a-slice-of-cate - Tumblr blog

[a-slice-of-cate]

A Day in the Life of Therapy :

Therapist :

“You know, the kinda sounds a lot like self sabotage...”

Me:

“Sure- when you say it,

but when I say it, it sounds like true love!”

[a-slice-of-cate]

PERSONALITY SPRINKLES

Childhood trauma?

Or...

personality sprinkles?

:D

[a-slice-of-cate]

Shouto just wanted more Sanrio washitape for his arts and crafts class 😩

[a-slice-of-cate]

Not Just On Christmas

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s parents are coming home for the holidays and he’s in need of a fake date. who better than you, his best friend?

word count: 8.2k

warnings: steve’s parents (derogatory), negative comments about his job, fake dating, friends to lovers, christmas themes, fluff, first kiss!

a/n: i had lots of fun with this one and i hope u guys like it!!! merry christmas and happy holidays i hope they treat u all well <33 consider this my gift to you :D

༄

The phone ringing forces Steve out of bed. Floors cool on his feet, the air a chill on his bare chest, he rubs his eyes lazily and picks it up.

“Hello?” He clears his throat to get rid of the sleep in his voice.

“Steve, why do you sound tired, it’s nearly noon!”

It’s no surprise that the first words aren’t asking him how he is. He’s shocked she cared enough to pick up on the tone of his voice at all. “Hi, mom.”

He doesn’t even know where she’s calling from, doesn’t know what business trip they're on. He can’t remember the last time he got a phone call that wasn’t you, or Robin, or Dustin, or anyone else other than his parents.

Steve’s not even excited to be hearing from them, because it’s a reminder that they’re not around, that they haven’t forgotten about him, they just don’t care.

He wishes you were the one that called.

“Listen, sweetie, your dad and I are coming home for Christmas this year, isn’t that great?”

He deflates, “yeah. Super.”

“There’s a business event he wants to take you to. And we’ll find you a date,” there’s the catch. There’s always a catch. “You can make some connections, maybe get out of your job at that video store soon.”

The thing is, he actually likes working at Family Video, but he knows that doesn’t matter. Then there’s the topic of the girlfriend, or lack thereof. His parents are always nagging him about when he’ll settle down, grow roots, or something.

Maybe that’s why he says, “I can get my own date. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh! That’s fantastic! She’ll have dinner with us, won’t she? What’s her name?”

Like an idiot, he says your name. The first one that came to his mind.

You’re his best friend, and it’s easy to let his thoughts drift to you. The problem is, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to you, how he can ask you to fake date him just to satisfy his parents for once.

If he wasn’t still on the phone, Steve would be groaning into a pillow right now.

“Okay, sweetie, your dad has a brunch we have to get to. We’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, mom. See you.”

He hangs up and sighs in relief. That feeling is quick to fade when he remembers that he had just named you his girlfriend in the midst of his phone call. He drops his face into his hands, runs them through his hair, and tries to figure out how the hell to bring up the subject with you.

To go along with that, he has to worry about his parents coming home. Though, can they really call it ‘home’ when they’ve been gone for so long? When they’ll leave again after a few days, a week at most?

Most people would be happy, excited, about their parents being around for the holidays. Steve’s not. He’d rather spend it how he has since the two of you became friends. Breakfast at your house with your family—who have become family for Steve, too—presents opened with scented candles burning and Christmas albums spun on the record player.

You went out of your way to include him, and he’s never felt so welcome in his life as he does when he’s with you.

At least, if you agree, you’ll be with him this year, too.

-

It’s the next day when Steve decides to bring it up. You’re at his house for movie night, which has become a weekly ritual for the two of you. He’s been trying to figure out what exactly to say since he hung up the damn phone. He’s given up and instead hopes it’ll come to him in the moment.

Today, Steve’s quiet, which is unlike him. You know something’s on his mind and you try to avoid asking him about it, trying to let him talk about it on his own time. It’s about halfway through the movie that you change your mind.

He didn’t complain when you showed up with your cheesy Christmas movie choice, he didn’t light-heartedly tease you about your outfit of choice (some festive patterned pajama pants and a sweater that’s so worn there are holes in the neckline), and the most unusual, he didn’t make a single joke or comment as the movie played.

He’s really, really quiet.

You pick up the remote and pause it, “what’s going on with you, Steve?”

He looks at you, catches your eye and sees nothing but genuine concern. Sometimes he hates the way you know him so well. He can never hide anything from you.

“What? Nothing.”

You blink at him, “come on.”

“Fine, okay. Just, don’t say anything until I’m done, please.”

“Okay,” you pretend to zip your mouth shut, ready to listen.

“My mom called yesterday and told me they’re coming home for Christmas, and that there’s this business thing they want me to go to, and that I need a date for it,” he scrubs a hand down his face, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And you know how they’re always on my ass about me being single and stuff so I kind of told her I already had a girlfriend, and maybe I told her that girlfriend is you.”

What?

There’s a lot to process there. Mostly the fact that out of all of the names he could have chosen, he said yours. You wait for him to explain some more, but he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for a reply, so, your mouth is now unzipped.

“So, what exactly does that mean?”

He mutters a curse under his breath. “Um, so, I need you to pretend to be my actual girlfriend while they’re here.”

His use of the word ‘need’ is telling. Steve’s not one to ask for help, not even when he needs it the most but here he is, nervous and a little pink-cheeked, asking for your help.

You let the thought sit in your head for a bit. It’s not hard for you to want to agree. Steve’s your best friend, and you’d do pretty much anything for him. Though, that might also have to do with the fact that you’ve been in love with him for years.

You know more about his relationship with his parents then most do, so if you can make their visit more bearable for him in any way, why wouldn’t you?

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay? Like, you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m happy to help.”

That was a lot easier than Steve thought it’d be. You barely even questioned him before agreeing, and that’s not lost on him.

“Thank you so much, seriously,” he throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezes you to him in a side hug. “It’s only a few days, then we can go back to normal.”

“Easy peasy,” you say, reaching for the remote and hitting play.

Aside from your wanting to help him, to be there for him like you know he would for you, you’re also curious to see what it’s like to be with Steve that way, even if it’s fake. It’s hopeless, the way you love him, like the moon orbiting the earth around and around. Constant.

Sure, those feelings will probably only swell because of the fake relationship, but you’ve been housing them for long enough anyway.

What could go wrong?

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Robin says from the other side of a clothing rack, sifting through the pieces.

She’s the first, and only, person you told about the fake dating thing. Naturally, she decided she’d help you shop for a dress to wear to this business thing and talk about it at the same time.

The mall is decorated, garlands and lights strung, a big Christmas tree lit up in the middle of it all.

“It’s only a couple of days. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m talking about you being in love with him,” she deadpans.

“Robin, not so loud.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You know she’s being honest, and though the thought has been at the back of your mind, a whisper, you’d like to believe that you can handle a fake relationship without ruining things because of your big, big feelings.

“I spend time with him alone a bunch. It’s not that much different, okay?”

“Besides the fact that you’ll be calling him boyfriend and acting like it, too, you mean.”

Actually, you’ve been trying not to think about what exactly pretending to be his girlfriend entails. You don’t know if he’ll hold your hand, if he’ll hold you closer than he has before, if he’ll kiss you. You think it might be better to wait and see, to not let the possibilities eat at you.

“I know it sounds bad, but it’s Steve. Nothing major will happen. We’re friends and I’m helping him out.”

Robin’s in a tricky spot. She knows how you feel about Steve, obviously, and though he doesn’t see it yet himself, she knows that Steve feels the same, too. It’s taken a lot to hold herself back from speeding things along, and as much as she wishes this fake relationship plan might be a good push, things usually aren’t so easy.

She can also tell that there’s a lot you’re thinking but not saying, but instead of pushing it, she returns to looking at the dresses. It’s not long before she gasps, pulling one of the rack to show you.

“This one,” she says.

