#me with like... sin mal

[storiedhistories]

Thinkin' about adding a couple more M.arvel muses. Might put up a poll or something to see who'd be interested in J.anet V.an D.yne (more comics-based, since the movies robbed her of.....so much), K.itty P.ryde, and possibly S.inthea S.chmidt.

[idon-twannabeperceived]

Escuchar a mi vieja hablar sobre personas lgbt me saca 3 años de vida x cada minuto que tengo que aguantar

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

It’s giving mental illness 😀 #cackling

John’s voice is so fetus 🥹

[nekonaps0]

The mood is gone pt4

✦part1 part2 part3

✦gn!reader

✦characters: Rook, Sebek, Jack, Deuce

✦slightly smut

✦how the boys would react when things are just about to get heated with their beloved… and then bam! someone barges in, killing the mood.

Rook Hunt

Rook is a man of passion.

So when he had you pressed against the studio wall during a quiet evening in Pomefiore, his lips teasingly dancing across your collarbone, his voice humming poetry in your ear, it felt like the start of something sinful and divine.

“Ah… my love, you drive me mad with desire,” he whispered, tracing your lips with his thumb. “Let me worship you properly…”

Your hands tangled in his golden hair, tugging gently. He let out a soft groan, his mouth grazing yours.

“Just say the word…”

SLAM.

“Rook. Are you—OH NOT AGAIN!"

Vil’s voice cut through the moment like a guillotine. He stood in the doorway, horrified, eyes wide as saucers.

“I told you not to use the studio! We sanitize that space!”

Rook blinked, then laughed softly, though his arms remained protectively around you.

“Vil, mon ami, you have ruined a masterpiece in progress.”

You blushed furiously and pushed Rook’s chest.

“Mood’s gone. And I’m really sorry Vil!”

You quickly walked off before Vil could lecture you too.

Rook sighed dramatically and turned to Vil.

“hope I can paint this moment anew tonight, or I’ll hold you responsible for the loss of art.”

That night, Rook found you again, candles, music, and locked doors.

“Now… where were we, ma belle?”

Sebek Zigvolt

You were in Diasomnia’s bedroom, alone with Sebek, surrounded by soft candlelight.

Sebek had been a gentleman all evening, until you kissed him first.

Now? His usually sharp voice had gone husky.

“Human or not, you… captivate me.”

His gloves were off. His hands were warm as they cupped your waist finger trembling and digging into your waist.

His forehead rested against yours, lips barely brushing—

BOOM.

“Sebek. I require your assistance with—”

Malleus stepped in, expression calm until his eyes landed on the compromising scene.

Sebek jumped back so fast he nearly tripped over a chair.

“WAKASAMA—I—I—FORGIVE ME—I DID NOT—”

“Mood’s gone, see you later Mal.” you muttered, smoothing your clothes and walking out.

Sebek stood, frozen in horror and then dropped on his knees.

“...Please erase this from your memory, and please forgive me…”

Later that night, Sebek showed up outside your window, knocking nervously.

“I swear to protect your honor next time... and your privacy.!!”

Jack Howl

You were in the Savannaclaw gym… definitely not training. Jack had you pinned between the wall and his chest, his arms cage you in.

He was breathing heavy from your teasing, lips ghosting over your jaw.

“You’re really… testing my control,” he muttered.

His hands settled on your hips, his mouth descending to your neck—

CRASH.

“Oi, Jack. Did you—huh… Guess you’re getting more cardio than I thought.”

Leona stood in the doorway, smirking like the smug bastard he was.

Jack immediately jerked back, ears folded low.

“LEONA—WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!”

“Forgot my towel. Thanks for the free show.” He waved before just turned around and walked away like nothing happened.

You sighed and stepped aside.

“Mood’s gone Jack.”

Jack looked like he was going to explode from embarrassment.

Later, he came to find you on your dorm balcony, tail twitching nervously, holding your favorite flowers and snacks.

“Im really sorry Y/N! Can we… try again? I do everything for making up for you I swear.”

Deuce Spade

The Ramshackle living room was dim, quiet, and surprisingly cozy, just the two of you curled up together on the couch after hours, some random movie lights the room. Deuce had been fidgeting with his collar all night, his ears pink, but when you whispered something naughty in his ear? It was like flipping a switch.

He suddenly had you pinned softly beneath him, hovering over you, eyes wide and hungry.

“A-Are you sure?”


“I’ve never wanted anything more,” you breathed giving him a soft smile while you cup his cheeks.

His lips just barely grazed yours, noses brushing—

BANG.

“YO DEUCE, Y/N! ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUSLY HAVING MOVIE NIGHT WITHOUT—”


Ace stood in the doorway, wide-eyed. A wicked smirk bloomed across his face.

“WELL DAMN, GET IT, DUDE!”

Deuce turned redder than Riddle on a bad day.

“ACE—WHAT—CAN’T YOU KNOCK!?”

You groaned, tugging your shirt back down.

“Mood’s gone… and Ace… please leave the house and never come back…” you glared at him.

And you left, walking back to your room, cheeks burning.

Deuce collapsed onto the floor with a tortured groan.

“I swear to the Great Seven… I’m gonna lock every door next time. OR LOOK YOU SOMEWHERE!”

Later that night, Deuce showed up with your favorite drink and flowers and nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“Let’s try again. This time… I’m locking the door. And ban Ace I swear.”

..............................................................................................................................

[harunayuuka2060]

Professor Trein: I've never seen your classmates- I mean, your students this behave.

MC: They just value their lives, professor.

Cerberus: Grrr...

MC: Oh. Is there anyone trying to cheat?

Random student: !!! *immediately rips off his cheat sheet*

MC and Professor Trein: ...

Professor Trein: Can I borrow Cerberus for my history class later?

MC: Sure thing, professor. But how about, Lucius?

Cerberus: Grrr...

MC: Aww~ Look at you, Cerberus! You're such a good boy! Be good to Professor Trein and his cat, hm? I'll play with you together with Lucifer after you finish your task. *pets him*

Cerberus: *wags his tail*

The students: *thinking* Curse Crowley...

