#teahouse collab: dark chocolates

[tsukkismoonlight]

For You, Anything || NakedToaster x Reader

Authors note: I meant to put this in when i posted it hut work got in the way smh but !! This was my piece for the Teahouse collab, which you can find the other entries here !

Warnings: general warnings around breakups, thoughts/anxiety related to self image/self worth

Summary: You've sworn off love. After the way your last ex treated you, after all of the heartbreak, and all of the nights you lost to someone who didn't care, you have had enough. Or, that's what the plan had been. You wouldn't have guessed that a tiny fan server with less than ten members hid someone who made everything feel like all of that pain was worth it. And you, they'd do just about anything.

WC: 1.5k

You can tell that the little server is starting to wake for the night, by the sound of your notifications going off at a rapid pace. A smile crosses your face as you head over to your computer, double clicking on its icon that you had previously pinned to the taskbar.

One by one the messages loaded before your eyes, not that you had much time to read them before everyone was welcoming you back.

Nightowl was the first, as he quickly sent 'Hey hey hey! My fellow insomniac is here!'

'You two seriously need to fix your sleep schedules.' Was Onion's way of saying hi to you today.

'Hello to you too, Onion. I swear i'm trying my hardest' you type in response, before pausing and sending another message, 'Nightowl on the other hand…he's beyond saving.'

This earned an appearance from Quest, who came in to defend Nightowl on the low, 'Lets not gang up on the kid,'

'Thanks Quest, at least someone believes in me T-T'

You hummed to yourself, as another message made its way into the server. Though, this time it wasn't directed at you.

'Well if it isn't the ever so elusive Toaster.' Xyx's odd profile picture graced the chat room as he noted that Nakedtoaster was now active in the server.

'Wakey wakey Toast and shakey~' came Nightowl, quick to reference a story that Salo had told the group some few days ago.

'That again? How many times are you going to greet me with that, Owl?' You could practically hear the half-hearted exasperation through Toaster's message as if he was sitting right next to you.

'Is it better than Xyx always following up with "what's shakin bacon?" ' owl asked next, knowing full and well that Toaster really didn't mind either of the terms.

You took the slight lapse in the conversation to greet him yourself, 'good evening Toasty,'

'yeah yeah evening' he sends, then a short pause before another message from him loads, 'specifically good evening to you though.'

Another smile settles onto your features, as you reread his message.

From there the server seemed to find a good tempo in a happy conversation, talking about some bloomic fan-theory that June happened to come across just a few days prior.

You pull your attention away from the monitor for a moment to check your phone, swiping away the notifications displayed at the top of its screen. Outside of the server, you didn't have very many people to talk to. Sure, you had a few friends from work, and maybe one or two acquaintances that you made when you were still in school, but as life seemed to drag on, the less you heard from them. There was a point in time where you had a previous partner, and you had spent most of your free time with him.

And while things had started off nicely, they didn't end that way. He was controlling, you had to dress a certain way, speak a certain way, you had to take interest in the things he liked. The conversations were never about you. He would constantly criticize you, from the way you looked, to the way you'd write your As. By the time you finally managed to escape the guy, he had stripped you of who you were, or who you had been.

Your eyes glance to the date in the corner of your monitor. It had been nearly a year and a half since then. A year and a half of trying to fit cut up puzzle pieces together, in hopes that you'd get to see yourself again. Eighteen months of pushing yourself past your limits just to pick your hobbies and interests back up. Eighteen months of wondering if you could even go back to who you were before the guy.

A quiet ping from your computer broke you from your thoughts, and you looked to see a message from Toasty in the juicy gamers channel, one that only held Xyx, Toaster and yourself. Its purpose was supposed to be for Toaster and Xyx to talk about ffxiv, but by now it was just another chat room within the bloomic server.

As you clicked on the channel, you saw that it had been Nakedtoaster who pinged you, asking if you were alright, since you had gone quiet in the general chat.

'I'm alright! I was just thinking about something a little serious, I guess I got lost in my train of thought for a bit.'