“I don’t know. That won’t look good on me.”

It’s pretty, though. You’ll give her that.

“Shut up, everything looks good on you. Will you at least try it on?” She wiggles the hanger in her hand, “for me?”

“Fine.”

You take it from her, walking back towards the fitting rooms with a grinning Robin in tow. She waits outside the door while you change into the dress.

Once it’s on, looking in the mirror, you don’t even know what to think. You’re not one to feel all that confident in what you wear, or in how you look, but this dress makes you feel pretty. Maybe you should make Robin pick out all of your clothes.

“Let me see!” Robin calls.

You step out of the changeroom, doing a shy little spin when she asks. She’s smiling proudly, like she knows she chose well (which she did). She can’t help but think of how Steve will react, because she knows he feels something for you, she can see it on his face everytime he talks about you. He’s just a dork and he doesn’t realize it. Not yet, at least.

“What do you think?” You ask.

“If Steve’s not already in love with you…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

If she does, your brain will conjure up way too many ideas of what could possibly happen. If Steve could really feel the same. If maybe he’ll feel those same butterflies in his stomach that you do, if his heart feels bigger when you’re around. In your dreams, he does.

“I’m trying to tell you you look hot!”

-

December twenty-third is the day that Steve’s parents come home as well as the night of the business event. You and Steve have tried to figure out how to act like a couple, quizzing each other on things you already know, setting loose boundaries, but you figure after knowing each other for so long, being so close, it won’t feel much different than now. Besides the extra touching, the possibility of kissing.

You’re already at his house when his parents get home, your makeup and outfit for tonight sitting in Steve’s room. The two of you linger near the front door waiting for their arrival, a nervous and jittery welcoming committee.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway grabs your attention. It’s a clapperboard snapping shut, marking the scene. Action.

“You ready, babe?” He holds out his arm for you to grab, and you do.

“Time to be the best couple ever,” you reply.

Steve grins at you. He has no idea how to thank you for agreeing to do this, how to even explain to you the relief you’re sure to bring. It’s one less thing for his parents to pick and pry at.

The door opens, and you can already feel a change in Steve’s demeanor. He’s standing straighter, stiffer. You squeeze his arm, a reminder that you’re there.

“Steve, sweetie!” His mother barely greets him before moving onto you, “and this is your girlfriend?”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.”

If it were someone else’s mother, you’d be hit with the usual ‘oh please, call me (insert name here).’ However, where the Harringtons are concerned, formality is a must. Besides Steve, of course. From what you know, the apple had fallen very, very far from the tree and you mean that as a compliment.

Even after being friends for so many years, this is the first time you’re actually meeting Steve’s parents. It’s clear that he’s never jumped at the opportunity to have his friends around when they’re home. He’s told you about them, and that’s enough for you.

“Steve! Come help me with the bags, would you?” His dad calls from outside, though he says it as a demand rather than a question.

“Yep, coming,” he replies. He kisses the side of your head before going outside, quick and sure, like he’s done it hundreds of times.

“How was your trip, Mrs. Harrington?” You fill the silence.

“Oh, just lovely, thank you,” she moves to the kitchen, expecting you to follow. “The house looks clean. Do you have something to do with that?”

Despite her trying to sound like she’s joking, you know that she truly doesn’t believe that Steve could be the one keeping the place going. As if he hasn’t been doing just that for ages.

“No, no. It’s really Steve.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprised.

Steve and his father walk in before anything else is said—thank God. You shake hands with Mr. Harrington, saying hello and wearing a tight smile. Steve’s quick to come to your side, an arm over your shoulders like a shield. Your hand moves to hold the one resting on your shoulder.

He’s even more tense when his father’s in the room, you’ve noticed. You hold his hand a bit tighter. You wish you could do something to make him feel better, and you hope that this fake relationship will do that at least a little bit.

Meanwhile Steve’s wondering how your presence could make him feel much better than he usually does with his parents around. You’re a comfort beside him, and when he gets the chance, he kisses your head again, whispering a ‘thank you’ into your hair.

-

The first few hours with Steve’s parents go by dreadfully slow, even with his touch on you most of the time. You’re quickly learning that as a boyfriend—even fake—Steve’s love language is easily physical touch. He has an arm around you, a hand in yours, on your leg, anything.

You’re also learning just how strained his relationship with his parents is. He’d trusted you enough to tell you most of it, but seeing them interact in front of you was different. The backhanded comments, the faces whenever he mentions his job, it makes your heart ache for him.

It’s bad enough that his parents are hardly ever around, but having them act like this when they are? You’re amazed at how good Steve has remained through it all.

When it’s time to get ready for the business party, you’re thankful for the reprieve.

“Think we’re doing a good job?” You ask Steve as he shuts the door to his room.

“They seem to be buying it. Thanks again for doing this.”

“You’ve thanked me like a hundred times, Steve. It’s okay, really.”

You want to tell him that you’re sorry these are the people he has to call family. That he shouldn’t listen to any of the shit they give him about his job or his lack of post-secondary education. That he’s the best boy you’ve ever known.

The problem is, you don’t know how to say all of that without making your feelings for him painfully obvious.

“Just gotta keep it up ‘til Christmas. That’s when they leave.”

“They’re only here for two days?” You knew the trip was going to be short, but forty-eight hours?

“Yeah, something about getting a deal on a cruise. I don’t know.”

He says it so casually, like it’s normal. You guess that for him, it is, but it doesn’t make it any less upsetting.

“Does that mean you’ll come to mine for Christmas day? Like usual?” You ask, hopefully lightening the mood.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome. Think my mom likes you more than me anyway,” you nudge his shoulder with yours, then move to bring your stuff into his bathroom to start getting ready.

He leans on the doorframe, watching you set your makeup out on the counter, “she does not.”

“Steve, you have your own stocking hanging on our fireplace. And it’s bigger than mine.”

He smiles genuinely then, the first one since his parents have arrived.

He leaves you to get ready, shutting the bathroom door for when you change. You can still hear him through the door. The opening and closing of his drawers, a curse when he stubs his toe.

So far, pretending to be with Steve has been easy. You’ve acted the same save for the touches or small pecks he’s decided to keep placing on your head or your cheeks. The story you settled on was simple: you met him picking up a movie at Family Video, he asked if you needed company to watch it, the rest is history, blah blah blah.

Steve knocks on the bathroom door when you’re pretty much ready, you glance at yourself one more time in the mirror before opening it.

He stands with his tie in hand, wearing a button up and dress pants. You assume there’s a suit jacket to go along with it, and you think it might kill you. He’s so pretty, and he looks it all of the time but seeing him dressed up is really something.

“You look good, Steve,” you say. Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Thanks. You look- you too.”

Steve’s stunned. He realizes he’s never seen you in anything formal and it’s making him feel all fluttery in his stomach and he doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s always known you’re gorgeous, in an obvious way like how the sky is blue. Now, though, it’s like he can feel it.

He clears his throat quietly and remembers the reason he knocked in the first place, “you don’t happen to know how to tie a tie, do you?”

You’re thankful for the time you decided to learn how when you were bored one day. You take the fabric from his hands, “it’s your lucky day, Steve.”

“Thank you. Didn’t wanna have to go ask my dad.”

He’s almost shy about wanting your help over something so small, his cheeks a little pink, his head bent. You give him a reassuring smile—or what you hope is one—and place the tie around his neck.

His eyes are on you as your hands fiddle with the fabric, doing it up for him. Your eyebrows are slightly scrunched, and he wants to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb. He’s not used to having that urge.

You finish up successfully after having fumbled a little bit, adjusting the tie so it isn’t crooked.

“There you go,” you pat his chest and he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat, the way it’s quicker than normal.

He has no idea what that’s about.

“Thanks.”

“‘Course.”

He’s still standing close to you, enough that he has to keep his head tilted downwards just a little to be able to look at your face. Your eyes lock onto his, and time seems to slow. You’re so gone for him and you know it, but it almost seems like maybe he’s feeling something too. Just for a moment.