Barbatos: Great work, MC. Here's your Hell Coffee.

MC: Thanks. *takes a sip* Ah.

MC: So bitter.

Barbatos: *chuckles* It's more bitter than before, isn't it?

MC: *smiles* Yes. *then their face saddens*

Barbatos: Is there something wrong?

MC: I just missed Luke and Simeon.

Barbatos: Hm. Then why not invite them here?

MC: ...

Barbatos: Don't tell me you have forgotten that you possess the power of the Ring of Light?

MC: ...

MC: *facepalm* Yes.

Barbatos: *chuckles* I figured. Now, don't sulk and enjoy your recess.

MC: Thank you, Barb.

MC: Vil... What are you doing here?

Vil: I've heard from your demon butler that you are turning yourself into an angel to gain access to this Celestial Realm.

MC: Yes?

Vil: I must see what you will look like, potato.

MC: ...

MC: Okay. I think it'll be fine if you're the only spectator- Lilia, what are you doing here too?

Lilia: Same reason. *while holding a camera*

MC: ...

MC: Whatever.

Solomon: *chuckles* You're famous even here, huh?

MC: More like infamous, but yeah. Anyway, Sol? Mind lending me a hand?

Solomon: No problem. *uses magic to change them*

Vil and Lilia: *in awe; also Lilia not forgetting to snap pictures*

MC: Okay! I'm ready to get my baby!

Solomon: And your other husbando.

MC: Right. *breathes in*

MC: I am the magician, MC…Ring of Light! Heed my words! Open the way forward and create a path where there was none!

MC: Unlock the Gates of the Celestial Realm!

Vil: Ugh... Everything is bright! I can't see a thing!

Lilia: Good thing I have my sunglasses.

Vil: *frowns*

*The light disappears after a few seconds and MC as well*

Solomon: Yup. I'm sure they are in the Celestial Realm right now.

MC: ...

Simeon: ...

MC: *ended up straddling him*

Simeon and MC: *both blushes in embarrassment*

MC: I am sorry!

Simeon: *chuckles* I thought for a second that I had committed a sin.

MC: Come on now. You're calling me a sin?

Simeon: *chuckles again* No. I mean, I have been thinking of you for a while.

MC: *smiles* Sorry for being gone. I got into some sort of... unexplainable event.

Simeon: Oh?

MC: By the way, is Luke here? I'm here to invite you and him to this new world I'm living in.

Simeon: Is it similar to Devildom?

MC: No. It's a bit similar to the human world, except with magicians.

Simeon: Oh. *smiles* We would love to be there.

MC: Great!

*Back to Twisted Wonderland*

Diavolo: Simeon! Luke! I'm so glad to see you again!

Simeon: *chuckles* We're glad to see you too, Diavolo.

Luke: Yeah!

Lucifer: I'm surprised you easily got permission, MC.

MC: What permission?

Lucifer: ...

Simeon: MC snatched Luke in front of Michael. *laughs*

Luke: *giggles* It was fun when the other angels started to chase us!

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: MC, why you-

MC: It's my parental rights, Lucifer.

Lucifer: ...

Malleus: That is your son, child of man?

MC: Yes! Isn't he adorable?

Luke: *staring at Malleus and wondering if he's a demon*

Malleus: How old is he?

MC: Um. He's ten. Yes. He's ten years old.

Luke: *pouts* MC! I'm over a thousand years old!

Malleus: ...

Malleus: What? You are older than me? *squints his eyes*

MC: Mal, don't. *knows that he's judging his height*

[seijakuu00]

Hey guys I just saw smth very questionable and I want your opinion 🤗

Words cannot describe the face I made when I saw this, what in the actual fuck is that 😭😭.

I still don't understand why do people write this with Toji and Megumi, Toji did NOT die for this 🙏. "Mind your own bussines" how about you seek professional help? This is not normal and if you think people should their own bussines and not let you see that what you read or write is wrong, let me tell you that the only one that needs to think and recapacitate is you.

Sad how grown women write abt this shit, y'all are sick of the head.

Hagan algo mejor en vez de andar escribiendo este tipo de pendejadas y busquen ayuda pls, no wonder why it has so few likes.

BOO! Did i scare you? I'm a bar of soap 🧼 just here to remind you to get ur ah in the 🚿 shower and go outside because the smell through the screen is not very pleasant, over and out 👋

For this one, use translator 'cause I'm writing this in spanish. I'm too lazy to write it in English.

Miren, esta bien escribir fanfics ya que todos tenemos derecho a expresar nuestra creatividad pero otra cosa es como tu vas a utilizar esa creatividad sea para bien o mal. Ahora, que digas que es "dark content" NO justifica el hecho de que hayas escrito incesto y pedofilia, no me vengan con que eso no afecta la realidad porque SI la afecta y existen muchos casos de gente que ya no sabian separar la realidad con la ficción y cometieron delitos. (asesinatos, etc.) Escribir este tipo de cosas y leerlas puede irte dañando la mente poco a poco aún así tu digas que no. "Ay pero hacemos un AU donde no sean familia o que no sea menor" eso no justifica nada porque SIGUE siendo canon que sean familia y que sea un menor de edad, dejen de buscar cualquier cosa que justifique sus gustos asquerosos, "no me importa, es mi problema 😝😝" Si, es tu problema y si terminas sin poder distinguir la realidad con la ficción no es nuestro problema, es el tuyo; al final la que pierde eres tú, ahora imagina tener 29 años y escribir semejante asquerosidad. ¿No te da vergüenza? ¿Saber que eres una mujer hecha y derecha, escribiendo este tipo de cosas? Cualquier persona sana ve eso y quedarian asqueados, no digas que somos gente rara porque la unica rara aquí eres tu y tu amiguita pip.

[bedtimegiraffe]

I had the same thought! They look sooo similar, with vaguely similar backstories.

Which was bad news for the new guy, because I just kept going, "You're not Mal. :( I miss Mal. Mal would never do this to me."

So I'm playing Sins of London on Romance Club. And...

Welcome back, Mal?

