Do Not Chastise The Dove (15) ✧ Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley

These were the best drabbles I have read in my entire life. I think I'm fucking in love! Thank u so much for this preciousness!!

Typos - Drabbles

All requests made by fellow Typhoes are listed down below!

NOTE- THESE ARE NOT HAPPENING THE SAME TIME AS THE MAIN SERIES, ONLY THE ONES MARKED WITH A ‘+’ 

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Typos Masterlist

Continuar lendo

SIX NEW IN THE HEIGHTS POSTERS!! I'M SOOO EXCITED FOR IT!

I'm loving all The Last of Us fics.

Can't wait for the next chapters. Can I be added to your tag list?

Tess really have courage to sleep next to y/n's husband, make heart eyes on him and yet dare to blame y/n for all of it. Y/n really is a better person than me, because I would have slapped her so hard... 😡😡😡

I'm loving all the interactions between Ellie and Y/n. So precious 🥺🥺

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you, darlin’….” MASTERLIST

[Part one] -HAPPY BIRTHDAY- You, Joel and Sarah just want to have a birthday party for your husband, but unfortunately, luck isn’t on your side.

[Part two] - CONTAMINATED ZONE DO NOT ENTER- twenty years later, and you and Joel are working your ass off. Problem is his business partner is problematic

[Part 3] -FLIES ARE BETTER CAUGHT WITH HONEY- you and the group take off to get Ellie to the state building. You learn more about her and you and Ellie actually get really close

[Part 4] -“PASS.”- you find your way thru the hotel and into a museum. Ellie and Joel seem to be warming up to eachother. If not begrudgingly

[Part 5] - NO ONE MOURNS THE WICKED - making your way through the museum, Ellie learns what a clicker is. Tess gets intimately acquainted as well.

TO BE CONTINUED….

—————————————

Tag List: @teacupcollector @toobsessedsstuff @targazyen @zeida @amethystwonders11 @technicallykawaiisoul @faithiegirl01 @buckysmainhxe @impala1967666 @theslytherinwriter @this--is--music @amethystwonders11 @mr-underhills-things @romanoffs-heart @khaylin27 @sage-bun @dorck26 @eclipse-darling @duskwo0d @meriperi-589 @kimm4710 @thesapphirequeen @uselessbutinteresting @rainy-day-lady @mjtalksaboutanything @rosieatron @pofties @tubble-wubble

Soo good! Can't wait for the next chapters 😍😍😍😍

— when he stands up for you

Masterlist.

Ahh this is the first one from these little drabbles I’m posting! I really hope you enjoy these as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them💕

Warnings: none.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

Recruitment days were always a busy time in Dynamight’s agency. Most of the time Bakugou was lucky and could avoid doing the hiring and firing, his HR department more than happy to take care of the payroll. But looking for new sidekicks was important, and these were interviews that Bakugou wanted to deal with personally. He’d already spent the better part of a fortnight shortlisting candidates, Pro-Hero Red Riot had arrived into the agency to help him go through the shortlist. Although you were unsure whether he was more of a help or a hindrance, as the redhead would give you a bored smile whenever he’d escape to refill his coffee mug.

You’d never seen so many interviews scheduled, all appointments for the day postponed in favour of hiring a new sidekick. Smiling softly as you offered each new up and coming Hero a seat as they waited for their turn to impress the number two Dynamight.

You gave him a small smile each time you’d introduce a new interviewee, laying their file and information down in front of him so he could read through their history.

A few hours later you’d finally managed to work your way down the list of candidates to the last name- a young, cocksure hero with a strength quirk. The standout achievements on his resume was that he’d managed to get his hero license before everyone else in his class, saving a coach full of people from falling to their deaths by bending the girders on a bridge. On paper, he sounded pretty impressive. But face to face—

“Oi, how much longer is he gonna be? I got shit to do.” The man shouted from across the room.

You were sympathetic to him, he’d been waiting about fifteen minutes already and usually Bakugou had prompt timekeeping. But a last minute, unexpected call from Uravity had him delayed.