His father calling out that it’s time to go snaps you out of it.

Steve grabs his jacket, shrugging it on then offering you his hand to hold, “let’s do this, girlfriend.”

-

The hall is oozing Christmas when you walk in, Steve’s hand in yours. Ornaments hang down from the ceiling, warm white string lights line the top of the walls, Christmas music hums through the speakers, and an extravagant Christmas tree sits in the middle of the room.

You’ve never been to an event like it, and you have a hard time keeping your nerves at bay.

Pretending in front of Steve’s parents alone was one thing. Now, the stakes are higher. You have to be convincing and though it’s not difficult for you to pretend to be in love with Steve (you don’t have to fake that at all), you worry that you’ll slip up somehow and give yourself away. Both in the sense that the relationship is fake, and that your feelings are anything but.

It’s not long before Steve’s father gets pulled into a conversation, and his mother goes along with him. You’re left standing near the doorway with Steve, biting at the inside of your cheek.

“Relax,” he leans his head close to yours and whispers.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’re fine. You’re fine,” he squeezes your hand, something that’s quickly become a wordless reassurance between you. “We’ve done good so far, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Except for the fact that I love you and that you being a really good fake boyfriend isn’t helping.

“Okay.”

He smiles and leads you further into the room. The smile he gives you is different from the one he gives the people that say hi to him, the people that stop him for a chat. For you, it’s honest. For them, it doesn’t reach his eyes, it doesn’t mean anything.

“About time you tied someone down, Steve,” a man says to him. A coworker of his father’s, just like most men in the room.

“Think she’s the one who got me, but yeah.”

“That’s sweet. Next step is to get you a stable job, huh?”

It seems like all anyone here is concerned about is what people do, who they know. It’s no fun for you and they aren’t even speaking to you directly most of the time.

“Sure. Good to see you,” Steve excuses the both of you from the conversation.

“These people suck,” you say to him, leading him to the bar set up in a corner.

“Tell me about it.”

You order water for the both of you, something to get rid of the dryness in your throat and occupy you for a bit. You drink quietly before Steve speaks up.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why it slips out now, but it does. The thought has been on his mind since he saw you standing there in his bathroom, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

“You don’t have to say that, Steve. Nobody’s listening.”

“I mean it, seriously.”

“Oh,” you look down at your glass, at the condensation running down the side. The corners of your mouth lift, “thank you.”

“I know this isn’t the most fun, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admits. He’s always been sweet to you, but this feels different. You don’t know how or why, but it does.

“I am too.”

Steve’s dad interrupts your moment, pulling Steve off to meet some people. Already, there’s a guard being put up by him, a shield he saves for his father.

For those few minutes, where it was just you and Steve, you realized that he’s probably the best date you’ve ever had. He pays attention to you, he’s comforting without even trying, and he compliments you with so much honesty you could melt.

He’s the best date you’ve ever had and it’s fake. It’s becoming a mantra repeated in your head; it’s not real, it’s not real.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the boy who’s sat next to you now.

“I’ve never seen you before,” he says.

“I’m not usually at these things. I came with my boyfriend,” you tell him, unsettled by his stare.

“And where is this boyfriend now?”

“He’s out there. I just needed some water but he’ll come back soon.”

You’re trying to get him to go away, to take the hint. He won’t.

“Why don’t I keep you company in the meantime?”

You’re about to reply when someone else does it for you, “not necessary. She’s my girl.”

My girl. Steve. He stands behind you, wraps his arms around your waist. It’s like he knew you needed him then, showing up as soon as you felt like you wanted to search for him. He runs his hands over your sides, a possessive touch that has your skin tingling.

“My bad, man. Thought she was lying about the boyfriend,” the guy says.

“She wasn’t. Even if she was, maybe you should learn to tell when someone isn’t interested, yeah?”

The stranger nods and walks off.

You spin in Steve’s hold, facing him. “My hero.”

“You know me,” he shrugs.

What he doesn’t say is that seeing another guy talk to you made his gut churn, bringing something that he didn’t want to admit was jealousy. He also saw the look on your face, the discomfort, and felt his feet carry him over before his mind could think it first.

His hands are still on your waist, even with the stranger gone.

-

It’s not until Steve’s parents are ready that you leave. They’ve taken advantage of the champagne that sat on trays, free for the taking, as well as the opportunity to talk up their son to many, many people. It seems they’re only proud of him when there’s other people around, and even then, the praise doesn’t hold much weight.

He’s trying his best. At least he’s working. He’s got a girlfriend now. No, he doesn’t host backyard parties while we’re gone anymore.

You wish you could speak up, but you know, with this many people around, it’d cause more harm than good. It’s hard to listen to the people that raised Steve talk about him the way they do. You want so badly to shout in their faces how brilliant he is, no thanks to them. How he has the kindest soul and a sort of midas touch that makes everything shine.

At least, you think he does. You promise yourself to love him better than they ever did, even if it’s in secret.

One memory from the night overpowers the rest, luckily. ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played, a slower rendition, and a slow dance ensued. You watched couples split off, and when you looked at Steve, he was already looking at you, a question on his face and a hand outstretched.

You fell into step with him quickly. It wasn’t awkward for a second. One of your hands in his, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist. You swayed together, unknowingly moving closer until you were close enough to rest your head on his chest. And you did.

He rested his head atop of yours and hummed the song softly. You’ll dream about that dance, probably.

Now, you sit in the car with Steve, who’s become the driver. He drops his parents off at his house first, leaving the two of you alone for the drive to yours. He sneaks glances at you at stop signs and red lights, turning back to the road when he thinks he’s been caught.

His mind is full because he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. He sees parts of you that he was blind to before. The shape of your lips, for example. The dip of your spine and the way it feels to hold you. It’s dizzying and warm, confusing and sparkling all at once.

Once he’s pulled up to your house, he offers to walk you to the door. Ever the gentleman. A romantic no matter how much he denies it, you think. He gets misty-eyed when you watch rom-coms, opens doors for you, has bought flowers for nearly all of his dates, as far as you know.

What must it be like to receive flowers from Steve Harrington?

He faces you on your front porch, hands in his pockets, “thank you again for doing this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay. I’m happy to help you, Steve. You’re my best friend.” Who I love more than anyone.

“You’re mine, too, honey.”

It’s not the first time he’s called you that. Turns out, it was his default to use in your fake relationship. It is, however, the first time he’s said it when it’s just the two of you. It sounds sweet coming from his lips, sticky. Just like honey itself.

“What time should I be over for dinner tomorrow?” You ask. It’s the last hurdle of the fake dating.

“How ‘bout I come pick you up after I finish work?”

“Yeah, okay, that’d be great, thanks.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold of December biting your skin.

“Here,” Steve notices, of course he does, and he reaches out with his hands, rubbing them up and down your arms to warm you.

“How’re your hands still warm?” You ask.

“I'm magic.”

You smile at that. He has no idea.

He reaches up with one hand to cup your cool cheek, and you nudge your face into his touch. For the warmth, you tell yourself. That’s it. His thumb runs over your skin, once, twice.

“Did I ever tell you that you have a pretty smile?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it. You don’t, though, and there’s a swarm of butterflies in your gut because of it.

“Shut up,” you try to mask your bashfulness.

Then, just like that, his face is close to yours. So close that it looks like he might kiss you. His eyes flick from your mouth up to yours, like he’s unsure of what’s happening while he’s doing it.

You can feel his breath tickling your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. Before that can happen, he’s swerving away quickly, planting a kiss on your cheek instead. The one he isn’t holding. His mouth lingers for a second.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your skin.

“Night,” you say, dazed. And he’s walking away.

Steve’s not at all sure what’s come over him. He wanted to kiss you just then, to tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you stupid. What the fuck was happening to him?

When you let your eyes flutter shut, your mouth parted slightly, like you’d let him kiss you, like you wanted it, too, he panicked. Couldn't do it.