[aromanticasterisms]

also arlecchino saying furina was under some kind of curse. what was up with that

[xjulixred45x]

Hi! Not a request, just chatting. I’ve seen that in a lot of your yuu!parent memes, it’s something about Crowley trying to court yuu!parent. Could you possibly expand upon this/give us more info about it? Hope u have a good timezone!

thank you!

Hi! I partly made that meme because of an inside joke I made with my sister while I was initially brainstorming the concept for Yuu!Parent.

At first, Yuu!Parent was primarily inspired by my mom, who's a very loving woman but can also be terrifying when you piss her off (like any mother) while my dad is very goofy. Something funny I came up with with my sister was what would happen if Crowley took an interest in Yuu!Parent, based on the fact that 1. I really dislike Crowley, 2. Yuu came to TWST alone, without anyone else, and 3. Crowley is pathetic (and a home wrecker).

It's basically a crappy crackship idea I came up with to add some comedy; it's not really serious, honestly. Yuu has Odysseus-level loyalty to their partner and definitely won't leave their long-time spouse and the father/mother of their children for fucking CROWLEY. Although there's a chance Yuu could take advantage of Crowley's crush on them to get certain benefits like more money in the account or better living conditions, They'd never do anything with him for the reasons mentioned above.

Furthermore, the first-years are completely against this pairing, quite rightly so, and constantly avoid interactions between Yuu and Crowley if they can (or at least, avoid Crowley's attempts to return the romantic mood). They become the ultimate cockblockers. Especially Grim ("YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN BIRD BRAIN!" to Yuu, probably).

Ace and Deuce get the creeps at even the thought of the principal and Yuu as a couple. THAT'S THEIR FATHER/MOTHER FIGURE, GET AWAY, OLD MAN, THEY'RE TOO YOUNG FOR YOU. Jack is disturbed, Epel is more than willing to fight Crowley to prevent the pairing, the same with Sebek, but for Yuu's honor, etc. In conclusion, the only one who wants to see this pair together is Crowley himself, as it should be.

----------

(ESPAÑOL)

Hola! En parte hice eso en los memes por una broma interna que hice con mi hermana mientras hacia una lluvia de ideas inicial para el concepto de Yuu!Parent.

Al principio, Yuu!Parent estaba principalmente inspirado en mi mamá, que es una mujer muy amorosa pero también puede ser aterradora cuando la haces enojar (como cualquier madre), y justamente algo gracioso que se me había ocurrido junto con mi hermana, es que pasaría si Crowley tomara un interés en Yuu!Parent basado en que 1-Crowley me cae super mal, 2- Yuu llego a TWST solo, sin nadie mas y 3- Crowley es patético (y un gato rompe hogares).

Es básicamente una idea de crackship basura que se me ocurrió para añadir comedia, no es nada serio honestamente. Ya que Yuu tiene una lealtad a su pareja nivel Odiseo y definitivamente no va a dejar a su pareja de años y padre/madre de sus hijos por fucking CROWLEY. Aunque hay una posibilidad de que Yuu aproveche el crush de Crowley en ellos para tener ciertos beneficios como más dinero en la cuenta o mejores condiciones de vida, pero nunca haría nada con él por lo anterior dicho.

Además, los de primer año están completamente en contra de este emparejamiento, con mucha razón, y evitan constantemente las interacciones entre Yuu y Crowley si es que pueden (o mínimo, evitar los intentos de Crowley de volver el ambiente romántico). Se convierten en los últimos grandes cockblockers. Especialmente Grim (“¡TE MERECES ALGO MEJOR QUE EL CEREBRO DE PAJARO!” a Yuu, probablemente).

Ace y Deuce les da escalofríos al siquiera pensar en el director y Yuu como pareja, ESE ES SU PADRE, ALEJATE VIEJO, SON MUY JOVENES PARA TI. Jack esta perturbado, Epel esta mas que dispuesto a pelear a puño limpio con Crowley para evitar el emparejamiento, lo mismo con Sebek, pero por el honor de Yuu, etc. En conclusión, el único que quiere ver este par juntos es el propio Crowley, como debe ser.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[lilie-stuffs]

Textes pour avatars

Un petit billet avec des textes que j'utilise pour mes avatars ... ça me servira de rappel et si jamais ça peut servir à quelqu'un ♥ Je tenterais de maj, si je n'oublie pas xD Un mot : necromancer • sinner • dreamer • nightmares • selene • stardust • moonchild • intemporelle • dystopia • delirium • morsure • illusionniste • bruja • divine • nostalgia • wild • illusions • reborn • persephone • sadness • amnesia • fabuleuse • éternelle • perfection • reckless • chrysalide • chimère • désillusions • apatride • paranoïa • memories • asylum Phrase : it burn beyond the grave • passing light • order out of chaos • it’s all about balance • dont’ trust the universe • never see me cry again • the darkest side • made in hell • in the shadow • running with the wolves • little freak • deadly sins • give in to temptation • dream maker • eternal lust • fractured souls • beautiful trauma • we are all mad here • rise like a phoenix • hold on tight • deep in the abyss • burn it down • embrace your darkness • devil inside me • once upon a time • memento mori • in hell • two face of the same coin • just an illusion • ashes to ashes • a taste of eternity • living on the edge • i see you • beautiful lies • about gods and monsters • six feet under • an eye for an eye • burn like hell • new dawn • shadow in the night • dance with me in the dark désastre des astres • reine du chaos • d’un monstre à l’autre • reine sans couronne • la tête dans les étoiles • danse avec les ombres • danse macabre • mélodies macabres • accords funèbres • les fleurs du mal • le baiser de la mort • les murmures de la nuit • poupée du diable • divine violence • d’aurore en horreur • de sang et d’os • pour une nuit • pour toujours et à jamais Paroles de chansons : si on sombre, ce sera beau - Solann cette jungle me doit des mea-culpa à la pelle - Solann petit corps s’aimera demain - Solann girl’s just wanna have fun - Cindy Lauper i can buy myself flowers - Miley Cyrus i was lightning before the thunder - Imagine Dragons

maj : 26/04/25

[lightfromlights]

programando esto para cuando tenga que presentarme a esta convocatoria porque el tiempo pasa pero yo sigo haciendo un examen desastroso ❤️

im gonna be so real and vulnerable with you guys rn: el examen del sábado está perdido desde antes de lucharlo

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Bienvenido,Pedro

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Latina Actress!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Family Love, Protective Dad Moment, Latinx Culture

Setting: Miami, Summer Weekend BBQ

a/n: this is for all my fellow latinas and pedrito lovers. hope you enjoy! ✨🫶🏼

You and Pedro had been together a little over a year red carpets and set trailers, cuddling in between takes, early-morning café con leches, and late-night script reads sprawled on your living room floor. You were both actors, both stubborn, both deeply in love.