“He’ll be ready to see you soon, thank you for your patience.” You gave him a warm smile from behind your desk as you continued to type out an email to Red Riot’s agency.

“Why don’t you stop checking your Facebook for five minutes and go let him know I’m waiting.” He rolled his eyes.

“Mr Dynamight knows you’re here.” You clenched your jaw to stop yourself from giving a sarcastic retort.

Who the fuck did this guy think he was? You were already hoping that he wouldn’t get the position, already dreading the prospect of having to work alongside this man.

“If he knew I was here I’d be in there already,” He sighed, “So fucking incompetent.”

“Excuse me?” You were used to dealing with all sorts of irate people as Dynamight’s secretary, but you’d never experienced such attitude from a potential recruit.

“Is it too hard for you to understand, sweetheart?” The man scoffed, “Now hurry up and let him know I’m here.”

You were certain this was going to be the day you lost your job, a slew of angry words on the tip of your tongue as you tried to keep your disposition cheery. But you could feel the corners of your lips drooping down into a glare as you stood from your chair.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Your professionalism was slowly morphing into anger as you stood from your chair behind your desk, glaring at the ma n.

“What did you say?” Your head snapped towards the door to Dynamight’s office which was now wide open, your boss stepping out onto the floor as he’d cleverly heard the commotion.

“Dynamight, sir!” The man’s sneer quickly turned into a disingenuous smile as he made his way over to Bakugou in quick strides, reaching his hand out for him to shake, but Bakugou’s gaze remained focused directly into his eyes.

“Is that how you talk to my staff?”

“She wasn’t doing her job—” The young sidekick dropped his hand as he turned to glare at you, “She wouldn’t let you know I was waiting.”

“She,” Bakugou mimicked his tone, “Was doing her job perfectly. With that kind of attitude you’ll never make it as a hero.”

You felt your heart racing as you watched the scene in front of you, swelling with pride that Bakugou was defending you in front of his asshole as you couldn’t help but admire how pretty he looked when he was irate.

“Get out.” Bakugou spoke over the man who was currently talking about his work history, his patience already thin as he walked directly past him and made a beeline for your desk.

You’d never felt so glad that Bakugou was such an excellent judge of character, thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with a man like that inside the agency each day.

“— I recently finished my work study with Fourth Kind.” He continued.

“One call and no one in this city will hire you,” Bakugou snarled.

The young man looked as though he might cry as his lower lip wobbled, frozen in place as Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest.

“I won’t repeat myself again,” He continued, “Get out.”

You felt vindicated as you watched the man leave, the once cocky persona reduced to nothing as the elevator doors dinged to close.

“Hey,” Bakugou rasped, “You good?”

“I’m okay,” You smiled, “Pretty used to assholes like him.”

“That don’t mean it’s right,” He continued, “Fuckin’ prick.”

“I mean, he was your last interview so at least on the plus side you’re done for the day.” You smiled.

“Let me grab us some coffee and you can help me pick someone.” Bakugou smiled back, already walking towards the machine at the end of the hall.

“I don’t think I’m qualified for that—“ You called out to him.

There was no way you could pick his new sidekick, especially if you picked an annoying one. You’d never hear the end of it.

“You saw the list of people.” Bakugou continued, “And you met them all today, same as me.”

“Well yeah, but—”

“So, it’s settled.” He grinned, checking his watch, “Shit, I didn’t even realise how late it was.”

“Yeah, it’s been a pretty long day.”

“Okay, so new plan.” Bakugou smiled, turning towards you as the coffee machine was still heating up, “Dinner at that little ramen place and you help me pick my new sidekick.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to ask Kiri- Red Riot?”

“I trust you.” He gave you a genuine smile.

The words had you melting beneath his gaze, crimson eyes locking with your own as you felt your knees begin to go weak. Trying to push your feelings for your boss to the back of your mind as you prayed the butterflies would stop fluttering against your ribcage.