No, he doesn’t know what just happened, why it did, or why he’s resisting the urge to go back and knock on your door and actually kiss you when you open it. What he does know is that his heart seems to be doing something funny when you’re around, and that your fake relationship has been better than any of his real ones.

He knows he needs to talk to Robin about this.

-

Steve had to work the next morning—Christmas Eve—which he was actually thankful for. Thankful to get away from his parents, though the comments about his job followed him out the door this morning. Especially thankful because he needs to talk to Robin and sort out the mess of his feelings that has occurred in the last twenty four hours.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to kiss you. About how his stomach was all twisty when you slow danced with him. There are so many moments playing over in his memory. Not just from yesterday, either.

He remembers the way his stomach would sink when you’d tell him about a date you had or how he’d often reach out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, or to wipe something away from the corner of your mouth.

So many things over your friendship that he never thought about are coming back to him and he’s realized he doesn’t act that way with any of his other friends. Only you.

He also realizes that he hasn’t really been pretending with you at all.

“I think I love her,” Steve blurts out while he and Robin are organizing returns, the store luckily empty.

Robin reaches into her pocket, barely fazed, and tosses a handful of confetti at Steve. Some pieces stick to his hair, some to his clothes, most of it at his feet.

“What the hell?” He shakes the flecks out of his hair, “we have to clean that now.”

“I’ve been carrying around confetti for like a year waiting for this to happen!”

“Wait, what?”

“Steve, you’ve been loving her for a long time, hate to break it to you.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He’s no longer preoccupied with the confetti.

“I was letting you do it on your own time. You’re welcome.”

Steve had only just deduced that he’s in love with you and yet, when he thinks about you, he feels the same way he has for years. He finds it hard to believe that he’s been blind to it for that long, but he has been called an idiot enough in his lifetime for it to make sense.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re not done fake dating yet, that there’s still dinner today to get through and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep himself together.

“What am I gonna do, Robin?”

“You’re gonna tell her how you feel and I will finally know peace.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I freak her out?”

“Steve, she looks at you like sun shines from your pores,” she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

-

He picks you up after work as promised, his hands holding the wheel a little tighter, his greeting a little louder than normal. You figure he’s just nervous about dinner.

Nobody brings up the almost kiss, and you don’t plan to. Maybe you read things wrong. Maybe he was aiming for your cheek all along. Maybe he’s been thinking about it as much as you have.

It seems that your feelings for Steve are present now more than ever. Impossible to ignore. It might have something to do with the Christmas spirit floating around, the lightness of the holidays. It definitely has something to do with you being Steve’s fake girlfriend.

Because it turns out, he’s an excellent boyfriend, real or not.

He opens doors for you, even if he has to jog ahead of you to do it. He’s always got at least one hand on you, warm and sure. He looks at you with so much care, his brown eyes stuck on you.

It’s all adding up and you feel like your love for him is overflowing, pouring out of you before you can reel it in. You just hope he doesn’t notice that you’re not acting, that you never were.

Walking into Steve’s kitchen, you pause in the doorway, him behind you, “this smells great, Mrs. Harrington.”

Though Steve knows she probably bought most of the stuff and then put it in pots and pans to make it look like she cooked, he agrees, “so great, mom.”

She turns to look at you both from her spot by the stove, “thank you. Oh!” She cuts herself off with a gasp, her gaze drifting above your heads.

Oh no.

“Mistletoe,” she says, pointing.

“Look at that,” you laugh, short and awkward.

“Steve, sweetie, kiss your girlfriend for tradition's sake, won’t you.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“A real one, son,” his father pipes up from his seat at the table.

Steve finds your gaze, his eyes wide and questioning. Are you okay with this? He’s asking without saying it. You nod, barely there, but you nod and he sees it.

He cups your cheek in his hand, flashes of last night on your porch come to you. He leans in slowly, like he’s waiting for you to stop him. Instead of doing that, you hold his wrist in your hand, squeeze it. Your silent communication.

In a blink, his lips are on yours. Pillowy and almost shy, but he’s kissing you and you feel like you’re floating, your feet off the ground and everything. He pulls away before you can even register the fact that it happened.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your lips still burning with the memory of his.

Steve can't believe he hasn’t kissed you before. You’re soft and you fit together so well, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. He’s kicking himself for not doing it last night, when you were alone, when it was real. Next time he kisses you, he thinks, it will be real.

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you, “so, let’s eat.”

Just like that, he’s moving to the table, pulling out a chair for you and kissing the top of your head once you’ve sat down. Already, the extra affection he’s been giving you has been dizzying. Now, it’s dialed way up.

He helps his mom serve the food before he sits down, though all he gets as a thank you is a pat on the cheek. Next to you, you can see Steve’s leg bouncing up and down. You reach out and place a hand above his knee, stilling him and drawing his gaze to yours.

You smile, and you hope it’s enough to say it’s okay, it’s all gonna be fine. He rests his hand on top of yours, fingers laced together.

“So, Steve, have you been looking for jobs?” His father speaks up. The never-ending topic.

“No, dad. I have a job,” Steve doesn’t look up from his plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with his fork.

“Well, a real job, I mean.”

At Steve’s silence, his mom adds, “we just think, especially now that you have a girlfriend to support, you should look for something… better.”

You look up when she says it, eyes wide and hand tensing on Steve’s leg. You don’t understand how they care so much about what he does and so little about how he feels. He likes his job, you know that, and he’s tried to tell them multiple times over the past couple of days.

And still.

It’s impossible for you to sit by and listen to them talk to him the way they do, like he isn’t good enough. Like the only defining thing is his job, which isn’t even a bad one. What defines him is who he is as a person and he’s the best one in your life.

“Why does it matter so much?” You ask.

His parents look at you, surprised to be questioned, it seems. Steve looks at you, too, with something more like astonishment, appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, “it’s just, you haven’t seen your son in how long? And all you guys keep bringing up is his job, which he’s told you he actually enjoys. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

Steve’s world is tinting pink, heart-shaped lenses over his eyes hearing you defend him. Nobody’s ever tried to go against his parents for him, and here you are. Fuck, he loves you.

They’re quiet, and you’re not finished. “Steve is the greatest person I’ve ever met, and that’s no thanks to you. I’ve known him for a long time and not once have I seen you guys around. How can you judge him so much when you don’t even take the time to know him anymore?”

The room is dead quiet. Nothing but the clinking of forks against plates for the rest of the meal. You feel lighter, after saying what you did. Though you’re also terrified that you’ve overstepped, that Steve will be upset with you for causing a scene.

As if sensing your worry, he holds your hand just a bit tighter.

It’s not until after dinner, hidden away in his room, that you talk about what happened. Not the kiss; your outburst.

He shuts his door and you’re already apologizing, “listen, Steve. I'm so sorry if I made things worse, but I couldn’t just let them shit on your job anymore. I couldn’t. You’re my best friend, you know that, and-”

His arms are around you in a blink.

“Thank you,” he breathes into your hair. “Nobody’s ever done anything like that for me. Thank you, honey.”

“Oh,” you blink away your surprise and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Anytime.”

“You’re really special.”

Your smile spreads, spilling before you can do anything about it. You hide your face in his neck and stay that way until he lets go, a flush in his cheeks and stars in his eyes.

Steve wanted to tell you he loves you right then, but the words seem stuck in his throat. They won’t come up. He wants to be with you for real, and though it happened in a rush, it also didn’t. His brain just needed to catch up to his heart.

He doesn’t say it, but he will. As soon as he can.

“Wanna go watch a movie?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay.”

Movie night. You and him. That’s real.

-

Steve’s parents seem to have gone out somewhere, the car missing from the driveway. They haven’t left, though. You and Steve checked for the suitcases (they’re sitting, already packed, in their room).

Playing the movie, yet another Christmas pick that Steve couldn’t say no to, you share a blanket. There’s plenty of room on the couch, you’re the only people there, and yet, Steve still tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you to lean against his side.