But this weekend was a whole new kind of performance:

Pedro was meeting your entire family.

Not just your parents. You were talking everybody tíos, tías, second cousins who lived two hours away, babies you didn’t even know the names of yet… and most importantly: Abuela Carmen.

You had warned him, gently.

“She watches everything. She’ll know if you’re faking.”

Pedro smiled, confident as always. “I’ll win her over.”

“You think you will. But if she doesn’t like you, no one else will.”

⸻

Saturday – Miami

The backyard was already full by 2 p.m. Speakers were blasting Romeo Santos and Marc Anthony. Someone was on the grill, smoke rising in gentle waves. Kids darted around barefoot while someone’s baby screamed on the porch swing. Your Tía Sonia was already sipping her sangria and talking louder than the music.

Pedro arrived carrying a bottle of tequila and a bouquet of rosas blancas (white roses), looking effortlessly hot in a light button-down shirt (top few buttons undone) and fitted jeans that were clearly working overtime.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek. “You didn’t say it’d be a full block party.”

You laughed. “This is a casual hangout.”

And just like that, your tias spotted him.

A wave of gasps and chisme swept through the women.

Tía Rosa elbowed your mom. “Mira esa sonrisa.”

(“Look at that smile.”)

Tía Mili whispered, “Dios mío… qué guapo… y de atrás también.”

(“My God… he’s so handsome… and from the back too.”)

Tía Gladys nodded, lifting her sunglasses. “No tiene ni un mal ángulo ese hombre.”

(“That man doesn’t have a single bad angle.”)

Pedro waved politely as the group giggled like teenagers.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re causing problems already.”

He whispered, “It’s the jeans, isn’t it?”

You smacked his arm.

⸻

Your mom hugged him tightly. Your little cousins clung to his legs like Velcro.

Your dad? Stiff handshake. Steely eyes. Classic.

Pedro handled it all with charm and patience offering to help bring out chairs, complimenting your aunt’s empanadas, even bouncing the screaming baby for a few minutes (to the horror of your baby-fearing cousin, who whispered, “He’s already dad material”).

Then came the moment you’d been prepping him for.

Abuela Carmen.

She sat like a queen in the shade, rosary in hand, cafecito balanced perfectly on the arm of her chair. Her glasses covered half her face, but her judgment was razor sharp.

You brought Pedro over slowly, like you were approaching a sleeping jaguar.

“Abuela,” you said, “this is Pedro.”

She looked him up and down, lips pursed.

“El actor chileno.”

(“The Chilean actor.”)

Pedro bent slightly, kissed her hand. “Es un honor, señora Carmen.”

(“It’s an honor, Mrs. Carmen.”)

She squinted. “Eres más guapo sin barba.”

(“You’re more handsome without the beard.”)

He laughed softly. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

She cracked a smile tiny, but real.

Then? She patted the seat beside her.

“Ven, siéntate. Vamos a hablar.”

(“Come, sit. Let’s talk.”)

And just like that, he was in.

⸻

Later, while Pedro was helping stack empty soda cans, your dad appeared like a shadow beside him.

“Pedro. Ven conmigo.”

(“Pedro. Come with me.”)

You were mid-bite of pastelón when you froze.

“Oh, no…”

Pedro followed your dad around the side of the house where it was quieter, near the lemon trees.

“She loves hard, my daughter,” your dad started.

Pedro nodded. “I know. I’m lucky for it.”

Your dad looked him dead in the eye.

“You gonna marry her, or just play pretend until it gets hard?”

Pedro swallowed slowly, then answered without hesitation.

“I want to marry her. I think about it every day.”

Silence.

Then your dad gave him a long, thoughtful stare.

“I built this house with my bare hands. I raised her here. Every scratch and bruise she’s had, I was there. So if you’re gonna be in her life… really in it… then you better build something just as solid. You understand?”

Pedro nodded, quietly but firmly.

“Yes, sir.”

Your dad gave a rare smile. “Good.”

Then, just like that, he added:

“Come on. Carmen saved you the last slice of flan.”

⸻

As night fell and the fairy lights flickered on, the music slowed.

A familiar beat came through the speakers: Aventura.

You squealed, pulling Pedro by the hand. “Come on, come on! I know you’ve been practicing.”

You started swaying to the rhythm, your hips moving effortlessly to the bachata beat. Pedro followed, tentative but smooth, the rhythm catching his steps.

Your aunts were gathered nearby, sipping coquito and watching like hawks.

Tía Sonia: “Ay, míralo, sí sabe bailar.”

(“Oh, look at him, he can dance!”)

Tía Rosa: “Y ese trasero… ¡Jesús, María y José!”

(“And that butt… Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”)

Tía Mili: “Y mira cómo la mira… ese hombre está perdido por ella.”

(“And look how he looks at her… that man is smitten with her.”)

Pedro’s hand found your lower back, his other clasping yours. He leaned close, whispering in your ear, “Are they still staring at my ass?”

You grinned. “Tía Rosa gave it a ten outta ten.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “Maybe I should propose right now. I’ve got their vote.”

⸻

Later That Night

As the guests left, bellies full and cheeks sore from laughter, Pedro helped you bring in the folding chairs. Your abuela called out one last thing before going inside:

“¡No lo dejes ir, mi amor!”

(“Don’t let him go, my love!”)

You blushed.

