I Want A Romance Like That 🥺 So Cute. Marc Is Such A Big Baby 🤭

YES, SIGNALS. JUST KISS ALREADY!

Okay, now I need a part 2 where they go to the show and confess and kiss 😭😍

honey!! number 11 on the prompt list is so steve coded, don’t ya think??

it so totally is 🥰 11. back hugs

steve h x gn!reader. good ol' pining besties <3

****

"Robin," you sigh. "You're overthinking it."

"Signals, Y/N. People have signals. A hand on your wrist, a secret smile. Signals! Now: was Vickie sending me signals? We have to explore all possibilities. But mostly, the answer is probably no. She just wants to hang."

"She asked you to brunch. People our age do not go to brunch."

"Brunch is classy!"

"Brunch is a breakfast date," you scoff. "Brunch is I want to get a cat with you."

"Well, I think—" Robin groans, glancing over your shoulder. "Oh, God. Heads up. Loverboy, twelve o'clock."

Before you can turn, you're being swept into a warm hug from behind. Steve's cheek presses to yours, his chin tucked in your neck. The tip of his nose is cold from outside as it brushes your jaw. Your heart haywires.

"Steve!" you squeal, his arms around your waist. "What're you doing?"

"You're gonna love me," he says into your ear.

Already do.

"Am I now?"

He walks around to face you.

"Yup," he says, popping the 'p'. "Look at these."

Steve holds up two slips of paper. Tickets to Bruce Springsteen at Soldier Field.

"Holy shit!" you cry, and throw your arms around him. He catches you with a laugh.

"These must've cost a fortune! How did you get them? I thought they were all sold out."

Steve shrugs. "I know people. So, interested?"

He knows it's all you've been talking about (and lamenting over when the tickets sold out in three minutes). Bruce Springsteen is one of your favorites.

"You didn't—Steve," you gasp in awe. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Consider it an early birthday present."

"Then I want you to come with me," you declare.

"Wh—me?"

"Who else would I bring?" you scoff.

"Someone who actually knows Springsteen songs?"

"You know enough of his hits. I mean, if you really don't want to go..."

"No!" He shakes his head. "No, Y/N, obviously I'll go. I just didn't want you to be embarrassed when I'm the only person there who doesn't know Glory Days."

"Well, that's why we're gonna listen to Born in the USA everyday until the concert," you grin. "Get you prepped."

Steve groans. "Can't believe you're giving me homework."

You turn to put the tickets in your bag. Steve crowds you as you do, chin on your shoulder. He's always affectionate with you, loose with his touches and pets.

Robin looks at you, brows to her hairline.

"It's fun homework," you say, ignoring Robin with all your might. "We can listen to the tapes in your car 'cause you've got the fancy sound system."

"That why you're friends with me?" Steve asks, arms curling around your belly. "Just for perks?"

"No comment. But the concert tickets have definitely moved you up to best friend status," you grin.

"Where was I before?" he squawks.

You pat his cheek. Steve pretends to grumble for another moment before slipping away. Instantly, you miss the warmth of his embrace.

"If you're done clinging to Y/N," Robin starts. "The new releases need to be shelved."

Steve throws her an eye roll but goes, giving you one last smile. You return it sheepishly. Robin watches you like a hawk.

You finally relent when Steve's far enough away.

"What is it now, Robs?"

"Signals," is all she says.

"Concert tickets is not a signal, Robin."

"Oh, it's something. Steve's music taste is whatever's on the radio."

"Not true! He listens to Queen and Fleetwood Mac and AC/DC and—"

"Because of you," Robin huffs. "It's you, Y/N, it's all for you. And you're both so deeply in denial you think it's just friendship things."

"He's just..." You watch Steve stack the videos on the shelf.

The enamel pin you got him a few months ago is on his FV vest. It's a bumblebee that says bee mine! You'd thought it was cute and fun and that Steve would like it. He wears it everyday, even if it doesn't match his outfit at all.

You look at Robin, your heart in your throat.

"Signals?" you squeak.

She nods.

"Now you're getting it."