You watched as it showed him typing, then a pause, then that he was typing again. Finally, he sent his message, 'wanna talk in the voice channel? You can share your thoughts with me if you'd like'

You pause for a moment. That would mean telling them about your ex. Not that you weren't ever open about your past with the server before. But, this was different. After breaking things off with your ex, you had promised yourself to do one thing; to swear off love, at least until you were ready to try again. You didn't want to rush into another relationship, only to doubt yourself again. You couldn't get stuck in another situation like that, especially if you weren't ready to put yourself first. And if you were being honest with yourself, you hardly had the words to explain that to someone else.

Yet, you found yourself joining Toaster's call, easily falling into the pattern that the two of you had made in your time in the server.

"You /still/ take forever to join calls," he smiles into his camera, slightly leaned forwards as they spoke into their mic.

You playfully roll your eyes at the comment, sighing as you did, "Not my fault /someone/ is so impatient,"

"Only because it's you,"

Your breath seems to hitch in your throat. Toaster said it so casually, that you almost missed how they actually meant it. You always seemed to misinterpret their words, everything he said always felt like it held more weight. And despite your vow to stay far away from relationships, you could never shake off the ever growing mix of anxiety and something that you didn't want to name that resided within your mind.

"Hey, you alright? I've called your name a few times now," Toasty is leaned back in his chair again, a worried look clear as day on his face.

You blink a few times, fighting off an awkward smile, mind racing to think of any excuse. When you couldn't form the words, Toaster let out a slow chuckle, as if he had understood your train of thought.

"I meant that as in…well." He paused, a heavy blush spreading across his face, "As in, I really enjoy talking with you and I'm impatient."

"But, only me?"

"Yeah. I wanted to say something earlier, but, I think I might have developed..uh..feelings for you."

The feeling was back. A confusing amount of dread, and content, like oil and water, refusing to mix but making themselves known aggressively.

"Toaster I-" you start, feeling your hands begin to shake, "I'm not…well…I don't want to outright say no or anything but..I'm not sure I'm ready for..well for that."

To your surprise, they let out another gentle laugh, nodding their head as they leaned back towards their mic, "I know,"

"Huh?"

"Well, I remembered awhile back that you mentioned a shitty ex, so I figured that this might be the case if I did confess…which is why I prepared myself." You watch as he fidgets with the short microphone stand, his eyes straying to something on his desk as he continued, "I'm not going to rush you. And I'm not going to make you tell me anything about your past relationship. I wanted to tell you that I like you, so that you know that I'm here, if you'll have me, whenever that may be."

You were stunned. Despite spending so much time with the Blooming Panic server, getting to know everyone, and letting them get to know this new, healing version of yourself, you had never stopped to think that any of them would actually take a deeper interest in you. Especially when you seemed to feel so lost in your own self worth and image, like looking into a mirror that was hastily glued back together. And yet they had. Nakedtoaster had looked at the same mirror, and decided that he wanted you.

You hardly notice a small stream of tears that fall from your face, as you speak, "You'd do that for me? You'd really wait?"

They lean back in their chair again, looking towards their camera with half lidded eyes, "I like you for who you are, and I know that. So, as long as I know that I want you, I'm okay with waiting."

He lets you sit for a moment, not commenting on your tears, or on the way you couldn't believe his words. Toasty was true to their words, they'd be okay with you taking your time, in this moment, and in the next. Something told you that you could trust him with that. Slowly, you let a smile make its way onto your face as you wipe away the uncertainty that had come from your eyes. Then, when you bring your attention back to them, they say one more thing.

"So, of course. For you, I'd do anything."

[lou-struck]

Standing Still

Wakatoshi Ushijima x reader

~ You have been together for eight years, but it doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

Genre: Breakup Angst

This is my Submission for the teahouse's discord Dark Chocolate collab. LINK HERE

a/n: this was a bit hard to write since falling out of love is one of my biggest fears.

Waking up in total darkness to an empty bed is always sardonic. Wakatoshi's side has already been made, and his gym bag is missing from its usual spot by his dresser. No doubt training early again today.

You move aside the pillows that divide the hot and cold sections of the mattress so you can finish tucking the charcoal gray sheets and smoothing the quilted down just so. With the bed made, you move about your comfortably quiet apartment, making yourself some breakfast and a coffee just the way you like it. Its warmth washes over you like a blanket as you sit at the small kitchen table.