Pedro winked. “You heard the woman.”

You leaned against him in the quiet. “So… how do you feel?”

He smirked. “I think I just got adopted by 42 people.”

You nodded. “Pretty much.”

He kissed your temple. “And I’d do it all again for you.”

(Pedro now FaceTimes Abuela Carmen weekly. Your dad won’t admit it, but he calls Pedro ‘mijo’—‘my son’—when he thinks no one’s listening. Your tias are still gossiping about “that Chilean actor with the smile and the jeans.”)

⸻

It had been six months since Pedro met your family and somehow, they loved him more now than they did back then.

He was fully in.

He played dominoes with your uncles (and lost every time), knew exactly how Abuela Carmen liked her café (extra sweet, just like her mood if Pedro was around), and he even joined the family group chat. (Though he’d muted it after your cousins sent too many dancing frog memes.)

But tonight?

Pedro had a secret.

And a ring box in his pocket.

⸻

It was your dad’s 60th birthday so naturally, the whole neighborhood was there again. Balloons, banners, three different coolers of drinks, and a lechón (whole roast pig) spinning on the grill.

You wore a sundress and your hair half-up, smelling faintly of vanilla and coconut, and Pedro thought you looked like his future.

Which, if all went well… you would be.

He had already talked to your dad (again), who gave a long, gruff speech that ended with:

“If she says no, I’ll be the one proposing to you instead.”

(“Si ella dice que no, yo te voy a proponer a ti.”)

Pedro: “Noted.”

He had your mom, your tias, and even the cousins sworn to secrecy. But most importantly, he had Abuela Carmen’s blessing sealed with a wink and a “hazlo bien, mijo.”

(“Do it right, my boy.”)

Later that evening, the music turned soft. The moon was high, string lights glowing golden.

You were sipping your sangria when the familiar beat of Prince Royce’s “Darte un Beso” started playing.

Pedro appeared, hand out. “May I have this dance, hermosa?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you?”

He just smiled. “Come on. Just trust me.”

He pulled you close, one hand on your waist, the other clasping your fingers. Your bodies swayed effortlessly years of dancing in kitchens and hotel rooms turning into this quiet moment under the stars.

You didn’t notice your family forming a circle around you, silent, phones out, eyes wide.

Then the song faded. Pedro reached into his back pocket.

Dropped to one knee.

Your heart stopped.

The tias gasped.

Abuela Carmen wiped a tear.

Your dad took a shot.

Pedro looked up at you, eyes shining.

“Mi amor… You are the love of my life. Every moment with you has been better than the last. I’ve seen a lot of places, but you are home. So… will you marry me?”

You blinked fast, completely overwhelmed.

Then shouted, “¡Sí! ¡Sí, carajo!”

(“Yes! Yes, damn it!”)

Everyone screamed.

Your mom cried.

Your cousins lit sparklers out of nowhere.

Tía Rosa fanned herself, muttering, “¡Ay Dios mío, esto es mejor que una novela!”

(“My God, this is better than a telenovela!”)

Pedro stood, slid the ring onto your shaking hand, and kissed you breathless.

Then Abuela Carmen’s voice rang out clear and proud:

“¡Vamos! ¡A bailar! Que mi nieta se va a casar!”

(“Let’s go! Time to dance! My granddaughter’s getting married!”)

And just like that, the bachata blasted again, and the party began your family spinning you in circles, Pedro never leaving your side.

The last thing you remember that night was your dad clapping Pedro on the back and whispering,

“Now you’re really stuck with us.”

Pedro grinned.

“Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

⸻

Planning a wedding with Pedro was actually pretty smooth…

Until Abuela Carmen got involved.

You were sitting at your kitchen table, color palettes and flower samples spread everywhere. Pedro was across from you, chewing on a pen cap, deep in thought.

“I don’t know what a blush rose is, but I do know that if I wear a cream suit, your dad’s going to say I look like a waiter.”

You snorted. “Then don’t wear cream.”

He grinned. “Problem solved.”

Just then, your phone pinged. Group chat: “Wedding Committee 👰🏽‍♀️”

Abuela Carmen:

I want to walk down the aisle with Pedro. Holding his arm. Like a co-star.

(Quiero caminar por el pasillo con Pedro. Agarrado de su brazo. Como una actriz famosa.)

Tía Rosa:

Abuela, that’s not how it works!

Abuela Carmen:

I’m 84. I do what I want.

You looked at Pedro. “She wants to walk down the aisle. With you.”

Pedro didn’t even blink. “If she wants to walk me down like it’s the Oscars, she can.”

You stared at him. “You are enabling her.”

He smiled proudly. “I love her.”

⸻

Wedding Week

Your whole family had rented a small hotel nearby. The bridal suite was packed with tías, cousins, and a baby who would not stop screaming.

Abuela Carmen had not slowed down. She insisted on sitting in on every vendor meeting, taste test, and even your dress fitting. At one point, she tried on a tiara and announced,

“Just in case you need a second option for the bride.”

(“Por si acaso necesitan una segunda opción para la novia.”)

Pedro walked in mid-moment and actually applauded her.

⸻

The Night Before the Wedding

Your dad gave Pedro a gift a small, hand-carved wooden box.

Inside: a photo of you as a little girl, and a note that read,

“Take care of my daughter the way you would take care of your own soul.”

Pedro got choked up.

Your dad pretended he didn’t see.

Then they drank whiskey on the porch in silence.

⸻

Wedding Day

The venue was beautiful open air, with hanging lights and orchids everywhere. A mix of Spanish ballads and acoustic love songs played as guests took their seats.

You were in the bridal suite when you got the text:

Pedro:

Don’t freak out. She’s walking me in.

She’s wearing sequins.

I love her.

You peeked out from behind the curtain and saw it:

Pedro walking down the aisle with Abuela Carmen on his arm.

She had a cane in one hand, Pedro in the other, and a smug, glowy expression like she was walking a red carpet. Her silver-sequined shawl glinted in the sun.

The guests lost their minds.

Tía Rosa was fanning herself.

Tía Mili whispered, “She looks like royalty.”