US Helplines:

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Child Abuse: 1-800-422-4453

UK Helplines:

Samaritans (for any problem): 08457909090 e-mail jo@samaritans.org

Childline (for anyone under 18 with any problem): 08001111

Mind infoline (mental health information): 0300 123 3393 e-mail: info@mind.org.uk

Mind legal advice (for people who need mental-health related legal advice): 0300 466 6463 legal@mind.org.uk

b-eat eating disorder support: 0845 634 14 14 (only open Mon-Fri 10.30am-8.30pm and Saturday 1pm-4.30pm) e-mail: help@b-eat.co.uk

b-eat youthline (for under 25’s with eating disorders): 08456347650 (open Mon-Fri 4.30pm - 8.30pm, Saturday 1pm-4.30pm)

Cruse Bereavement Care: 08444779400 e-mail: helpline@cruse.org.uk

Frank (information and advice on drugs): 0800776600

Drinkline: 0800 9178282

Rape Crisis England & Wales: 0808 802 9999 1(open 2 - 2.30pm 7 - 9.30pm) e-mail info@rapecrisis.org.uk

Rape Crisis Scotland: 08088 01 03 02 every day, 6pm to midnight

India Self Harm Hotline: 00 08001006614

India Suicide Helpline: 022-27546669

Kids Help Phone (Canada): 1-800-668-6868

FREE 24/7 suicide hotlines:

Argentina: 54-0223-493-0430

Australia: 13-11-14

Austria: 01-713-3374

Barbados: 429-9999

Belgium: 106

Botswana: 391-1270

Brazil: 21-233-9191

China: 852-2382-0000

(Hong Kong: 2389-2222)

Costa Rica: 606-253-5439

Croatia: 01-4833-888

Cyprus: 357-77-77-72-67

Czech Republic: 222-580-697, 476-701-908

Denmark: 70-201-201

Egypt: 762-1602

Estonia: 6-558-088

Finland: 040-5032199

France: 01-45-39-4000

Germany: 0800-181-0721

Greece: 1018

Guatemala: 502-234-1239

Holland: 0900-0767

Honduras: 504-237-3623

Hungary: 06-80-820-111

Iceland: 44-0-8457-90-90-90

Israel: 09-8892333

Italy: 06-705-4444

Japan: 3-5286-9090

Latvia: 6722-2922, 2772-2292

Malaysia: 03-756-8144

(Singapore: 1-800-221-4444)

Mexico: 525-510-2550

Netherlands: 0900-0767

New Zealand: 4-473-9739

New Guinea: 675-326-0011

Nicaragua: 505-268-6171

Norway: 47-815-33-300

Philippines: 02-896-9191

Poland: 52-70-000

Portugal: 239-72-10-10

Russia: 8-20-222-82-10

Spain: 91-459-00-50

South Africa: 0861-322-322

South Korea: 2-715-8600

Sweden: 031-711-2400

Switzerland: 143

Taiwan: 0800-788-995

Thailand: 02-249-9977

Trinidad and Tobago: 868-645-2800

Ukraine: 0487-327715

(Source)

the concept of how sir arthur conan doyle was as a person always sends me into fits. imagine making the most famous literary character of all time but you hate the character so much you try to kill him off. but everyone is so horny for this asshole detective they make you bring him back. even your own mother gets mad when he’s dead because she likes him. raising your prices to ridiculous rates to avoid writing holmes stories backfired and now you’re rich. it’s absolutely a pain because it’s keeping you from your true passion which is spiritualism despite how one of your good friends harry houdini keeps telling you it’s bullshit. you consider your best novels to be historical ones but they’re well over shadowed by the nemesis of your own creation sherlock fucking holmes. some fake photographs from some kids convinced you faeries were real and you wrote a whole book about it. you started writing stories in medical school. and yes, also you are a doctor. after you’re dead, they erect a statue of sherlock holmes across the street from your birthplace, causing you to probably roll over one hundred eighty degrees in your grave and scream into your casket pillow.

Okay, I just watched a documentary on Netflix about a crime and for some reason decided to go in the true crime community in here.

Various posts are absolutely disgusting! Don't you guys know nothing about limits?! Romanticize crimes, murderers, omg just stop! It's so disrespectful to families and victims!

