#shortfic

But Lucifer ordered Mammon to stay close to you, and slowly, things changed. He started hanging around without complaining as much even to the point where he helped you with the TSL quiz willingly.

And then strange things began to appear in your room. A shirt that was definitely not yours, a D.D.D. charger you never bought, a small stack of Grimm on your desk and even a deck of cards tucked into a drawer. Sometimes he even let you keep the grimm which shocked you.

As time passed and you grew closer, a random gifts start to appear outside of your door. You thought it was a prank the first time until you opened it. Inside was a real gift. Another time, it was jewelry, and you froze because it looked far too expensive to be random. Sometimes it was just Grimm.

What you didn’t know was that Mammon watched every time. Hiding just out of sight, peeking around corners, heart racing as he waited to see your reaction. He didn’t understand why he cared so much, only that he did. He laughed quietly when you stared at the jewelry in shock. When he won tons of grimm from gambling, his first thought is about what he could bring for you on the way home.

. 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ ♡ 𖥻 your weird heteroerotic friendship with dick grayson. ꗃ dick grayson x fem!reader .ᐟ

──── you'd known dick since you two were just preteens and by the time you were twenty-something, the two of you had become inseparable in so many ways that made people around you very, very uncomfortable. your room was his room. your closet had his shirts and boxers. his dresser had your sleep shorts and panties. you'd see him naked constantly. scars and all. you'd stepped into his bathroom once while he was shaving, towel slung low on his hips. his abs were still slick from the hot shower. on the bathroom shelf, you noticed your pads, some of your favorite painkillers, and even products from the skincare routine you both shared.

you made a noise of disapproval and reached over to fix the way he was holding the razor.

"you're gonna nick yourself, pretty boy."

"then fix it, dove."

so you did. you reached up, cupped his jaw, and carefully guided the blade against his skin, the intimacy of it heavy in the steam-clouded mirror. he kept his eyes on you the entire time, those soft, pretty blues watching you with quiet trust.

"thanks. you always take care of me."

"of course i do," you whispered, brushing your thumb along his cheek. "you're fucking useless without me."

you said it with a teasing smile, like he hadn't been leading teams and saving lives since he was thirteen. he smiled anyway. but your closeness didn't stop at helping him shave. you'd eaten from the same fork, shared water bottles, gum, deodorant—even a toothbrush. you literally farted on him once when he tickled you too hard during a sparring session. you'd seen him throw up more times than you cared to.

and it gets weirder.

one time, during a particularly rough mission, you lost all your clothes. literally everything, including your underwear. so you borrowed his. every last piece. shirt, pants, even his boxers. you walked around the block wearing fabric that had been in direct contact with his dick and sweaty balls, and you didn't even blink. yikes, girl.

and when people asked what you were to each other, you'd both laugh. loud. like the question was fucking ridiculous. you were best friends. duh. but then he'd hand-feed you fries across the table while hanging out with your mutual friends. you'd adjust his waistband before going out and he wouldn't even flinch when your fingers brushed too low. he'd adjust the strap of your bra in public, and people would act like it was some kind of spectacle. for some reason.

one time, after a shower in the batcave locker room, you walked out drying your hair. dick was there too, getting dressed after some random training session. and he looked. really looked. right at your uncovered boobs. then, completely unfazed, he just went back to putting on his pants and belt.

"you know your left titty is bigger than the other, right?"

"it's not like your balls are very symmetrical either."

"touché."

soundtrack: ...what are we? - lizzy mcalpine word count: 1.2k

next chapter | series masterlist | f1 masterlist | main masterlist

@f1

liked by mclaren, marissaleclerc, charlesleclerc and others

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f1: LANDO NORRIS WINS THE AUSTRALIAN GP! 🏆🥂

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user2 OMG, WHAT.A.RACE!!!!1 user4 LET'S GO LANDOOOOOOO mclaren our boys started out strong!!! lando 🧡🧡🧡🧡 lnfour what a start to the season 🧡

