. His brothers. Eris’ sneer grew wider, more vicious, and as he turned his head to fix Nesta with a stare across the distance, she wondered if his prize hadn’t only been the doe, but her, too.

He brought his horse forwards into the clearing, further into the light, giving her an unrivalled view of the shining bruise that marred his temple.

He hadn’t taken his loss at the joust yesterday well, it seemed, and though he cast his eyes over Nesta once more, it was to Cassian that he returned his gaze, letting out a single, dissatisfied huff. The bruise stretched up to his hairline, a livid purple stark against his pale skin, and in everything else but that, he appeared every inch the nobleman. A ring sat on every finger, and his doublet was unbroken black. Like Rhysand, he too wore a livery collar draped across his chest and shoulders, but where the Queen’s councillor had a Tudor rose dangling from his chain of office, Eris had instead the badge of a dog, its head back, lifted as if howling at the sky.

He had a dagger out, too, presumably for slaying the deer, but the glint of the blade in the sunlight still promised bloodshed, and the way his hand flexed around the hilt said that it didn’t matter the doe had fled.

That dagger was to taste blood today, one way or another.

“Piss off, Northumberland,” Cassian said easily— but his own hand had strayed from his bow to the sword hanging at his hip, his wrist resting purposefully on the pommel.

Eris’ eyes flashed, quietly furious as his lip curled. “I will not stand to be insulted by one of such low standing.”

Cassian barked a laugh, but it was low and rough and dangerous. “You won’t stand for anything, sir, if I knock you from your horse as easily as I did yesterday.” He paused, and then added, “Shall I give you another bruise to decorate the other side of that pretty face?”

The duke sneered, but before he could let loose the insults that Nesta could see were rising to his tongue, there was a cacophony in the distance, and a hundred horns suddenly flaring loud enough to be heard all the way back at the castle.

It was a summoning— a call to arms, to usher Elizabeth’s court back to her as the sun reached its highest point in the sky and dinner was served in the great tents at the edge of the forest.

For the moment, at least, the hunt was at an end.

Eris twisted his head, looking behind him to the direction the horns had sounded. His brothers did not wait for him to make up his mind before they disappeared, following the call for food that was, apparently, of far greater worth to them than any loyalty they had for their brother.

Cassian bowed mockingly in the saddle, but his hand did not stray from easy reach of his blade, and when Eris turned back to them, his lips were a thin line.

“These woods are treacherous,” he said flatly. “It commands great skill as a rider to avoid the pitfalls that litter these grounds. You might have won the match yesterday, sir,” - the duke’s lips pulled back over his teeth - “but how about another match? Here and now?”

Nesta watched as Cassian grinned, almost feral.

“First to the Queen wins,” he said as he moved his horse forwards, drawing level with Eris’.

The duke’s face darkened, and the nod he gave was sharp before flicking his eyes to Nesta once more. As if this were another attempt at winning her, at securing her favour for a second time. Cassian’s smile fell away, leaving behind the same murderous expression that had fuelled him at the joust yesterday.

“For the lady’s honour, then,” Eris declared, every word imbued with venom.

And when Cassian nodded, looking behind him over his shoulder to give Nesta one final wink, Eris clenched his jaw before slamming his heels into his horse’s flank, sending the beast galloping through the trees.

Cassian swore, a curse so filthy she was sure he could only have picked it up at sea, and surged forwards, letting the forest swallow him.

But as Nesta followed, dipping beneath the cover of the trees, she saw that only the thinnest shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves above, leaving the forest floor just as treacherous as Eris had described. The ground was slick with mud, and even though the August heat ought to have dried it out, the summer sun had never made it to the ground here. Petrichor was thick in the air, and the long limbs of the trees snatched at the skirts of Nesta’s dress as she rode by them, wild and overgrown. Treacherous— this part of the forest was most definitely treacherous.

Indeed, Cassian could not ride as fast as he had yesterday, and neither could Eris, and it allowed Nesta to keep both the duke and the privateer in her sights as she followed behind, watching them weave through the trees in search of stable ground.