One thing is to be curious about crimes, reasons why did that person murdered someone, how the brain of these people works, another thing is to make a tattoo of the bite that Bundy did in one of his victims, is to say that someone was "lucky" for being victim of Ramirez.

Please just stop. If you really think that these things are "cool" you really need help.

Dieter is such a cutie, really 🥺😍🥺😍🥺😍

Poor Dieter having to watch lots of horror filmes, but at least he had reader to sleep with him after

For the Love of Horror

(Dieter x horror-loving female reader)

Summary: The reader is totally me; I love horror films and I usually watch them on my own as most of my friends are scaredy cats. There aren’t that many fics where the male character is the one scared of film and Dieter seemed to be the perfect fit.

Warning: no use of y/n, mentions of scary films, Dieter being scared of said scary films, slight euphemisms, saucy suggestions, lots of adorable fluffiness

Dieter Bravo loved you, but you loved horror films, and he was the biggest scaredy cat in the world.

You’d first met the strange but handsome actor as his makeup artist for an indie film. On Sap of Justice, he played a man hunting down his wife’s killer while slowly being turned into a tree. He won a SAG or something for that, he didn’t care, but it required hours in the makeup chair.

You showed up on the first day wearing a bright yellow jumper, an even brighter smile and a Tupperware full of homemade cookies. He was instantly smitten.

His latest rehab stint actually worked this time, but he ended up developing a giant sweet tooth. While the rest of the crew did not appreciate your delightful treats, Dieter ended up consuming more than he should have, usually while he was sitting in his makeup chair, making a bit of a mess.

You then came up with the idea of giving him a piece of chocolate to slowly melt on his tongue so he could sit back and let you do you work. You’d slip in another piece onto his tongue when he ran out, it was probably the most sensual thing he’d ever experience.

He was happy to just sit and listen to you as you babbled on about films, most of which he’d never heard of. You knew a surprising amount, more than most directors he’s worked with.

He couldn’t help but smile at your bubbly enthusiasm and he just wanted to be around you. But that tiny colourful you had a dark interior: your love of horror films.

The first time you invited him over to watch a scary movie, he thought it was a euphemism for his favourite activity and he was excited.

But no.

You put on Hereditary.

He spent the rest of the night alone in his room with the lights on, his eyes never leaving the ceiling.

The following night he had a nightmare where he was stuck in a dollhouse with naked people.

He was so relieved when you wanted to have another movie night. He suggested maybe a romantic film this time round.

So, you put on Candyman.

Dieter couldn’t look at himself in a mirror for at least a week.

The third time he suggested watching a comedy film.

So, you put on An American Werewolf in London.

This time it was less scary as he mainly spent the time looking at you while you enthusiastically explained in detail how Rick Baker achieved the first transformation scene and how horror films lead to your career choice.

That was when he fell in love completely and utterly in love with you.

And he needed to come clean about his horror film phobia.

Thankfully, you didn’t kick him to the curb like the piece of garbage he believed he was. You apologized profusely for taking over film choices with your favourites and it was definitely his turn to choose his favourite.

Dieter shyly suggested Beauty and the Beast to which you sighed and said it was your favourite non-horror film and immediately put it on. You put your head on his shoulder as you watched it.

“So why is this your favourite film Dieter?”

“Well…I like to think that if a beast can fall in love and get a happily ever after, then that gives me hope”

Your reply was a hug and kiss on the cheek,

He could certainly get used to this. It was nice.

Eventually, you both found a compromise with your film watching together. No horror film before dark and not every time you got together. You hunted around to find the least scary horror films when it was your choice. And you suggested he watch Dead Meats Kill Count which helped because Dieter could at least anticipate when the scary parts would happen beforehand. You always made sure to turn the volume down when a jump scare was going to happen.

In the meantime, Dieter worked with his therapist to uncover the reason behind his scaredness of scary films. He suspected it was that donkey scene in Pinocchio was the cause of trauma but there was still work to do.

You saved him from your guilty pleasure films such as Snakes on a Plane and the Final Destination series, so you instead only subjected him to the good ones: the really good, critically acclaimed, award-winning ones. He finally watched The Shining and Get Out which ended up not being as scary as he thought.