Your bored scrolling through your phone leads you to Snapchat, where the little red dot at the bottom of your screen entices you to see what memories from years past the app will be showing you.

The first image looks to be from eight years ago; it's just a mirror selfie of you wearing an absolutely stunning red dress in your old bedroom with a black bar caption that reads Date-Ready.

You furrow your brows as you scroll to the next memory, a video, You and Wakatoshi feeding each other spoonfuls of dessert at another restaurant, a pinkish tint to both of your cheeks as you giggle and stare at each other as if you are the only two people in the world.

It makes you smile as you scroll to the next one, the two of you riding in a horse-drawn carriage around the brick-paved streets of the Historic District. His Black jacket is wrapped comfortably around your shoulders. You lean against his muscle frame for warmth while he grips the reigns and stares forward with a soft smile on his usually stoic face.

The fourth is a silly one of the two of you stuck in a glass elevator of the luxury hotel he had booked for the two of you. After one too many glasses of champagne you mistook the emergency fire button for your floor number and were stuck behind the glass walls for an hour. The two of you missed your dinner reservation but ended up ordering all the desserts off of the room service menu.

you let out a little snort as you remember how gently he carried you out of the heart-shaped bathtub you insisted you wanted to sleep in it instead of the bed. That year was such a great anniversary.

Anniversary?

Shit!

Today is your eight-year anniversary with Wakatoshi Ushijima; you curse yourself for not remembering the date as you click to the next memory. It's another snap of the two of you at a candlelit restaurant. The light of his phone screen illuminates his face as he smiles at the camera. You don't know why, but you don't even know if you'd call this a memory. Try as you might, you can't seem to remember anything special about that night.

Your fingers move to tap the screen and check the next one, only to find that year five was the last one you recorded, the other two are just as forgettable. A sour taste fills your mouth as you reach the bottom of your coffee cup and stare at the fifth image, trying to decipher whatever loving fondness you have behind that date.

"God dammit!" You slam your hand into the table in frustration before you stand up and toss your phone over to the couch. it bounces harmlessly on the cushions as you rush to the bathroom and hopes that splashing a bit of cold water on your face will help soothe the sickening feeling sloshing around in your stomach.

~

Your heart feels as if it is getting squeezed by the air in your lungs as your boyfriend's keys jingle the lock of your front door.

And suddenly, it says if you forgot how to breathe. You don’t know what to do with yourself, do you stand? Do you sit? How are you ever going to bring this up?

After far too long, the jingling stops, and he comes into the room, plopping his gym bag down and closing the door behind him.

When he sees you, he gives you a smile, the smile that used to set forth the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. But now, the only thing you feel is shame.

“Y/n, I’m home,” he says, walking past you and to the fridge where he grabs one of his bottle protein drinks that remind you of liquid drywall. He downs it in quick gulps and tosses the empty container in the recycling bin before looking at your face.

“You look upset,” is something the matter?” he asks, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. But you push it away, afraid of crumbling under his gentle touch.

"Do you know what day it is today, Toshi?" you ask quietly, looking up at the handsome man In front of you.

“Tuesday?” he answers matter o factly. But one look at your face tells him that Tuesday is not the right answer. “There’s something else, isn't there.”

You let out a dry chuckle and nod, “I guess you could say that. It’s our eighth year anniversary.”

He looks a bit confused and taps his smartwatch to see the date a. “Oh….”

His response makes you feel sick to your stomach, and in that moment, you know exactly what is going to be happening tonight. And it’s definitely not dinner. “Oh…”

His olive eyes glaze over a bit as he follows you into the bedroom, “Y/n, I’m sorry. I can make us a reservation somewhere.

“I forgot too, Toshi. It’s not just you.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you sit down on the edge of the bed, rubbing your temples in frustration. “What are we even doing, Wakatoshi?”

You feel the mattress dip as he sits down next to you and lets out a deep sigh of his own. “I don’t..I don’t know.”

You grab his hand and take a breath; “We aren't going anywhere, are we?”

He stares straight ahead of him as his voice cracks, “No, I’m sorry.” The innocently sorrowful expression on his face makes him look more like a kid than a pro athlete.