Maybe he’s just doing it in case his parents come home while you’re downstairs. That’s gotta be it.

“Is it bad that I’m sort of relieved they aren’t here right now?” Steve says to you, quiet.

“Not at all. You deserve better than what they give you, Steve.”

“You think so?”

“Are you kidding? I know so.”

He lets his head lean atop of yours, and that’s that.

You want to bring up the kiss, but then again, why would you? It’s not real. It’s not real no matter how much you wish it was, no matter how much it feels that way. You knew going into this that you might end up kissing Steve, you just didn��t know it’d fuck you up so much.

Part of you hopes that mistletoe will appear above your heads yet again, just to be able to feel the way you did when he kissed you. Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, warm all over.

Though Steve’s head feels relaxed, resting on yours, it’s overflowing with thoughts. You, his parents, the way you defended him, how it felt to kiss you, how much he wants to do it again. You. The entire length of the movie, he’s trying to think of a way to tell you he loves you. The best he comes up with is to wing it.

When the screen fades, and the film ends, you remember the gift you’d left in Steve’s room, buried at the bottom of your overnight bag (you decided to sleep over, something you’ve done too many times to count, and head to your place in the morning with Steve). You sit up, only to face him.

“I have something for you. C’mon,” you tug on his hand, leading him all the way to his own bedroom.

“What?”

“Just,” you make him sit down on his bed when you’re in the room, digging through your bag and finding the present you’d wrapped last night. “Here.”

He takes it from your hand slowly, like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He doesn’t open it right away, staring at the red and green patterned wrapping paper and the gold stick-on bow sitting in the middle of it.

“Open it,” you urge, shuffling nervously on your feet.

He shoots you a shy smile before tearing at the paper, revealing a scrapbook of sorts. Flipping through the pages, he finds memories upon memories. Pictures of you and him, of him and Robin, all three of you. Some with the kids or with Eddie. Most of them he doesn’t even remember taking.

And it’s more than just pictures. There’s movie tickets and receipts from random fast food dinners, confetti from a surprise party for Dustin and a piece of a plate Steve broke once.

It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever given him. It reminds him that he does have a family, no blood relation needed.

“Honey,” he says it quietly, his eyes watering ever so slightly. “This is- I don’t even know what to say.”

“I know it’s not much, but I thought you’d like it.”

“No. I love it. It’s perfect, seriously,” he runs his finger over a picture of the two of you, your faces squished together and your smiles absolutely ridiculous. “Best gift ever.”

He means it.

“I had some help with the pictures. Everyone in that book loves you, Steve.”

Everyone in that book. That means you love him, too. He knows that you could mean it platonically, but something about the way you look at him when you say it makes him think that he has to tell you. He has to try.

He’s suddenly very glad he bought you a locket for Christmas, and that he left it unwrapped because of his lack of skills in that department.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Steve-”

“Please,” he trades spots with you, sitting you on the edge of his bed, “close your eyes for a minute, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you shut them tight, placing a hand over them as well, “double closed.”

He rushes to grab the locket from the bottom of one of his drawers, then grabs the tiniest bit of paper and manages to write as small as he can on it, placing the message in the necklace and closing it with a small click.

Steve reaches for the hand that isn’t covering your eyes, opening it up and placing the delicate piece of jewelry in it. “Okay, open.”

You do, glancing down to what rests in your palm. It’s gorgeous, dainty, and the corners of your mouth lift at the sight of it.

“It’s beautiful, Steve. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s a locket,” he says. His head is bent, shy and visibly nervous. “Open it, too.”

Your heartbeat picks up, like you know, subconsciously, that something big is hiding inside despite the small size of the necklace itself. You wedge your fingernail into the gap, pushing the locket open. The note inside makes your stomach drop.

In his messy, rushed writing, the words ‘I love you.’

You look at him, mouth agape and hopes way up. “Steve?”

“I mean it.”

“How-”

“I mean I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really, really long time. I guess it took you being my fake girlfriend for me to realize it.”

“You’re not pranking me, are you?”

You’ve spent so long loving him, and convincing yourself that he could never love you the same, that it feels unreal. Hazy, like a dream.

He sits beside you, cupping your face in his hands softly to make you look at him, “I’m not pranking you. I love you.”

“Holy shit. I love you, too. For so long. I never thought I had a chance with you.”

“I think you’re the only person who’s had a real chance with me since I met you, honey.”

Right there, discarded wrapping paper on the floor, the glow of Christmas lights shining through the window, you doubt you’ll ever take that locket off once it’s on.

You can’t stop yourself from rushing forward and kissing him. A small press of your mouth against his at first, then, it’s more. It’s slow and every single thing you’ve ever wanted. His lips move with yours like they’re the only ones that know you.

This time, when you kiss, there’s no question. It’s real and it’s thawing every single worry you ever had about this. This is real, you get to think now.

Steve pulls away only when your breathing gets heavier, only when he absolutely has to. His thumb trails over your cheek, a lover’s touch. He takes the necklace from your hand, puts it on for you and kisses you again when he’s done.

“Do you think this was a Christmas miracle?” You say, teasing.

“I think this was just me being too stupid to notice how I feel about you. I know now, though.”

“Because you needed a fake girlfriend.”

“Because I needed a fake girlfriend,” he confirms. “But, I’d like a real one now.”

“I think I can manage that,” you nod, a lovesick smile on your face.

For once, Steve’s glad his parents came home. He never would have asked you to fake date him if they hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have realized his very real feelings for you, either. So, maybe it is a Christmas miracle, after all.

༄

hey you! if you enjoyed please consider leaving a reblog, it would mean a lot and helps a ton more than you’d think! help support creators like me <3

[a-slice-of-cate]

REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

[a-slice-of-cate]

the thoughts of bakugou listening to your voice !!

fluff, comfort, fem!reader, prohero au, timeskip au + sfw!!

as much as bakugou hates noises that disturbs him, your voice was an exception. there's something in your voice that he feels at peace whenever he hears it. be it be your cackling sound, squeals, laugh, your little melody at night, and your whispers of sweet nothings to him, he really doesn't mind it.

There is something that keeps him grounded at all times despite the temptations of getting mad and making  a scene. It's like you're his own messenger to stop him from doing that. Telling him that anger sometimes is not an answer to every situation. Even in his lowest time where everyone is against him, all because he couldn't save the other from a villain attack, your voice calms his nerves down. Reminding him that everyone is not perfect, and such humans can still make a mistake even if you try to make it right or in an uncontrollable situation.

With the help of your voice, there is one certain thing that he wants to hear in his very ears. As he bends one knee and opens up a small red velvet box, revealing a dazzling diamond right in front of you. With him asking you to be his one and only wedded wife.

"Will you marry me?" He proposes.

With you standing in front of him, sniffling as you wipe the tears on the corner of your eyes, you gave him a smile.

"Yes."

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !!

© 2022 loving-august. All Rights Reserved. Do not repost. Do not plagiarize. Do not share on other platforms. Will get slapped if u do.

[a-slice-of-cate]

Songs the MHA Boys would dance with you to in the kitchen at 3 am

(This is just my opinion)

Hanta Sero- Sway by Micheal Bublé

Eijirou Kirishima- Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You by Morten Harket

Tenya Iida- As It Was by Harry Styles

Izuku Midoriya- Do You Believe in Magic? by The Lovin’ Spoonful

Denki Kaminari- Domino by Jessie J

(he would so learn the TikTok dance with you)

Katsuki Bakugou- Dynamite by BTS

Shoto Todoroki- Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles

Hitoshi Shinsou- Out Of My League by Fitz and the Tantrums

Hawks- Everybody (Backstreets Back) by The Backstreet Boys

Aizawa- Feeling Good by Micheal Bublé

Present Mic- Jackie Chan by Post Malone

Dabi- Such A Whore by Jvla

Tomura Shigaraki- My Ordinary Life by The Living Tombstone

Twice- Say My Name by Destiny’s Child

Mr. Compress- On The Floor by Perfume Genius 

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu- Can’t Stop The Feeling by Justin Timberlake

Neito Monoma- SexyBack by Justin Timberlake

Yo Shindo- Dear Maria, Count Me in by All Time Low

Mirio Togota- Happy by Pharrell Williams

Tamaki Amajiki- Vivir Mi Vida by Mark Anthony

[a-slice-of-cate]

Logan and Harley Prompts

{from my up coming book}

“What the actual fuck?”