Dieter discovered he had missed out on a huge amount of great films. You were both sobbing wrecks at the end of Train to Busan and he absolutely loved Willem Dafoe’s crazy ass monologue in The Lighthouse and immediately had to learn it himself.

You discovered that Dieter had a huge love for animated films and would sing along to every song, every time. Of course he knew all the lyrics to Under the Sea and Be Our Guest which you couldn’t help but smile at, he was just that adorable.

And you were roped into a duet of A Whole New World. Dieter was just a big romantic at heart. It was a side of the actor no one knew or cared about.

Whenever a new horror film came out at the cinema, you were more than happy to go by yourself as you were used to that. He survived watching A Quiet Place with the volume down and praised your bravery and madness for seeing it at the cinema alone.

But when there were times when you really wanted to see a film not in the cinema and Dieter didn’t want to be alone, something to do with his love of cuddles with you or something. This would be when you’d watch it with headphones one and Dieter would be hiding his head in your lap. Most of the time you’d run your fingers through his hair, and he’d fall asleep.

He liked this.

He could get used to this.

Two years later…

“Honey cakes, I’m home!”

You practically skipped across the hallway to give your boyfriend Dieter his well-deserved welcome home hugs and kisses.

This was the best part of his day.

You were now living together in his huge house, and both couldn’t be happier. Dieter was happy to wake up next to you every day and you were happy to finally be able to watch horror films on his huge TV.

“How was the meeting with your agent?”

“Not bad. Got given this script for a TV thing to read through.”

You perked your face in interest. “Oh? Thinking of moving away from films?”

“Well, I’m told this is a pretty good script. Written by some guy named Mike Flanagan…”

You promptly screamed.

Dieter almost flew across the room; he’d never heard you scream before. And he thought he did a pretty good job in the bedroom.

“Mike Flanagan?!!!”

“Is he good?”

“Is he good?!!!”

You proceeded to grab the collar of his shirt and started shaking him in excitement.

“He makes Stephen King good, that’s how good he is!”

You’d never been rough with him before, and he liked it. A lot.

Your tiny body was bouncing around like a jellybean, you were that excited.

“You remember that film Oculus? The one with the mirror?”

“Is that the one with the hook hand guy?”

“No, that was Candyman; the second film we watched together. Oculus has that one big mirror and Karen Gillan.”

He was surprised you remembered your second date.

“Oh yeah, that one”

“And Gerald’s Game was amazing!”

“I still occasionally have nightmares about that tall man”

“Aw, I’m sorry”

You immediately hugged him, and he rubbed your back in appreciation.

“So, you think I should read the script?”

“If you get to work with Mike Flanagan, I’ll marry you!”

“Seriously?”

But you had bounced away at this point. Pouting, Dieter immediately pulled out his phone and called his agent.

“Hey, that TV thing you gave me the script for: I’ll do it, sign me up”

“You’ve already read it? That was quick”

“No, but I have it on good authority from an expert that it’ll be good, so I’ll do it”

“Alright then, but still read the script”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Hey, um…are they needing any makeup artists by the way?”

“Probably. Are you recommending your girlfriend again?”

“Well, she’s the best, and if she got to work on this job, she’d probably have my baby which sounds…nice”

Dieter was lost in this happy fantasy until his agent interrupted him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Gotta go. Bye!”

He quickly hung as because you had returned by then and you had that look: the look that meant he was going to be subject to a new horror themed piece of media.

“Now, I’m thinking you should at least watch one of Flanagan’s series to help with your decision and we should definitely watch Midnight Mass”

“Hang on, I’ve heard of that one. That’s the one everyone on set wouldn’t shut up about”

“Because it’s good!”

“Hasn’t it got vampires in it?”

“Yes. But it also has monologues”

This piqued his interest.

“I like monologues”

“I know you do and there’s lots in this one.”

You got up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“Now, get in your favourite comfy clothes. I want us to fit in a few episodes before it gets dark.”

“Yes ma’am!”

You gave his small butt a playful slap as he walked away.