“Okay, but you’re paying.” You grinned.

“As if I’d ever let you pay, sweetheart.” Bakugou smiled back.

If you’d been paying attention you would’ve noticed the way Bakugou stood a little closer to you that night as you walked side by side to the little hole in the wall ramen bar, he’d blame it on the brisk winter air if you asked, but it was really because he wanted to wrap an arm around you to shield you from the biting chill.

Excuse me, sir, you can't be so FUCKING HANDSOME like that. Please, come to my room so we can solve this situation.

what image did i just perceive bc honey i— 💀💦

Isac is the best character in Cidade Invisível (Invisible City) and none can change my mind

😔

Me after reading this:

BEGGING for lipstick from the prompt list with Steve. I’ve been binging all of your blurbs and then read that prompt and died thinking about it.

you're so sweet, thank you. ♥ honestly i was hoping someone would pick this prompt cause it was my favorite | steve + fake dating ♥

[LIPSTICK; Brushing lipstick off their cheek after the other/someone kisses them. ]

—

You find Steve sitting on a sun lounger beside the pool, watching the water thoughtfully. Probably bored out of his mind, you think, feeling a little guilty.

He doesn't hear you approaching. The sun lounger is big enough for you to sit next to him, though there's only a tiny gap between your bare thigh and his. 

"Sorry," you say, handing him one of the two glasses you brought with you and offering an apologetic smile. 

Steve stares suspiciously at the red liquid, frowning at the small bright yellow umbrella decorating the glass. "For what?" he asks. His tone is soft, his expression even softer when his eyes meet yours.

"For dragging you to the world's most boring party."

"Oh, you should see my parents' parties," he beams, fiddling with the small umbrella absentmindedly. "Those were three times worse than this. And at least I have you here."

He lightly bumps your shoulder with his and you try to keep the smile on your face from looking too silly, too needy. You don't think you succeed. The solution is lowering your head and pretending to be interested in the drink in your hand — which, by the way, you don't even know what it's called, let alone what it's made of.

And Steve looks too pretty in the dim moonlight. 

"And you didn't drag me here, I volunteered," he adds when you don't say anything, taking a careful sip of his own drink. "But what is this? Jesus," he frowns at the glass as if it has offended him deeply.

Then, Steve laughs.

As always, his laugh is contagious. A giggle escapes you in no time. "I have no idea. Some fancy drink May is making for everyone."

Steve braves another sip, then decidedly puts the glass down on the ground next to your legs…your legs, which he's now looking intently at. It's subtle but definitely there, a gaze that lingers a second too long before he's straightening up and clearing his throat, once again the picture of a great, respectful friend. It happened, you tell yourself. And yet, your mind desperately tries to convince you that you're reading too much into this, into him, into this relationship.

You take a big sip of your drink. It's far from being your favorite, but it's also not bad. A little sweet, a little strong. You're not sure whether you're hoping it boosts your courage or completely erases it along with all of your thoughts about the boy beside you. It doesn't seem to be working either way.

Coming to this high school reunion — a pathetic excuse of a party with your classmates from your old school in Indianapolis, more like — was probably not your best decision. Bringing Steve along as your fake boyfriend wasn't your brightest idea either, because even though he'd been pretty convincing all night and made everyone basically fall in love with him, now you can't stop thinking about what it would be like if he really was your boyfriend.

"So," Steve starts, sighing. You look up, hoping to catch a glimpse of a star, a distraction, but the sky is clear tonight. "That guy- Philip."

Steve doesn't look at you. He tries very hard to appear almost distracted, like he's just making small talk. You bite back a smile.

"Phil," you correct him. 

"Phil," Steve repeats, as if the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "He looked really upset when you introduced me as your boyfriend, you know."

There's potential in the way this conversation is going, you think, although you also hate how this is the first thing that comes to your mind.

"He's with May," you inform.

"Why do I feel like there's a story there?"