Harley jumped at the sound of her boss’s voice. Logan leaned against the doorway with his fingers pressed against his temple.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and I come back to this?” He gestured to the mess of glitter all over the table and floor and Harley frantically trying to clean it up before Logan saw— which she wasn’t quick enough.

“I got bored?” Harley tucked her hands behind her back and hung her head. “I’ll- I’ll get to cleaning, sir,”

Logan rolled his eyes and left to grab the cleaning supplies. Once he returned he watched as Harley tried to use her hands to scoop up glitter from the floor and put it back into it’s small container. Logan chuckled and shook his head.

“Let me help you,” he bent down and grabbed the small hands of Harley, getting glitter all over his hands. “How did this even happen?” He chuckled again and made sure Harley was looking at him.

“It’s ‘Appreciation Day’ at work, I-I was just trying to make you a card, but um… you know me. Clumsy ass.” She scolded herself and hung her head. “I dropped the glitter and-and yeah.”

Logan’s heart swelled at the level of effort Harley put into Appreciation Day. A warm glow coated his cheeks and he tilted Harley’s face up to look at him.

“Thank you,” he saw the guilt in Harley’s eyes and sighed. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll clean it up and then we’ll make dinner, yeah?”

She nodded her head as Logan planted a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay, let’s get to it then.”

[a-slice-of-cate]

Death Do Us Part {4}

part 1 part 2 part 3

Hero screamed bloody murder as the needle pushed deeper and deeper into their arm. The liquid from the needle felt hot as it flowed through their body- dark blue and black veins appeared from the injection site.

“It’s almost over,” Supervillain ran his calloused hand over Hero’s sweating forehead and injected more of the painful liquid. “Shh…”

Tears ran down Hero’s face, blood dripped from their nose and cuts battered their once soft, young skin. “I can’t,” they breathed. Hero saw black spots dot the corners of their vision. “Please, Sir,”

Supervillain sighed and only pushed the needle in deeper. Hero’s vision clouded over and they were taken over by darkness.

When Hero woke up, they were still surrounded by darkness. Laughter erupted around them almost like it was in their head.

“You’re awake,” Supervillain said over the God Speaker, “Your goal is to survive. You will find that our newest session will help you with that.”

With that, the God Speaker cut out and a low growl was sound from behind them. Hero slowly turned around with a look of dread and fear. A tall black figure loomed over them. A dark force fell over Hero and they felt their body move on its own, fighting off the demon.

Whatever Supervillain had pumped Hero with burned like a son of a bitch through their veins. Hero hissed anytime they used their newfound powers but they kept pushing in order to survive.

For what felt like hours, Hero fought and killed every monster that came their way. By the time they were done, they stood there, chest heaving, hair disheveled, and their skin stained red. The blood of their enemies drenched their figure.

“I’ve done what you asked!” they screamed into the air. “Now let me out, you sick son of a bitch!”

Villain sat there, starting to get a chill from the cold night. As Hero told them the stories of their childhood, Villain couldn’t help but find a sense of familiarity.

The events that Hero described were a lot like the ones they went through growing up as well. However, since they both grew up on the same part of town, it’s very possible that everyone around the woods were treated that way.

“I did that for so long,” Hero explained. “I let him do that to me for years! Years of torture, of injections, of false power pumped into me,” Hero frowned and fumbled with their fingers. “I’m sorry,” they said. “I don’t mean to dump all of this on you.”

Villain watched Hero closely. They’ve known Hero most of their life and not once have they seen this vulnerability show. Hero always seemed like this head strong, superhero that never faltered or failed. Villain didn’t know what to say or physically respond with so they settled with a small nod. 

“Life is pretty shitty, ain’t it?” 

Hero sniffed and wiped their nose, a human instinct that they had forgotten they don’t need to use anymore.

“I guess so,” they held their hands in their laps before taking a deep breath. “Why do you hate me?” Hero’s voice was suddenly more solemn and distant.

Villain blinked and gently scooted closer to Hero. “Hate you? I never hated you, Hero.” They said looking out over the city. “Never.”

Hero closed their eyes before speaking again. “But you do. You shut me out, you snap at me, hell here I am— a poltergeist or some shit.”

The h/c {gender} sighed and hung their head. “I envied you,” Villain began. “All my life, I’ve always felt like you were better than me, so I vowed to out do you.”

Hero felt their non beating heart tighten.

“I wanted to be you,” Villain groaned. “I wanted the glory and the praise, I wanted the money and to feel like I’ve done good for the world.” Villain rambled on. “But then I realized that’s not where fate was taking me. I wasn’t meant to be the Hero for this story. We are opposites, Hero,” Villain cleared their throat. “But when we get you back to normal, I wanna be your equal. I want to fight you as if it’s us messing around.”

Hero looked at Villain and they felt beat rise in their cheeks.

“Okay,” Hero breathed out. “Just so you know,” they looked down at their lap. “I never hated you either. In fact I envied you.”

Both Hero and Villain burst out laughing. Hero explained how corrupt and deceitful the Hero Society was.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me,” Hero ran a hand through their hair. They noticed the slight yawn that Villain tried to hide. “Hey, go get some sleep. I’ll be okay.”

Villain stood up but instead of walking the other way, they held their hand down to Hero. “I know you don’t sleep anymore, but could you…” Villain couldn’t find the words.

Hero chuckled before taking their hand and standing up. “Sure,”

Villain turned their fade away so Hero wouldn’t see the blush that grew across their cheeks.

The rest of the night, Villain had their head rested on Hero’s chest, arms wrapped around their torso, holding them close.

Hero let their fingers run through Villain’s hair, lightly running them up and down the back of their neck before returning them back to their hair. Hero repeated this motion until Villain eventually fell asleep.

Hero smiled at the sight. As Villain slept, they looked so mundane. With a simple T-shirt and sweatpants and their features soft, not hard with the burdens of the world.

Hero let their fingers glide over Villains cheek, ghosting over their features with cold fingers.

It made sense why Hero’s spirt was attached to Villain, which made them a poltergeist. One: they died by the hands of Villain. Two: Hero knew now deeply Villain really cared for them. After what happened on the roof, Hero could sense the gentle feelings Villain felt for them.

“I forgive you,” Hero placed a cold kiss to Villains forehead before resting their head back on the pillows and pretending to sleep, maybe giving the effect as if they were actually sleeping.

***

Hero tumbled down the alleyway. After several blows to the abdomen and face, Hero felt their energy and adrenaline begin to fade.

It was a struggle getting up. Their arms were shaky and their breathing had gone rigid.

“Villain! Stop!” They yelled but Villains fist collided with Hero’s chin once again.

Fire burned behind their eyes. They were under Supervillains ruling and this is what Supervillain wanted.

“If you want me ti stop, you’re going to have to kill me!” Villain went to throw another punch but Hero used all their strength to block the blow.

It would’ve saved them if this were a regular fight.

However, Hero’s vision turned white as a searing pain bloomed in their side.

Hero couldn’t even cry out in pain because Villian’s lips entrapped theirs to hush them.

Soft whimpers left Hero’s lips as Villain kissed their pain away. Villain and slowly pulled the blade out, slowly.

“Shh,” Villain rested their forehead against Hero’s. “It’s going to be okay, Love. It’s going to be okay.” They pet down Hero’s hair as a single tear fell from their eye.