He was going to have to get out that engagement ring from its hiding spot sooner than he thought.

I love a good Paul Lahote's fic 🤩😍

Safe - Paul Lahote

a/n: finished this in a couple hours last night :D

summary: during a winter storm, paul’s car breaks down on the side of the road, at a time in which rampant vampires are running wild

warnings: mentions of anxiety

word count: 1.3k (exactly omg)

It was a stupid idea to begin with. The roads were slowly becoming fully covered with snow, but you two wanted to stay at the lookout for just a little while longer, enjoying the peaceful view and getting away from civilization for a while.

However, it was now dark out, even though it was only six o’clock, and there was no indication of a road in front of you.

“Paul, why don’t we just pull over for now and wait till the morning,” you offer, your anxiety rising as he swerves due to some ice on the road.

“Babe, you really wanna stay in this truck for twelve fucking hours?” He snaps, though not too harsh, it was coming from a place of security and protectiveness.

“I’d rather that than attempt to drive and fall off the fucking road into a ditch,” you reply. Paul glances over at you and right away, he can sense your worry. He sighs softly and carefully maneuvers his beloved truck down the road.

“I’ll try to be as careful as I can, baby, but I want to get back home so you’re not freezing in here.”

“You do realize that you have a super high body temperature that could keep me warm all night?” You joke. Paul laughs along with you and shrugs his shoulders.

“I know, but I don’t-no, no, no no!” He groans as a clicking noise sounds from the truck, the engine giving out just as he pulls onto the side of the ‘road’, thankfully on the side with the wall of rock, so there was no way to skid off the edge and into the forest.

“Fucking shit,” Paul mutters to himself, trying to turn the car on. But it’s no use. The truck was completely broken down, and there was no way to jump start it.

There was most likely no one else out at the moment, so no passing cars could be of help. The pack was away for the night and wouldn’t return until the morning, deterring some new group of vampires that was terrorizing the town.

“Well, good thing we have some leftovers,” you murmur, trying to lighten the mood. Paul glances over at you and smiles, grabbing your hand.

“I’m sorry. We should’ve left earlier,” Paul says, shaking his head and looking down in his lap.

“I also wanted to stay, so it’s just as much my fault as it is yours,” you tell him, hoping it makes him feel better. “But I’m glad that you’re not gonna be driving anymore tonight because it’s really scaring me.”

Paul’s face falls and guilt settles in his chest. He should’ve listened to his instincts when he first felt your nerves arise.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s…” he tapers off, nervous about telling you his true feelings. However, he’s also cut off by you shivering, the cold temperature outside starting to seep inside.

His protectiveness kicks in and he hops into the backseat, motioning for you to join him. But you are unable to gracefully climb into the back, so you get ready to hop out and just get in through the backseat door, but Paul stops you.

“I don’t want you going out there, even if it’s for a split second,” he begs. You stare at him in disbelief.

“I’m not gonna get frostbitten in two seconds.” The look in Paul’s eyes tells you something else is up, so you sit back in your seat, looking at the space that you have to crawl over.

Finally, you manage to stumble back with Paul, falling into his arms, which wrap around you to make sure you didn’t fall off the seat and onto the floor. Your giggles fill the car and Paul grabs a blanket from the trunk while you get comfortable, picking up the picnic basket and finding something to snack on for now.

Paul throws the blanket around your shoulders for now, you curling into his side, finally relaxing into his body.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” you whisper when you finish your snack. Paul chuckles and kisses your forehead.

“For now. Just wait till it drops to ten degrees later in the night.”

“But at least this gives us more time to talk,” you point out.

“Or make out?” Paul offers. You gaze up at him, finding him smirking down at you. A similar smirk tugs at your lips and your hand trails up to his neck to pull him down to you.

Forty-five minutes go by, and you could already tell the temperature was beginning to drop. But with Paul beside you, it wasn’t a big issue. You end up throwing a second cover over his body, just to lock the heat in so that you could feel it more.

He even slipped his shirt off to allow you to feel his burning skin, which you very much enjoyed.

“Does…does you not wanting me to go out there have to do with that group of vampires?” You ask during a lull in the conversation.