Tía Gladys clutched her heart and said, “That’s HER wedding now.”

Pedro walked her to her seat, kissed her hand, and whispered,

“Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite girl.”

She beamed and whispered back, “Make her happy, or I’ll haunt you.”

(Hazla feliz, o te voy a espantar.)

⸻

The Ceremony

When you walked down the aisle, your eyes locked with Pedro’s and he was already crying.

So were you.

So was literally everyone.

You reached him, and he took your hands, whispering, “You’re real. This is real.”

The vows were personal. He said your love gave him peace. You said his heart was the safest home you’d ever known.

And when the officiant said, “You may kiss your bride,” Pedro scooped you up and kissed you like it was the last scene of a romantic movie.

Cue: more screaming.

Cue: more crying.

Cue: Abuela Carmen yelling,

“¡Así se besa! ¡Eso sí es un hombre!”

(“THAT’S how you kiss! Now that’s a man!”)

⸻

The Reception

You danced to bachata. Your dad gave a speech that made Pedro cry again. Your cousins got tipsy and recreated your first date in charades.

Then, during the bouquet toss, Abuela Carmen snatched it before it even hit the air.

“Qué? Tengo planes.”

(“What? I’ve got plans.”)

⸻

Later That Night

Pedro helped you out of your heels and kissed your shoulder as you sat on the edge of the hotel bed.

“She really tried to outshine me,” you whispered.

He smiled against your skin.

“She did.”

You laughed.

“And I still couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

[sugardollcurse]

Would it be wild of me to ask for a george x reader? Maybe like get back era? Like she gets to sit on the roof while they did their rooftop concert?

*Personally, I'm with George. I don't want to go on the roof.*

I'm mad scared of heights, but I feel like seeing the roof top performance would have been like changing.!*

𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒇𝒕𝒐𝒑

꒰ pairing ꒱ george harrison x fem!reader

꒰ contains ꒱ fear of heights

꒰ summary ꒱ you were scared of heights, and george knew it. still, somehow you ended up on the rooftop while history unfolded in the winter air.

꒰ note ꒱ omg... thank you for this request. truly. i’m already in love with this concept.

If you had a penny for every time you told the Beatles “no”, soft, stubborn, heart hammering, you might’ve bought your way off that bloody rooftop.

It started earlier that morning. You were curled on the battered sofa in the Apple lounge, pretending the cracked leather wasn’t cold through your pants, when George came striding in with his coat slung over his shoulder, cheeks pink from the January wind.

“Come up wi’ us,” he said, voice breezy like he wasn’t asking for the impossible.

You looked up from your paperback. “Where?”

He jerked his chin upwards. “Roof. We’re doin’ it. Now.”

The words hit you like a slap. The roof. The roof.

Your stomach flipped traitorously.

George must’ve seen it on your face, because his smile softened into something more careful. He dropped onto the sofa beside you, smelling like cold air and aftershave, his knee bumping yours.

“You don’t have to,” he said, quieter. “S’pose you could stay down here and mind the biscuits.”

You stared at him. At the way he was trying so hard not to push you.

But the thing was, you wanted to see it. More than anything.

You wanted to see them. To hear the sound pouring out into the open sky, wild and reckless. You didn’t want to miss it, even if your ribs squeezed painfully tight at the thought.

“I’ll come,” you said. Your voice sounded stronger than you felt.

George’s face broke into one of those rare, luminous smiles, the ones he saved for the stage, or for when you caught him humming to himself.

“Good on ya,” he said, and squeezed your hand, quick and clumsy.

━━

The staircase up to the roof was worse than you’d imagined.

Narrow. Drafty. The walls closing in the higher you climbed.

Mal sat behind you, lugging Ringo’s drum kit with muttered curses. John’s laughter echoed ahead like it didn’t cost him anything.

Halfway up, George paused. Turned back.

“You alright?” he asked, tipping his head.

You nodded, too quickly.

He didn’t call you out on it. Just offered you his hand.

You took it.

You always did.

The roof was…

Well, it was a roof.

Flat and grey and cold as sin. Wind whipping your hair into your mouth. Chimneys and skylights like jagged teeth.

You froze just outside the stairwell door, heart hammering in your ears.

The edge wasn’t even far, but Christ, it was far enough.

No rails. No safety. Nothing but air yawning open over Savile Row.

George didn’t let go of your hand.

He didn’t pull you forward either. Just stood steady beside you, your anchor.

“Come sit by me, yeah?” he said gently, like you were a skittish cat.

You managed a nod.

Together, you picked a spot near the stairwell structure, close enough to feel solid but still tucked out of the way. George fetched a crate someone had used to haul cables and set it down for you like a makeshift seat.

“Y’can jump down the stairwell if the wind picks up,” he joked, trying to make you smile. It worked, a little.

You sat, pulling your coat tighter around you. Your hands trembled, just barely.

George knelt beside you, rummaging in his guitar case.

Then, softly, so only you could hear:

“Don’t look over the edge, alright?”

You swallowed thickly. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He smiled, that lopsided, slow thing that always made your knees weak, and pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

“Good.”

The others were already bustling around, Paul tuning his bass, Ringo tugging his coat tighter, John making some stupid comment about falling off and suing EMI.

You barely registered them.

You were too busy feeling everything. The cold, the fear, the height. And under all of it, beating louder: the thrill. This was history being stitched together in real time. This was your boys, your George, playing the roof off the world.

The first notes spilled out sharp and messy, carried off by the wind.

It didn’t matter. It worked.

The city paused. Heads turned on the pavement below.

Faces appeared at windows across the street.

And you forgot to be scared. Because George was glowing. Alive in a way you hadn’t seen in days. Maybe weeks.

Chords flying off his fingers. Hair whipping into his eyes. Grinning like a boy let loose from school.

You pulled your knees to your chest and listened.

By the time they started One After 909, your fear had retreated to some back room of your brain, muffled by the noise and the impossible joy of it.

You clapped along, your gloves thudding awkwardly against each other.

George gave you a look, mock scandalized, and then laughed outright.