@paddockgossip

liked by user5,user38, user111 and others

paddockgosip: First race of the season and there's a lot going on already. 👀

As Lando Norris wins the Australian GP, there's more than just champagne surrounding him, his supposed girlfriend, actress Magui Corceiro is around with the Mclaren team. and... so is Marissa Leclerc, she is back in the paddock after months and the two of them shared one more than familiar hug. 👀

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user96 no fucking way user12: the way his hand is literally fisted in her jacket. THAT is not a friendly hug user29 the world is healing user72 THE FERRARI ROYALTY IS BACK! gosh i missed marissa user26 is he with magui? ↳ user5 no one knows ↳ user66 he is!! they have been seen together a million times ↳ user85 i don't think so ↳ user10 bruh, is he fr? magui is right there... user 65 marissa and lando are long time friends babe user66 they are also exes, its weird... user3: for the ones who don't remember, they're THE couple of F1 ↳ user4: and then just... disappeared? no drama no nothing? ↳ user44: kinda user19: i'm child of a divorce

@marissaleclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari,alexandrasaintmleux, lando and others

marissaleclerc: what a special day <3

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scuderiaferrari: leclercs back on top rebeccadonaldson: omg, you're so hot alexandrasaintmleux: love you user5: gorgeous!!!!! user32: fcking royalty user9: i'm conviced you're charles lucky charm user12: is this profile religious? because HOLY HOLY HOLY my eyes were blessed.

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People assume that everyone watching you constantly is the hard part. It isn't. Coming back is.

The race replay kept looping on the screen behind me, and my phone wouldn't stop buzzing with tags, every notification a small, familiar reminder of what it's like to exist in a paddock. I'd forgotten how loud it all was, or maybe I'd just gotten good at not remembering.

There was no dramatic reason I came back to watch races and be near my brother, but there was one for why I'd stopped, and he’s standing right next to me.

Lando and I were always there for each other, so much that it resulted in almost five years of a relationship. We grew up together, and in many aspects, we were raised close to each other and also learnt how to deal with the fame motorsport brought to our lives. Part of those lessons were that we were too young, and too innocent to think our love could resist the many dramas a public life could exist in. 

The first years were a dream, we were able to enjoy each other and learn the true meaning of love, but with time, the conflicts and drama started. We stopped going out because the cameras wouldn't leave us alone, nor the exaggerated headlines.

It got all out of our control. There was a period where I started getting all sort of comments from the internet for being a 'distraction' in Lando's career and even piggybacking off Charles's fame.

I couldn't live like that. It was not easy to let go, not only of Lando but also of the habit of having my life be the way it was, simple. All the dinners with his family, the late-night talks, the gaming sessions, the karting races, was all gone. And I saw myself losing not only a boyfriend but also my best friend.

When I ended things, I felt a part of me left too, and I forced myself to keep my distance, to find a way to deal with all of it and create a backbone, which meant leaving the F1 world that one day was also my world.

And now here he is. Not like the photos, not a headline, just here, closer than he's been in a long time, and I have absolutely no idea what to do. I'd had a whole year to decide how I'd play this moment. Standing here, I couldn't remember a single one of my plans.

I was standing in the garage with Alexandra and Ferrari’s team, as I watched Lando exit his car and rush to his mechanics and team, still in his helmet; it was a well-deserved win, and he knew it.

Charles got closer, and we hugged him, and I felt so happy and grateful to witness this again. The moment I left Charles's arms after celebrating, Lando grabbed me like no time had passed at all. He fisted my jacket and held me tightly against him, lifting me off the ground.

“Mariss” 

“You did it,” I said to his ears, hugging him back and feeling his body vibrate with euphoria.

“Oh my, I made it.” his voice was rough with emotion as he set me down.

He didn’t let go right away; his hand lingered on my back, and our eyes couldn't leave each other's. I stepped back when I heard Charles clearing his throat.

“Okay, that’s enough,” He said as we separated and he and Lando dapped hands

For minutes, I enjoyed how we touched, as it felt like the past; all went away when I saw Lando talking to his rumored girlfriend, Magui. She was hugging his mother, in a McLaren shirt, with her eyes shining as he talked to her and others around.

That’s the reality check I needed.

──────

The party started the way these things always did: bottles of champagne all over the place, music too loud for actual conversation, a lot of people over the DJ booth, and everyone with their usual group.