You’ve been stuck for about four hours now, and it was coming to the point where you had no idea what to talk about anymore. So, you decide to bring this up.

“Who told you?” Paul mumbles, upset that the pack secret had gotten out. Sitting up from his chest, you grab his hand.

“Emily. It slipped out and I promised I wouldn’t say anything but-”

“Shh,” he coos, placing a finger on your lips to silence you, “it’s okay. I figured one of the other girls would tell you because the guys tell them everything.”

“Then how come you didn’t say anything to me?”

He pauses and carefully thinks over his words, his mouth falling open and closing as he does.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he finally says. “I know you had a close call with Victoria, and I didn’t want to frighten you with another set of vampires. I knew the pack would be able to drive them up north, so there wasn’t any real worry, but of course vampires are unexpected, so who knows what would’ve happened.”

“And you were scared that they could be around us and smell me when I stepped out of the car?” You could feel your anxiety rising once again, and this time, Paul senses it immediately.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, cradling your face in his hands. “Yeah, I was…but again, I didn’t want to scare you. You’re safe with me, like you always are. I promise.” You nod and curl back into his chest, sighing softly.

“Paul?” Your voice rings out in the still air, after a few minutes of nothing.

“Hm?”

“Hold me tighter?” You softly beg. Paul’s heart aches in his chest at the tone of your voice. But, he obeys your wish and tightens his grip, pulling you as close to his body as possible.

“Do you wanna switch positions? Do you want me to spoon you, or is this okay?” He asks. You hum happily, snuggling your face into his neck, a small grin displayed on your lips.

“No, this is perfect. Thank you.” He kisses your head softly and rests his cheek in the spot afterwards.

“Get some rest, alright, baby? I’ll call Emily in the morning for her and Sam to come help once he’s awake.” You nod against his shoulder and shut your eyes, focusing on the heat surrounding you and the feel of his body next to yours.

It always did the trick to get you to sleep, and within minutes, you were out like a light, but Paul stayed awake, keeping a lookout to make sure no one else was around and that you were safe.

Though you knew you were safe with Paul, no matter what.

—

paul lahote taglist: @volturiwolf

I'm in love with his voice!

this is so beautiful dsfjkfdls

It's so amazing! It was the best thing I read today!

After Ragnarok I’ve seen so many posts about Odin saying to Loki that he was proud of him.

Well, unpopular opinion, I don’t believe it -the only heartbreaking part of that scene is actually Loki’s reaction that says he still loves Odin, after all.

You know what? I’m furious, and these are the reasons (I apologise for my English, but it is not my mother tongue):

Odin has been decieving Loki from the beginning: he used to say both Thor and Loki were born to be Kings, but he knew well Loki was not meant to sit on Asgard’s throne. A child’s mind is complicated, and we all know that what you learn as a child will scar your adulthood, so whatfor to decieve a child?

Loki has been raised believing all Jotnar are monsters just to find out he is a “monster” himself. Odin, dear, you are a fucking half-Jotun, for Ymir’s sake! And, besides, have you ever thought that, maybe, to tell Loki Jotnar were just wrong rather than hey are “beasts” was better?

I refuse to believe Odin, the ALLFATHER, so mighty and powerful, could do nothing to save Loki when he fell from the Bifrost -and I just can’t respect a father who doesn’t even try to save his son.

“Your birthright was to die”… just to say.

Odin had previously claimed that Loki is not his son. Now that Hela is coming to kick their asses he calls him “son” just because he needs Loki to defeat her. Ah: Odin is the one who had shaped Hela to be his executioner.

Please… if you don’t want to call Loki “Laufeyson” call him “Friggason”, but not “Odinson”.

Sofiii, me encantan tus edits. Son las cosas más preciosas de este mundo. ¿Podrías hacer uno de Valentino Alonso, por favor? 🥺

Valentino Alonso 🤍

perdón por tardarme tanto pero me encantó como quedó

do not chastise the dove (4) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: things get much, much worse. 

word count: 4,028

warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, mention of affair, mention of illegitimate child, mention of assassination attempt, mention of demonization of did, pet name (dove), not proofread

Continuar lendo