Hero gave one more soft whimper before their shaking body stilled and their chest settled with one last breath.

[a-slice-of-cate]

Preach 🙌🙌

Writing is not about 'telling an epic story' or 'making something that will outlive you'. Writing is about going "You know what would be fucking awesome?" and then committing word crimes

[a-slice-of-cate]

Death Do Us Part {3}

part 1 part 2

A/N: Should I make this into an actual book? Like with real names and stuff? I’m having a little too much fun with this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WARNINGS: abuse, drugs, childhood trauma, PTSD, swearing (very little)

Word count: 

It turns out that Hero, if fact, could still eat food. It was a weird concept but they weren’t complaining. Hero didn’t realize how hungry they were until they took of bite of the snacks Villain had bought them.

“I wanna try something,” Villain piped into the room with no warning, causing Hero to drop the sweet treat with a yelp.

“And what would of the utmost importance that you had to interrupt my peace?” Hero grumbled and finished their cookie. “Come on, let’s hear it!”

Villain eyed Hero for a second before they came up and stood in front of them.

“Touch me,” Villain demanded.

Hero’s face immediately bloomed red. They averted their gaze and stumbled over what they were going to say next.

“Oh, get your head out of your ass,” Villain rolled their eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. You said I’m the only one who can see or hear you, right?” Hero nodded and Villain continued. “Maybe I can touch you too?” 

Hero gulped. What struck the most confusion in them is why Villain was being so gentle with them now. Before, Villain would taunt them, annoy them, throw them around during fights, hell Hero still had all the scars from years of fighting Villain. Hero blinked at Villain before they swallowed the lump in their throat. 

“I’ve never heard of that happening before,” Hero said. However, Hero lied. They couldn’t count how many times in the past two weeks they sat and watched Villain sleep, soothed them from their night terrors. They would squeeze Villains hand or hold them close until they stopped screaming. 

When Hero looked up at Villain, they carefully laid their palm against against Villains cheek. 

Villain was visibly shocked when Hero’s hand touched their skin. 

“You’re so cold,” Villain choked out. 

Hero let out an airy laugh. “Well, what did you expect?” They asked.

Villain stood there with Hero’s hands on the their face for a few seconds longer. The tenderness they never felt in their youth was flowing through Hero and into Villain, they felt the pain of the past creep up their throat before taking a step back. 

Hero could tell something was bothering Villain the moment their hand touch their skin. Villain averted their gaze to any direction other than Hero. 

When Hero went to say something, Villain shook their head and thanked Hero before walking away in a haste. 

When Villain was sure they were out of sight, they let their back fall against the wall with a heavy breath they’d been holding in. They closed their eyes and their head fell back against the hard drywall. 

When Hero’s hands had touched their skin, it took all of Villains willpower not to lean into their touch, not to sigh and pull them close and enjoy their embrace. Villain pressed their palms to their eyes and rubbed the thoughts from their head. 

“Are you okay, Villain?” 

Villain jumped and almost had a heart attack. Their hand flew over their chest in an attempt to slow their heart rate. 

“Don’t do that,” Villain glared. 

Hero scoffed and leaned against the opposing wall. “Well, thanks to your fuck up, I’m literally bound to you, so I don’t have a choice. One second, I’m enjoying the silence and then the next I’m trying to calm you from a night terror.” Hero didn't even try to hide the fact that they’ve seen Villain in such a vulnerable state. 

Villain blinked at Hero, not sure if they’d heard them correctly. “What?” 

Now Hero wasn’t feeling so confident. They averted their gaze to their shoes. 

“You kept having this screaming fit in your sleep,” they shrugged. “So, I laid with you until you calmed down.” 

Villain stilled. 

“Last night wasn’t the only time either,” Hero mumbled. “Usually you’d try and fight me off but last night,” they visibly blushed. “You hugged me really tight. Kept saying not to leave you.” 

Villain felt all the color drain from their face. 

“I tried getting up after a while but you were holding on so tight and I was afraid that if you saw us like that, you would just get mad at me and things would be awkward…” Hero chewed on their lip and peered up at Villain.

Villain hated Hero. Absolutely no love in their heart was for Hero. But somehow, Villains whole body felt icky and warm at the thought of Hero cuddled so innocently into them. Villain narrowed their eyes at Hero and their fists clenched.

“I don’t need your help, Hero,” they seethed. “I’ve made it this far without your help— without anybody’s help.”

Hero took a step to the side and turned to walk down the hall. They didn’t say anything to Villain before they used their new found ghostly abilities and disappeared.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hero sat on the roof top, unable to go any further due to the invisible handcuffs that bound them and Villain together. The wind blew through Hero’s hair. 

Hero frowned. They wished they could feel the nip of the cold weather against their skin again. Being dead didn’t mean Hero didn’t have feelings anymore, if anything they were heightened. Hero may not be able to bleed anymore or produce tears, but they knew that if they were alive their eyes would be blurry with hurt. 

Hero was confused, so confused about so many things. One being why they were still here, why they didn’t go to heaven or... the other place. Why must they be tied to Villain? What was the point, the reason for being stuck with their sworn enemy. 

They looked over the city they’ve spent their entire life protecting and now all they could do was sit back and watch. They could hear the sirens go off and police cars fly by Villains well hidden hideout. 

Hero had spent so much time in this part of the city growing up and not once had they known someone lived right on the other side of this building. 

Villains voice cut through Hero's glorious silence once again. “Why didn’t you tell me I could touch you?” They stood behind Hero still hurt and sour from earlier. Hero didn’t speak, they couldn’t.

If they did, they might just breakdown in front of Villain and that was the last thing they wanted them to see. 

“Answer me,” Villain said through clenched teeth. “Hero...” they warned. 

“I don’t know,” they mumbled. Villain snapped at them to speak up and Hero jolted. “I don't know! I just-- I don’t know.” 

Villain took a step closer their hand landing on Hero's shoulder. They could tell something was up. 

Without saying another word, Villain sat down next to Hero with a heavy sigh. Hero couldn't take it any longer and within an instant, their arms were wrapped around Villains neck. 

Villain still wasn't used to the coldness of Hero’s skin nor the affection that they were giving them. They held Hero as they sob into their chest, unsure of where to put their hands, they settled for laying them on Hero’s back. 

“I’m sorry,” Hero muttered. “I’m so sorry!” 

Now, it was Villains turn to be confused. Why was Hero apologizing? And for what?

“Come on,” Villain gently pushed Hero’s shoulders back and grimaced at the intimacy. “You…you’re okay.”

Unsure of what to do, Villain rested their elbowed on their knees while their legs dangled off the edge. Hero wrapped their arms around their abdomen and hunched their shoulders.

“You know,” they sniffed. “I grew up out here. Before I made it to the top, I was living off scraps and my fathers shitty income.”

Villain just stared at the ground below them as Hero talked.

“I was never really accepted among the people I grew up around, of course that was before they understood what I could do,” they breathed. “After they found out, I was abused. Used for my power, tested on, studied, poked— I was a lab rat for so many years.”

Hero shifted and ran a hand through their hair. “I wouldn’t have become a the Hero of the city if I didn’t escape. They woulda killed me if they had the chance.”

They remembered that day as if it were yesterday.

Supervillain locked the chains around Hero’s wrists, binding them to the chair. Hero let their head fall forward in exhaustion.

“Please,” Hero mumbled. “I can’t take anymore.”

Supervillain scoffed and harshly grabbed their chin, forcing their face up to meet his. “Such a pretty subject,” he said as he completely regarded what Hero begged. “This will only hurt for a second.”

[a-slice-of-cate]

😵‍💫😮‍💨

maybe katsuki should of thought twice before offering his shirt for you to sleep in. and maybe his assistant should be more careful when making hotel room reservations so mix ups like these don’t happen again. he lies in bed with you next to him, you’re so close that he could reach over and pull you into his arms with ease. he wants to, yet he shouldn’t. but gosh do you make it difficult, especially when you’re dressed in his clothes, enveloped in him. he just hopes he’ll be able to get some sleep tonight, even though the racing thoughts of you in his head don’t leave him much hope.