Alex came back from the bar with Rebecca by her side; the club was packed. Their drinks were full, and Alex handed me a drink I hadn’t asked for but definitely wanted. “So,” she said, sitting in the booth as Rebecca slid on my other side, “That was a lot for the first comeback”

“Tell me about it,” I said, sipping my drink

“And you and Lando?” Rebecca asked in a suggestive tone

"We are friends."

"Marissa," Alexandra said, my name like she was scolding me. "I've known you for years. I was there almost through the whole relationship. That was not a friend's hug."

"And we’re not the only ones to think that."

"Wonderful." I rolled my eyes

"They're not wrong to wonder, is all I'm saying." Alexandra shrugged, entirely too pleased with herself. "Five years is a long time to just cut any type of contact."

I didn't answer that, just kept quiet, accepting defeat.

I found Lando across the room without meaning to look for him; some habits really don't die, no matter how hard you try to bury them. He was laughing at something, easy and loose the way he always was after a few drinks, Magui's hand resting on his arm as it belonged there. She caught me looking. Didn't smile, exactly, not that I did something friendly with my face.

"She's being very subtle," Rebecca murmured.

"I don’t think it’s on purpose and it’s also not her fault."

I meant it, mostly. It wasn't as if I had any claim to stake. That ship had sailed a long time ago.

──────

We stayed for a few more hours; luckily, good hours were I forgot about Lando and all the drama that hug stirred. The girls and I were catching up, dancing, and talking. We were having a blast, maybe because of the drinks, but also because it was fun to be out with my friends and my brother's friends; it’s been a long time.

The vodka kept going through my body, and I was feeling hot; maybe I was feeling a lot of things, including the courage to dance like no one was watching and declaring my love for my friends. 

“You guys are so hot,” I fumble my words as I see the girls in the bathroom mirror.

"You're drunk," Rebecca said, delighted, like this was the best news she'd gotten all night.

"I'm having a moment." I fixed my lipstick with the precision of someone who was, in fact, one vodka shot past precise. "A very normal, very sober moment."

"Uh-huh." Alex was already recording me on her phone, the traitor. "Say hi."

"Hi," I said to the camera, striking a pose that was more wobble than glamour. "This is me. I am thriving."

"You are, actually," Rebecca said, and for a second she wasn't teasing. "It's really good to have you back, you know."

I wasn't drunk enough to get emotional about it, but I was close. "Don't start."

"I'm just saying—"

"If you make me cry in this bathroom, I’ll leave”

That got us all laughing again. Alex gasped, hearing a song it was too muffled for me to recognize.

"That's my song. That's actually my song; we have to go back out there."

"It is not your song; you say that about every song."

"Every song is my song if I decide it hard enough."

We stumbled back out, arms linked so none of us fell over, and somehow ended up in the middle of the dance floor dancing and laughing too hard for any of us to care.

"Okay, okay, that's enough dancing for one night." Charles appeared out of nowhere, hands already on mine and Alex’s shoulders, steering us away from the dance floor.

"We were in the middle of something," I protested.

"You were in the middle of embarrassing yourself. You’ll thank me later.”

Leaving the club was hitting me with a familiar feeling again, of the days we used to go out way more and have fun days like this. Days when I was present and not working. Or pretending to be busy working.

It felt like coming home. That was the problem. 

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@marissaleclerc's story

✦kirishima chews rly loud. he says it makes the food taste better.

✦bakugo refuses to shop online. if he can go and touch the thing with his own two hands, he's 10000% doing that no matter how inconvenient it is.

✦kirishima's hardening makes his skin rly dry so he's always got hand cream with him. when you first meet him, he buys the really cheap stuff that doesn't work all that well. you notice, and done day you casually recommend your favorite brand. it's a little more expensive, but whoa. it works so much better. plus... it smells like you. and... tbh that's the part he likes best.

✦bakugo paces when he talks on the phone. not idle pacing either. I'm talking hard stomps. it's worse when he's on the phone with his mom. if it's you or kiri on the other end, the pacing softens up a bit, but holy shit it bugs the crap out of you when his stomps rattle through the room for the 10000th time in a row.