Your thumb rubs small circles across the back of his large hand. "It's not your fault; we both just have been kinda, umm."

"Standing still." His breath comes out shakily as he takes his hand out of your hold. “Should we?”

It’s vague, but you know exactly what he is insinuating. You swallow the lump in your throat and meet his gaze, hoping that you’ll be able to feel the love you have felt for him all those years. “I think, we need we need to break up.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again as if it is his fault you are in this situation. “But I think there is no other choice.”

“D-do, do you hate me?” you ask.

He cups your face tenderly; the movement is natural, caring. But not romantic. “I could never hate you.”

“And I could never hate you,” you say, wrapping your arms around him for the last time. “I really wanted this to work.”

His lips gently kiss the top of your forehead. “Me too…”

He stands up and clears his throat, “I will be back tomorrow to pick up my stuff,” 

You nod and watch him walk towards the door, but before he steps into the hallway, he pauses at the door. 

His stoic features turn toward you, his frown looks more like a scowl, but he never was that good at expressing his emotions. “I’m sorry, y/n. I really wanted to be the one to fall in love with you.”

“I know, Toshi.” you say with your voice cracking pitifully. “I wish it could have ended differently.”

You still don’t say anything as he once again turns. His heavy footsteps echo through the hallway before disappearing completely. Even as the lights of his car flood the darkened street,

You cannot find it in yourself to cry; you just sit there watching him go for the last time.

[pikatsum]

Title: The Night Train

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku/Reader

Tags: SFW, Angst with a happy ending, slight hurt/comfort, Valentines Day theme.

Summary:

Instead, ever tactless in the face of pressing silence, you opened your mouth and said:

“What, did we both get dumped, tonight?”

(also posted on my ao3 — Undercover_Royalty)

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

Tonight was supposed to be about flowers and romance, and gifting the stupid handmade chocolates you had spent all night making and remaking again, like a lunatic. It was supposed to end… you didn’t know how, exactly. Not with an ominous text, a stiff conversation, and a weight in your chest that refused to dissipate. Your first serious relationship was not supposed to end on Valentines Day of all things.

And yet, there you were, draped over a subway seat like a lazing royal, the chocolates you’d spent so much effort on now decimated before you as you mindlessly consumed them and did whatever you had to, to keep yourself from dissecting every moment of the last three hours. You had only barely managed to catch the last train back towards Tokyo. At the very least, you had distractions all around you. The night train was different on holidays— people were more causal, more chaotic— and it seemed that Valentines was no exception.

Case in point, the man across from you was crying.

To his credit, he was at least trying to hide it. You watched through the corner of your eye as he— curled up against the window— made subtle attempts to wipe at his eyes with both scarred hands, broad shoulders trembling just faintly beneath a black hoodie, emblazoned with an official Uravity logo. His shoes, you’d already noted, were vibrantly Ingenium-themed— complete with embroidered details mimicking his exhaust pipes that came off the heels. And, as if the hood of his sweatshirt wasn’t enough to conceal him, the stranger had hidden his face further, beneath a Dynamight-themed baseball cap. You quickly glanced back out the window when he tugged it down further, followed by a near-silent attempt to catch his breath.

Your chest ached even worse. You weren’t good with tears. Not because you didn’t know what to do with them, but because somebody else’s tears often and unwillingly cranked up your own waterworks, in solidarity. When combined with the completely wretched night you’d already had, tears were increasingly imminent. And, under no circumstances would you allow yourself to start crying in public, on Valentines Day. The bad-movie cliche that your life had turned into could only go so far.

As the train pulled to its next stop, you silently prayed that the crying man would take his exit. When he made no attempt to do so, you briefly considered taking yours. But a cab from here would be hellishly expensive this hour, and your safety cushion for tonight had already been blown on cocktails, so, despite the discomfort, you stayed, foot bouncing anxiously as the doors clicked closed and the train moved on.

Your eyes began to sting— something had to give. You hadn’t cried at the bar, or in the bathroom, or on the frigid walk to the station, all by your lonesome. So you refused to let this stranger, of all things, bring you to tears. With not many options available to you, you reached for the one easily-accessible item in your possession, digging into the once delicately-packaged contents of the box at your side.