You wanted to memorize that laugh. Carve it into the inside of your ribs.

Later, when the police finally turned up, suits flapping, faces pinched, you felt the mood shift.

Paul and Ringo hammed it up, of course, smirking through the verses.

John threw in a bit of “I’d like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves” nonsense.

George just played.

Quiet. Steady. Sure.

Like he knew, somehow, this was the last time it would ever be this. You wondered if it broke his heart a little. Maybe not... but you wondered if he’d even tell you if it did.

When the last song ended, the crowd down below clapped and whistled and scattered.

The city exhaled. And you were still sitting on the crate, hands stiff, heart so full it hurt.

George came over, sliding his guitar back into the case.

“Y’did it,” he said, bumping his knee against yours.

“You did it,” you said, voice wobbling.

He smiled, slow and private.

Then, before you could think, before you could lose your nerve, you reached out and grabbed his coat lapels, yanking him down.

You kissed him.

Right there on the frozen roof of Apple Corps.

His hands fumbled for a second, surprised, but then he kissed you back.

Long. Warm. Certain.

When you pulled away, George was grinning so wide it made his cheeks pink.

“You reckon that’s better than biscuits?” he teased.

You laughed, breathless. “Way better.”

You didn’t remember the climb down.

You only remembered his hand, tight in yours.

The roof wasn’t so scary after all.

━━

Back inside, the stairwell felt almost too warm. The walls sweated with everyone’s breath, the echo of laughter, the murmur of “bloody brilliant” and “I can’t feel my fingers” and “Ringo, you mad bastard, how’d you play like that without gloves?”

You trailed behind the others, your boots thudding quietly on the concrete steps, still half in a dream.

George’s hand never left yours. He held it like it was the only real thing keeping him grounded now, like the sky had lifted him a little too high and he wasn’t quite ready to come down.

You got to the second floor landing and he tugged you gently aside, out of the way of Paul’s bounding strides and John’s dramatic groan about needing tea “or heroin, whichever’s quicker.”

He ducked into one of the smaller offices, some little forgotten corner with a dusty window and old mixing notes scattered on the desk. He didn’t say anything at first, just shut the door behind you, shut out the world.

Then he exhaled like he’d been holding that breath all morning.

You stood in the middle of the room, coat unbuttoned, hair windswept, adrenaline still ticking beneath your skin like it hadn’t got the message yet.

George leaned against the wall, watching you. His lips were pink from the cold and your kiss. His lashes cast little shadows on his cheeks in the dusty light.

“That was…” you started, but the words melted on your tongue.

“I know.” He pushed his hair back from his face, still grinning. “Mad, wasn’t it?”

You nodded.

He stepped forward, slowly. Like he was afraid to break the quiet. “I was watching you, y’know.”

“While you were playing?”

“Mm.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Kept lookin’ over. Thought you might bolt.”

“I almost did.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “At the top of the stairs. I looked out, and… I couldn’t breathe.”

George pressed his palm to your cheek, gentle as a breeze. “But you stayed.”

“I wanted to see you!”

That lit something in him. Not just pride, something softer. Need. Maybe even a little awe.

“Christ,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re brave.”

“I was terrified.”

“Still counts.”

You laughed a little, but it turned into a sigh, and then, before either of you could think, you were in his arms again. He held you so tight you felt the beat of his heart through both your coats. A little fast. A little stunned.

Like he’d just jumped off a roof too.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee

[mikrokosmcs]

-  —Sé  que  te  estoy  pidiendo  a  ti  y  tu  estúpida  y  diminuta  cabeza  de  demonio  demasiado,  pero,  estas  comenzando  a  incordiar  al  resto  —  -con  un  solo  movimiento  de  su  mano,  la  invisible  cadena  que  destellaba  un  humo  verdoso,  hace  aparición  desde  sus  largos  dedos  hasta  apretarse  en  el  cuello  del  otro.  -  —Y  demonios  enfadosos,  se  convierten  en  un  problema  para  mí. 

Ojalá Lucifer te destroce el alma, maldito conchetumare.

[kj-shadow]

Traditional drawing! :D Long time without doing these 🤔 I really liked coloring in high school, but when I switched to digital drawings I stopped doing it XD Weeeeell... not bad at all!

----------------------------- ESP:

Dibujito tradicional! :D Tiempo sin hacer de estos 🤔 me gustaba mucho colorear en secundaria, pero cuando pase a los dibujos en digital deje de hacerlo XD Buenoooo... no esta nada mal

I also have it in digital for possible keychains? ...Maybe

----------------------------- ESP:

Tambien lo tengo en digital para posibles llaveritos? ...Quizas

[flan-tasma]

Waking up with them (Fontaine ver.)

💖~ I really wanted to do a sequel of this and I finally found time to post this, I hope you like it! :D

Warning: Nope now💖, GN!Reader | Google Translate sponsors me (it's a lie) If I made any mistakes in the english translation, I would be happy to read your comments! | Content in spanish and english

Spanish:

Las mañanas frías siempre eran parte de la vida de Neuvillette, una ducha fría para despertarse y empezar el día con una rutina practicada antes de irse a trabajar. Claramente, todo cambió contigo en su vida. Los melusines entendían que el sol los saludaban y empezaron su rutina de la mañana con pasitos cortos y en fila para turnarse al usar el baño, Neuvillette y tú los ayudaron con gusto y poco a poco todas las pequeñas criaturas bonitas vestían sus ropas y se iban no sin antes pedirte un adiós especial. Neuvillette sintió que el frío de la mañana se distanciaba cuando su corazón se calentó al verte dándole tanto cariño a los melusines, sus labios formaron una sonrisa cuando todas salieron de la casa en dirección a sus respectivos trabajos y actividades luego de despedirse de él. Un baño caliente, que se desconocía completamente de sus habituales duchas frías, tu a su lado para compartir la calidez de la mañana rodeada de conversaciones y la música que habías puesto en el fondo que te hacía bailar junto al agua que los rodeaba. Neuvillette se sentía agradecido de las mañanas frías, pero adoraba las veces en que se despertaba y su cuerpo estaba junto a ti, envuelto en mantas calientes.