✦kirishima feels rly guilty that you do all the cooking in the house. your food is awesome, and he always makes sure to thank you by doing all the dishes after every meal, but... sometimes he just wants to spoil you with good food, you know? he buys all the ingredients (well... most of them. he always manages to forget one or two...) and when you get home he insists you rest in the living room while he cooks. but he still pops his head in every few minutes to ask questions he totally could have googled himself, like, "how do you know when the veggies are done steaming?" and "how much corn startch should I use for the sauce?" and, honestly, half the time, you wind up at the stove with him, conducting a mini cooking lesson so he'll know for next time. and... well. he never remembers most of what you teach him, cause he spends most of that time just... sorta looking at you.

✦bakugo gets weird abt taking medications. not to like, a life-threatening degree or anything, but he won't take pain-killers or sleep aids unless it's really serious. banana tea is his go-to when he can't sleep. you think he's gone nuts the first time you catch him boiling whole ass bananas in the middle of the night, but then he pours you some and god damn. it's the best sleep you've had in ages.

---

The door clicked softly behind him.

You looked up from your spot on the couch, a blanket around your shoulders, book resting on your lap. Pedro shuffled in like a kid who missed bedtime, hair a little messy, hoodie too big, eyes already half-lidded.

"Hi, cariño," you said gently.

He gave you a pout. An actual pout. "Baby..." he mumbled, dropping his bag by the door. "Can you—" he yawned mid-sentence, then blinked up at you like a sleepy puppy, "—can you put me to sleep?"

You blinked, smiling before you could help it. “Like… rock you back and forth? Read you a bedtime story?”

“Yes,” he nodded seriously, padding over and throwing himself into the couch like a man dramatically surrendering to gravity. “All of it. I want the full experience. I’m a baby now. Take care of me.”

You laughed softly as he collapsed into your lap without waiting for permission. His arms wrapped around your waist, face pressed into your stomach like he’d been waiting all day just to do that.

“You’re such a baby,” you teased, fingers instinctively sliding into his curls.

He hummed, already melting under your touch. “Your baby,” he whispered, almost sleepily, lips brushing against your shirt.

"That you are," you said, heart way too full for how long you'd known him. But somehow, this wasn’t new. This version of Pedro—the soft one, the one who clung to affection like a blanket—felt familiar. Like home.

You kept carding your fingers through his hair, slow and rhythmic. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just breathed. Heavy and slow and safe.

“Want me to sing to you?” you whispered after a few minutes.

He nodded against your belly. “Mhm. Something cheesy.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and began humming some old 70s love song your mom used to sing while cleaning the house. Pedro’s grip on your waist tightened, like he was anchoring himself to you.

“You smell like home,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Your chest physically ached. “Pedro…”

“Hm?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Only if you promise not to move. Ever.”

You smiled, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

After a while, when his breathing had evened out and he was just on the edge of sleep, you whispered, “Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s get you into bed.”

Pedro groaned in protest, clinging tighter. “Nooo… the couch is my bed now…”

You laughed under your breath and tugged gently on his arm. “You’re gonna have back pain for a week. Come on. I’ll tuck you in.”

That got his attention.

“You’ll tuck me in?” he looked up at you with the most pitiful, sleep-glazed expression.

“Yes,” you smiled, standing up and reaching for his hands. “Like a little burrito.”

He let you pull him to his feet, slow and clumsy, his arms immediately winding around your waist like he needed to keep contact at all times. You walked him to the bedroom like you were guiding a toddler after a sugar crash — steady, soft steps, occasional yawns, and one moment where he stopped in the hallway just to rest his head on your shoulder.

When you got to the bed, you pulled back the comforter and patted the mattress. “In you go.”

He flopped down dramatically, arms wide like a starfish. “Okay. I’m ready. Tuck me.”

You giggled and kneeled beside him, pulling the blanket up over his body. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, the tiniest, dopiest smile on his lips as you gently tucked the edges around his chest and shoulders, smoothing them down like you were wrapping a gift.

“There,” you whispered. “Perfect.”