[a-slice-of-cate]

ahhhh 💕💕

bakugo inhales sharply, "fuck–"

you smile against his skin, as you pepper soft kisses along his neck, up to his jaw and back down again.

he complains half-heartedly, but you know it's all for show, especially by the way he's craning his neck to the side, and tilting his head back. he swallows thickly, breathing heavily as he lets out a quiet, "don't do that."

you simply smirk, as he goes lax in your arms, letting his eyes flutter shut as you bite and suck at his skin teasingly softly. "don't lie to me and say you don't like it, katsuki." he almost whimpers at the teasing tone at which you whisper in his ear. "we both know you do."

he clenches his jaw, but stays still, silently begging you to keep going, and his eyes almost roll back when he feels your tongue trail along his skin again, wet and warm between soft kisses. he feels like he's going to explode, hips twitching to buck into the air.

"fuck, okay just–don't leave too many marks." he very easily gives in and you reward him by giving him what he's too afraid to ask for. you know sometimes he just wants to be taken care of, worshipped. and you're more than willing to give that to him.

[a-slice-of-cate]

Death Do Us Part {2}

part 1

It’s been a week and Villain was starting to come to terms with the fact that even though Hero was ‘dead’, they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.. they were just starting to get annoying. 

“Hey, I don't like this anymore than you do, Villain,” Hero held their hands up in defense. “Just gotta find someone who could either bring me back or send me to wherever you go when you’re dead.” 

Villain groaned into their pillow. It wasn’t even seven in morning and Hero decided they were bored. 

“Why me,” Villain rolled onto their back and their arms flew over their eyes. “This complete and utter bullshit.” 

“Your fault for killing me,” Hero mumbled. They picked at their nails as they sat with one leg over the other on the end of Villains bed. 

Villain felt the slight pang in their chest at the mention of the accident. They made a new promise to themselves to not let it bother them anymore. 

“Yeah well it was your fault for getting in my way, Hero,” that hurt to say. Villain shot out of their bed and stood over Hero. “You're an idiot. You got yourself killed, I’m just lucky enough to have to deal with your ghost ass until further notice.” 

Hero scoffed and got right up in Villain’s face. “If I wasn’t made of literal air I would pound you so hard into the ground right now!” Hero said through their teeth. 

Villain snarled and turned away with clenched fists. A part of the situation made them happy because it was just like old times, playing cat and mouse for years, bickering and squawking at each other. 

On the other hand, Hero wanted nothing to do with Villain, they just wanted things to go back to normal so they could get back to their normal life. They enjoyed tormenting Villain, always waiting for the right moment during Villain's villainous acts to stop them just to annoy them. 

In fact, Hero didn’t want to be a hero at all. They would much rather just do what they thought was best for the city, not what the mayor or their boss thought was right. 

Maybe if they lived a little longer, they could’ve had that opportunity. 

But now, they were literally bound to Villain and where ever Villain went, Hero was forced to follow. How pleasant.  

Villain had disguised themself before exiting their base and walking down the streets of their city. 

“Why are you following me?” They asked with an irritated edge to their voice. 

Hero snorted out a laugh as they they walked right next to Villain. A few bystanders gave Villain weird look as they walked by. 

Hero burst into a fit of laughter that normally would’ve caused a scene but nobody seemed phased. That struck a ray of confusion in Villain. 

“What is so funny?!” They said through their teeth. “Stop laughing!” 

More people began to stare at Villain and Hero. 

“You’re too dumb for your own good, Villain.” Hero leaned against the wall. “You do realize that you’re the only person who can see or hear me, right?” 

Villain took a second for Hero's words to register but once they did, Villain’s face scrunched up in anger. “Why you little-!” 

“Careful there, sweetie,” Hero teased. “People are gonna start thinking you’re crazy.” 

Villain shook their head and began walking in the direction of the store. That's when they got an idea. Villain pulled out their cell phone and held it up to their ear before entering the store. 

“Who are you calling?” Hero asked. “Last time I check, you don’t have any friends.” 

“You’re so annoying you know that?” he said, pretending like he was on the phone. “Now, I understand your situation, but do you still need like- food? Is that still a necessity?” 

Hero stopped in their tracks. 

Are they talking to me? Hero wondered to themselves. 

“Hello? Hero?” 

Hero snapped out of their thoughts. 

“Uh, I’m not sure,” they managed. “But we can try!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Villain immediately went to the isle that had something that piped Hero’s interest. Villain grabbed a few things off the shelf before discarding them into the basket they were carrying. 

In it were a few of Hero’s favorite snacks. Hero’s face bloomed in warmth at the thought of someone caring enough to know what snacks they liked without asking-- even if it was Villain.

How do they know? 

“Oi,” Villain held the phone to their ear again and scanned the shelf with their hand. “What kind?” 

Hero stepped up behind Villain and looked until their eyes landed on the sweet treat they loved. 

“That one!” Hero pointed. “The strawberry one..” 

Villain grabbed it and moved to a new isle. 

Hero stayed back a few steps behind Villain, lost in thought. If Villain hated them so much, why were they caring enough to wonder if Hero still needed to be fed or what flavor of sugary snacks they liked? Or they fact that they knew the other things Hero liked at all. 

It was so confusing to Hero. They thought Villain hated them. So why bother themselves with figuring out simple little joys in Hero’s life? 

Hero shook their head and continued to follow Villain, this time mostly willingly. 

[a-slice-of-cate]

I love this <3 

[ 11:43pm ]

katsuki lay in bed across from you, crimson eyes pinned on yours, near glowing in the darkness.

“why're you staring.” he grumbles, his sleepy voice rumbling from his chest.

“i'm not staring— you are.” you softly laugh, bringing your hand up to his forehead, and pushing back the ash blond hair to gradually rest on his stubbled cheek. he doesn’t answer you and instead decides to clamber over you and nearly shove his face into yours, noses brushing and breaths entwining. he cages you in his large bulking hold but you don’t feel intimidated one bit.

he brings himself even closer to you, and gently rests his forehead against yours before slowly closing his eyes. you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, and brush through his soft hair, slightly pulling at the roots.

“i hate you.” he whispers. you know he doesn't mean it.

“i hate you too.” you mumble with a drowsy grin. you definitely don’t mean it.

thanks for reading ! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[a-slice-of-cate]

Death Do Us Part {1}

Villain tried to forget Hero. 

So many nights they spent banging their head against the wall or praying to whatever god was up there to make them forget about their innocent Hero. 

“Villain,” 

The voice they wanted to forget so badly sounded from behind Villain. They turned around to meet their gaze and when they did, tears were falling down Hero’s face. 

“Go away,” Villain said. They didn't want to, but they had to get Hero away from them. “Just... go away.” 

“You don’t miss me?” Hero asked, cocking their head. “Do you not feel the guilt?” 

“Go away!” Villain grabbed their ears in an attempt to block out Hero’s voice. 

Hero stepped closer to Villain, hands on Villain’s cheeks. Hero placed a soft kiss on their forehead before sitting back on their heels and wrapping their arms around their knees. 

“You killed me, Villain,” they said quietly. “This is your new curse.” 

Villain promised themself to never cry, but the death of their beloved Hero broke that promise. They didn’t mean to kill their precious Hero, never in a million years would they every dream of hurting them that badly. 

“I’m sorry,” Villain mumbled out. 

part 2

[a-slice-of-cate]

“NO!” Villain screamed as Hero’s body fell from the top of the building. Their heart pounded a million miles a minute as they ran towards Hero just in time to catch them before they hit the ground.

Villain held Hero close to their chest, arms and hands wrapped protectively around Hero. Their breath was hot against Hero’s skin.

“I’ve got you, love,” Villain mumbled pulling Hero closer. “I’ve got you.”