A Wriothesley le cuesta salir de la cama, independientemente de en dónde duerma. Le gusta dormir, se siente bien para él, y hay puntos extras si se ha dormido junto a ti en su sofá. El lugar es estrecho, por lo que abrazarte lo más cerca posible es necesario y bien recibido cuando te levantas y estás sobre el bello durmiente. Sus ronquidos son bajos, hay ocasiones en las que de verdad ronca muy fuerte y se levanta por su propio sonido, pero ahora él no quiere salir de su ensueño. Sabes que ya está despierto cuando sientes sus brazos apretarte más para que no te muevas, reclamarle no es una opción viable pues fingirá estar dormido, entonces decides entregarte un poco más a tus sueños y te recuerdas sobre su pecho. Él sonríe porque sabe que ha ganado, como el vencedor decide acariciar tu espalda hasta que lo sigas al país de los sueños. Seguramente llegue tarde a su trabajo, pero el precio s pagar no está mal si significa poder dormir contigo más tiempo.

Lyney tiene que levantarse temprano todos los días porque su vida está llena de actividades. Trabaja duro en sus shows y como fatui, tanto que se ha acostumbrado a levantarse junto a los pájaros que cantan entre el cielo nublado. Hace frío afuera, de intenta recordar mientras voltea a ver la ventana y el cielo casi blanco le saluda. Pero aquí está tan cálido, recuerda cuando sus ojos se pasean por tu rostro de manera inconsciente, sin querer alejarse de tus brazos que se aferran a su cuerpo. Debe terminar de planificar el siguiente show, pedirle algunas cosas a Freminet, asistir a las prácticas antes de la puesta en escena, debe de recibir información importante para su misión, y todo lo que está en su lista mental de pendientes lo empieza a regañar por seguir en la cama. Sus brazos ya se han aferrado a ti, su rostro ya se ha escondido entre tu cuello y tu aroma le llena los pulmones mientras te quejas entredormida. Ya nada importa, se dice mientras sus pestañas revolotean con cansancio. Solo cinco minutos más.

A Freminet le gusta aferrarse a tus abrazos, siempre que duermen lo abrazas y él a ti, y así le gusta levantarse en la mañana. Despertar en una cama vacía y fría no es de su gusto, por lo que no te alejas hasta que ambos están despiertos. Freminet puede llegar a hablar entredormido cuando está muy relajado y al inicio siempre se callaba avergonzado, ahora ya no le importa si lo escuchas llamar tu nombre entre sueños. Freminet se levanta alrededor de una hora específica, a veces más tarde y a veces más temprano, pero siempre que despertaban juntos te miraba en silencio, no espera que le digas algo, solo quiere sentirte junto a él. Acaricia tu rostro, pasa sus dedos por tu cabello y te abraza con fuerza mientras respira profundamente mientras se prepara para retomar sus actividades mientras les da un repaso. Cuando suspira profundamente es la señal en que ya está listo para salir de la cama.

English:

Cold mornings were always a part of Neuvillette's life, a cold shower to wake up and start the day with a practiced routine before going to work. Clearly, everything changed with you in his life. The melusines understood that the sun greeted them and they began their morning routine with short steps and in line to take turns using the bathroom, you and Neuvillette helped them with pleasure and little by little all the pretty little creatures put on their clothes and left not before asking you for a special goodbye. Neuvillette felt the cold of the morning go away when his heart warmed at the sight of you giving so much love to the melusines. His lips formed a smile when everyone left the house heading to their respective jobs and activities after saying goodbye to him. A hot bath, completely unlike his usual cold showers, you by his side to share the warmth of the morning surrounded by conversations and the music you had played in the background that made you dance along with the water that surrounded you. Neuvillette was grateful for the cold mornings, but he loved the times when he woke up and his body was next to you, wrapped in warm blankets.

Wriothesley has a hard time getting out of bed, regardless of where he sleeps. He likes to sleep, it feels good for him, and there are extra points if he fell asleep next to you on his couch. The place is tight, so holding you as close as possible is necessary and welcomed when you get up and are on top of the sleeping beauty. His snoring is low, there are times when he actually snores very loudly and is woken up by the sound of it, but now he doesn't want to get out of his daydream. You know that he is already awake when you feel his arms tighten around you so you don't move. Claiming him is not a viable option because he will pretend to be asleep, so you decide to indulge your dreams a little more and remember yourself on his chest. He smiles because he knows he has won, as the victor decides to caress your back until you follow him to dreamland. He's probably late for his work, but the price to pay isn't bad if it means being able to sleep with you longer.

Lyney has to get up early every day because his life is full of activities. He works hard at his shows and as a fatui, so much so that he has gotten used to getting up next to the birds that sing among the cloudy sky. It's cold outside, he tries to remember as he turns to look at the window and the almost white sky greets him. But it's so warm here, he remembers when his eyes wander over your face unconsciously, not wanting to move away from your arms that cling to his body. He must finish planning the next show, ask Freminet for some things, attend practices before the performance, he must receive important information for his mission, and everything that is on his mental to-do list begins to nag him for lie in. His arms have already clung to you, his face has already hidden between your neck and your aroma fills his lungs while you complain in your sleep. Nothing matters anymore, he tells himself as his eyelashes flutter tiredly. Just five more minutes.

Freminet likes to cling to your hugs, whenever you sleep you hug him and he hugs you, and that's how he likes to get up in the morning. Waking up to a cold, empty bed isn't to his taste, so you don't move away until you're both awake. Freminet can talk in his sleep when he is very relaxed and at first he always kept quiet embarrassed, now he no longer cares if you hear him call your name in his sleep. Freminet wakes up around a specific time, sometimes later and sometimes earlier, but whenever you woke up together he looked at you silently, he doesn't wait for you to tell him something, he just wants to feel you next to him. He caresses your face, he runs his fingers through your hair and hugs you tightly as he breathes deeply as he prepares to resume his activities while he gives you a refresher. When he sighs deeply it is the sign that he is ready to get out of bed.