As her horse almost stumbled over the gnarled roots of a tree half concealed by fallen leaves, she wondered if stable ground even existed this far into the woodland, and as the wind brushed against her cheeks and another branch snagged on her cloak, she almost called out to stop the madness that had Cassian spurring his horse onwards, regardless of the danger.

The ground began to slope— sharp and steep, and it was madness, utter madness to continue—

Eris noted the slope, and Nesta watched as the duke swiftly studied the way the ground all but dropped away to reveal a small dell below, home to wide a stream that ran slow and idle through the undergrowth. Its banks were coated with mud, turning it slick and dangerous.

Wisely, he veered to the side, directing his horse around— to where the ground sloped more evenly. A longer path, but a safer one, and he looked back only once before disappearing into the trees, avoiding danger altogether.

But Cassian—

Irreverent, he glanced once over his shoulder. Manic, he grinned as he barrelled ahead, shooting Nesta a wink as he urged his horse faster still in Eris’ absence. The creature’s hooves slid in the mud, and Nesta called out his name, but Cassian had turned his face away, and if he heard her, he gave no indication.

Idiot.

She had no choice but to follow, and when he reached the banks of the stream, he did not stop. Instead he pressed in his heels, riding even faster, compelling the stallion to jump—

And Nesta watched as the horse made the jump, but its hooves slipped on the bank on the other side, its landing far from smooth.

And just as Eris had been thrown from his horse yesterday, now Cassian was thrown from his— but it was a fall that was far more treacherous, far more dangerous, and Nesta swore her heart stopped dead as she watched him land roughly, heard the muffled groan as the ground came up to meet him. Forgetting all notions of her own safety, she urged her horse faster, willing it to cross the stream his stallion had just jumped.

“You fool,” she hissed, feeling her horse whicker beneath her as she pushed the mare onwards. Cassian was lying on his back, a hand cast over his ribs as he looked up at the sky. “You could have broken your damned neck.”

Cassian twisted his head to look up at her as she pulled her horse to a halt.

“Got your attention though,” he muttered. “So I’d say it was worth it.”

“This was a bid for my attention?” Nesta echoed, dismounting roughly as he continued to lie there in the earth churned by his horse’s hooves. The mud was seeping through his breeches already, and the white sleeves of his fine cambric shirt were, she feared, irreparably stained.

“Well,” Cassian said lightly, as though he hadn’t just been thrown from a stallion. “You started it, sweetheart.”

“Started what?”

He looked up at her again, turning his head in the dirt. “You gave Eris your favour.”

Nesta blinked. “You had your horse make a jump like that, risking your own bloody neck, because I gave the duke of Northumberland my ribbon? Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” he countered evenly. “My heart, perhaps. But my mind is still wonderfully intact.”

“Up,” Nesta said sharply. “Let me look at you.”

He grinned, as though vindicated, but as he made to raise himself, he hissed sharply, sucking in a breath as he pressed a hand to his ribs. His brow furrowed with pain, eyes darkening, and Nesta sighed heavily as she pulled off her gloves, held out her hand, and helped him to his feet.

“Take off your doublet,” she said flatly, looking at the expanse of muddied velvet.

Cassian’s brow quirked. “Well, that’s not how I imagined you asking me to undress but—“

“How else can I check to see if you’ve shattered your ribcage?” she interrupted, but Cassian only grinned again and began loosening his ties. Soon enough his doublet was parted entirely, and as he slipped it from his shoulders, he winced. He let it fall to the floor, and Nesta was about to chide him for dirtying it so, but then she caught sight of his sculpted chest showing through the thin fabric of his cambric shirt. She swallowed, letting her gaze wander across his collarbone, at the tanned skin there that had been masked by his doublet’s high neck.

“And this?” Cassian said lowly, nodding to his undershirt. “Does this need to go too?”

“I… suppose it does,” Nesta said with a sniff, trying to affect nonchalance when all she could focus on was the curve of his shoulder, the muscles lining every inch of him. “How else can I check that no ribs are broken?”

“How else indeed,” Cassian hummed, and wasted no time in pulling the shirt over his head.