You set your glass down carefully next to Steve's and take a deep breath. "There is. A very short one: we dated the year before I moved to Hawkins, tried long distance, and then he cheated on me with May and they started dating. The end."

Steve stares at you for a long moment before answering.

"Wow, what an idiot. I was going to say I'm sorry, but you can do so much better than him. Honestly."

You exhale a nervous laugh. "So much better that I had to ask a friend to pretend to be my boyfriend just so I wouldn't feel like such a loser."

"You are not a loser."

The look you give him seems to ask 'really?' Steve stares back at you as if you've just cursed him profusely, although you can see the offended expression is entirely false.

"You are not a loser," he repeats seriously, holding your gaze. 

You can read the request implied in the sentence, and you see little option but to comply with it, smiling.

"Okay, I'm not a loser," you concede, feigning annoyance. You look down at your shoes, certain that this is not the time for self-pity but unable to stop. "I just can't make anyone love me."

"I love you," Steve says easily.

You use all your willpower not to blush, even though you're positive it's not even possible to contain such a thing. It's not the first time Steve has said those words and you know there's nothing romantic about them. And yet every time you hear those three words — which happened only a couple of times during the span of your friendship, (usually caused by emotional hugs on holidays) — you still feel an inexplicable tingling in the back of your neck, a shiver down your spine.

"I love you too," you say, and it's not the first time either. Getting the words out without letting the real extent of the feeling behind them show is still quite hard for you. "But I meant, you know… as more than friends."

Steve looks at you differently, or maybe it's just the faint moonlight tricking your eyes, but for a moment you think he's actually going to say something. 

And then the moment passes and he leans forward, resting his palms on his knees in silence. 

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"Thank you."

Steve turns his face to look at you. 

"What for?"

"For coming here with me. And for keeping up the loyal boyfriend facade even in front of a bunch of gorgeous girls drooling over you."

You chuckle in hopes of sounding more relaxed. All Steve does is smile.

"It wasn't hard, you now," he says, and you don't think you'd be able to wipe the smile from your face if you tried. "It was actually pretty easy. And you're way prettier than all of them."

Your smile grows into a giggle. "Steve-"

"And way funnier and kinder too. And nicer. You're really nice, you know that? And your perfume is-"

You put your hand over his mouth, laughing. "Fine, fine! Stop!" you chide, even though this is the last thing you want him to do.

You can see the smile in his eyes.

And that's it; it's the soft look on his face, his infuriating perfect hair, his sweet words...those are the things you blame when you lean forward and impulsively kiss him on the cheek, leaving a red mark on his skin almost perfectly the shape of your lips.

"Thank you," you say before pulling away, sounding surprisingly firm despite what you've just done.

You can't be imagining it. The expression of confusion on his face, half disbelieving and half dreamy, definitely a little satisfied. It can't be just you imagining it.

Did I cause this?

Your thumb touches the lipstick stain on Steve's cheek and you rub it gently, using your other hand to gently cup his chin. "Shit, I'm sorry, Steve," you whisper. "I got lipstick on your face."

He smiles. You know he's smiling because you're looking at his mouth right now.

And he's looking at yours.

Oh my God.

The pad of your thumb is red because of the lipstick and his cheek is still slightly colored by the traces of it, but now your attention has dissipated like a puff of smoke and you are unable to grasp it again.

Steve grabs your wrist, mumbles your name. With his free hand, he touches your lips with his fingertips and states, "Your lipstick is smudged."

"Is it?" you ask.

"It is," he assures. And kisses you.

Steve's lips are soft and he tastes like May's drink, sweet as he moves against you slowly, perhaps hesitant or perhaps wanting to enjoy every second, you think, wishing it was the last option. His arm curls around your waist and you sigh against his mouth, pulling away just for a brief moment. But his lips chase yours and capture them in another kiss and another and another until there's no option but to pull away for air.

He rests his forehead against yours and smiles between heavy breaths. "I lied," Steve whispers. "Your lipstick wasn't smudged before."