He reached up with both arms and made a little grabbing motion. “Now you.”

You crawled into bed beside him and the second you were within reach, he latched on — arms around your waist, face in your neck, a heavy contented sigh escaping his lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, already slipping.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too.”

And just like that, Pedro Pascal — world-renowned actor, internet’s favorite daddy — fell asleep in your arms like a big, clingy baby, breathing in sync with your heartbeat.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader 

Summary: Caught in the middle of a Weasley prank, you’re blamed and sent to detention. Only to discover none other than George Weasley is there as well. What should be a short punishment turns into an adventure to the Forbidden Forest.

Content warnings: Flirting, mild tension, unjust detention, George Weasley being charming

Wc: 1.4k

Authors Note: This is my first published fic, any suggestions or comments lmk :) // Masterlist

Some days, Hogwarts was quiet.

Today was not one of those days, thanks to Fred and George Weasley.

On the way to charms, you take the long route, practicing wand motions taught in the previous lesson. But unknowingly, the hallway you’d chosen had been claimed for the prank of the week. 

Hidden around the corner were the Weasley twins. They hadn’t noticed your footsteps down the hall, and you hadn’t cared to notice the unusual silence, or even the bucket in the middle of the hall. 

From the flick of a wrist by Fred Weasley, an ungodly amount of frogs accompanied by green slime like fluid erupt from the bucket. 

Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough (Cake) || Michael x Gf! Reader ||

⡞⠳⣄⣀⣠⠞⢷ ֹ۪⡞⠳⣄⣀⣠⠞⢷ ֹ۪⡞⠳⣄⣀⣠⠞⢷ ֹ۪⡞⠳⣄⣀⣠⠞⢷ ֹ۪⡞

Michael laid down the picnic blanket on the lush grass, placing his shoes on two corners and yours on the other two while you carefully held the box of cakes in your hands.

You and Michael had decided that cake testing would be much more fun if you had a picnic. Dark chocolate cherry cake, strawberry shortcake, double fudge chocolate cake, and white chocolate raspberry cake. Two were his choice, and two were yours, and all four were yours to share.

You sat down next to him, and he shyly slid his arm around you, pulling you closer. He handed you a fork.

"So... which one do you want to try first?"

You lightly tapped the fork against your chin.

"They all look so scrumptious." Before you could decide, you noticed a few little kids nearby peeking over at the cakes. They tried to be sneaky, whispering to each other while staring at the colorful desserts.

You leaned closer to Michael and quietly giggled. "I think we've got an audience."

He looked over his shoulder and smiled, noticing the children quickly pretend they weren't looking.

One little girl shyly waved. You couldn't help but smile back. Michael looked at the cakes, then at the children, before softly asking, "Should we invite them?"

You nodded without even thinking. "We have plenty."

Michael gave the children a little wave.

"Come on over."

Their eyes lit up as they hurried over, thanking you both over and over again.

You carefully handed everyone a fork while Michael cut each cake into little slices, making sure every child got to try a piece.

The park soon filled with laughter as everyone excitedly argued over which cake was the best.

"The strawberry one is the best!!"

"No, the chocolate!"

"The raspberry!"

You and Michael looked at each other and laughed. "We got a good verdict on todays cakes," you teased. Michael chuckled as he looked down at the nearly empty cake boxes.

"I think we found our judges."

You rested your head on his shoulder as the children happily ate around the blanket.

"They made today even sweeter." He smiled, gently squeezing your hand. "I think so too."

You pressed a kiss to his jaw leaving a kiss mark behind and he shy looked away while scratching the back of his neck.

Summary: After coming back from the blip, Bucky is fine. Totally fine. He just… doesn’t like Steve’s new friend (And if anyone asks, it’s definitely not because he refuses to wonder why)

Word count: 1.5K

Masterlist

It's weird coming back after the blip.

It's not exactly as if Bucky hasn't been professionally trained in slipping in and out of consciousness several times a decade for the past seventy years, yet this time it's different.

At least when he was with Hydra, ten years easily slipped by without Bucky really taking much notice of it apart from changes in the officers commanding him to kill, but now he's barely been gone five years, and everything's changed.