And good Lord have mercy, Nesta knew that Cassian was sculpted like Italian marble but nothing could have prepared her for the bare skin of his chest, hardened with muscle. Those months on a ship definitely suited him, and as she looked, she forced herself to focus on his ribs, on the task at hand.

Innocent, she thought as she tentatively traced a finger across his ribcage, where a thin scar marred his skin. It’s all entirely proper, completely innocent. Just a lady checking a friend for injury.

He was warm beneath her, so warm, his skin softer than it had any right to be. He’d spent eight months in the sun and salt air, and he’d come back looking finer than ever. Hers— this man could be hers, and as her fingers splayed across his chest, Cassian reached up with one hand and caged her touch right above his heart.

She felt it beat— sure and steadfast.

“Will I live?” he asked softly. “Or am I doomed?”

Nesta swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from his hazel ones, boring down into her with an intensity that had her feeling slightly stunned. Her lips parted, she tried to speak, but all she could feel was his heart beating beneath her fingers, his smooth skin and the warm heat of him that had her feeling breathless.

“You’ll live,” she said at last.

He nodded, his hair falling idly over his forehead. In the sunlight, the pearl that dangled from his ear winked, the gold setting glimmering.

Nesta blinked, and somehow found the strength to drag her eyes away, dropping her gaze to the floor. Where his shirt lay in a crumpled pile next to his doublet, there was a hint of pale-blue, a small flash of colour against the white. She frowned, tilting her head, unable to understand even as she knew what it was, what it must be.

“Is that— my ribbon?”

Cassian pulled back, a somewhat sheepish smile on his face as he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Perhaps.”

“How did you even get it?” she asked, bending to retrieve it from the pile of his clothes.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let Eris have it.”

Silence settled between them for a moment, broken only by the noise of the forest and the sounds of the horns, distant.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” he asked quietly. “About the betrothal.”

Nesta shrugged. “Because I’m trying to get out of it,” she said easily. “It was foolish of you to think I’d still be here, unwed, when you got back. You know my father—“

“Fuck your father,” he muttered. And then he softened, his eyes turning wide with something akin to pleading. “I’m here now, sweetheart. And I’m not going away again.”

“But you will,” she countered, turning her face away. He always would— he could not be tied to the court as she was, had too restless a spirit to spend his life idling away on an estate somewhere. “And I’ll be left behind, waiting for you, again.”

“You could come with me,” he offered instead, even though the both of them knew it was madness.

Elain had moved to Spain with Lucien— but that was because his place was in the Spanish court, somewhere settled. It was bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship, everyone knew that. No, Cassian could not take her with him, but she adored him a little for even offering in the first place.

“Or you could promise not to stay away so long,” she said instead, her voice quiet. “Come home, Cassian, as often as you are able. Don’t sail so far away from me.”

“Never again,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “How could I ever stray so far, when I love you too much to stand the distance?”

Her breath caught.

I love you.

Oh, the words were said so often at court. She’d had countless dukes and earls call her their dearest love during dances and revels, and she couldn’t even begin to fathom how many had written her poems or bowed deep and told her she held their hearts in her hands. It was part of the game they played at Elizabeth’s court— part of the realpolitik that made up their world.

But it was different when he said it.

So different Nesta might have sworn the earth beneath her shifted, that standing beneath that canopy of trees, all the riches in the world lost their value.

She blinked, and he waited— waited for her to say something, to acknowledge his declaration.

And in the end, Nesta found the strength to dip her head, to smile a little demurely before stepping forward and pressing the softest, the chastest, of kisses to his cheek. Then, she turned back to her horse and mounted, leaving him standing there, looking up at her, one hand pressed to the cheek she had just kissed.

“I suppose, then,” she said, “that you can be forgiven for ignoring my letters.”

And as she began to ride off into the forest, she looked back once— and waited for him to follow.

Taglist: @c-e-d-dreamer @andrigyn @beansidhebumbling @burningsnowleopard @asnowfern @xstarlightsupremex

#nessian #nessian fic #semper eadem #extra long authors note on ao3 as per usual this time featuring:#Elizabeth's actual surviving dress; the real Madge Ratcliffe; and a little bit about the relationship between Elizabeth and Leicester

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