Now came the awkward part.

Given that there weren’t exactly protocols written for interrupting a stranger’s crying session, you were left with no choice but to perform an extremely-cringeworthy clearing of your throat.

Thankfully, the stranger was on a hairpin-trigger. You’d barely started before his eyes— a brilliant shade of forest-green that stood out amongst the dimness of your surroundings— flashed up to meet yours. There were tears percolating at his lash line. You abruptly felt extremely stupid for inserting yourself into what was clearly a very personal moment— but, when the sight of him made your unfairly-sympathetic heart pang again, you carried on, extending your hand and the small wrapped treat it contained.

“Hey, uh… I’m kind of planning on throwing these away— do you want one?”

He stared at you a moment longer. There was something a bit deeper than curiosity, there. A faint surge of adrenaline fanned out between your shoulders— it felt like you were being studied. You couldn’t blame him for that, either, you supposed. After all, it probably <i>was</i> best to be cautious when random strangers offered you candy on the midnight subway. And yet, a moment later, he reached out to take it.

“…Thank you.”

His voice was soft, a bit higher than you’d anticipated. With somebody that tall, and broad and covered-up, you’d half-expected a voice like the Terminator. Still, his thanks was genuine, and a tiny sense of pride coiled in your chest as you offered your gift. It was then that your seat-mate surprised you again, as he moved to sit up properly, and revealed what he’d been curled up against, this entire time.

“I, um…” he offered, shuffling the largest heart-shaped box in existence out from against his side, “I’m happy to, uh… pay you back, so to speak. These aren’t nearly as nice, though.”

What his chocolates may lack in the homemade department, you thought, they more than made up for in sheer ostentation. You instantly recognized the embossed name on the box, a popular French chocolaterie in Shibuya that saw lines out the door, every day. You’d caught yourself staring into their massive windows more than once as impeccably-dressed chefs whisked bowls of gleaming melted chocolate, letting it drizzle elegantly from their spoons to decorate their latest confections. Looking at the sheer size of the box, you couldn’t even imagine how much it must have cost.

And yet… ‘not nearly as nice’? What kind of a world did you live in, that someone could casually insinuate that your own desperate attempts at homemade chocolate were better than those made by people that had surely trained overseas for such a thing? You thought of asking your seatmate if he was making fun of you. You thought of asking him how exactly someone could buy the nicest set of chocolates you’d ever seen, and still show up to what you assumed was some kind of date, dressed like he was going to a hero convention.

You did not, ultimately, ask him any of that. Instead, ever tactless in the face of pressing silence, you opened your mouth and said:

“What, did we both get dumped, tonight?”

Briefly, you considered bolting to the next car, or, more simply, smashing your head against the window to knock yourself out.

But then, through sniffles, your seatmate gave a little jolt that might have been a laugh.

It’s a start, at least.

“I… I thought so, but...” he said, those bright green eyes flickering up to meet you, in a way that was almost too-knowing, “It would’ve been rude to assume.”

“Dude.” you deadpanned, lounging back in your seat, gesturing to the carnage of chocolate wrappers around you, “Nice outfit, a crappy box of half-eaten chocolate, and the general aura of despair? What else do I need, a neon sign?”

“Despair?” his head tilted, “Is that what you call that?”

“Hey, back off,” you batted your hand, uselessly, “I’ll process my own shortcomings my way and you process yours, your way.”

There’s a flicker of a smile, briefly revealing a row of straight teeth.

“Fair enough.” he said, “Can I offer you a chocolate, in your contemplation?”

In the pursuit of expensive chocolate, you were, admittedly, shameless.

“Yes, please.”

He pushed the box forwards in the seat so carelessly that it almost toppled off— he steadied it, belatedly. And sure, he probably wouldn’t want anything to do with them at this point, but you, luckily, held no such reservations. With a chocolate in each hand, you retreated. In seconds, you’d eaten both, barely concealing an entirely-inappropriate sound for mixed company— it turned out that those chocolatiers didn’t waste all that effort just for show.

“I’ve never tried that place, but I know it’s pretty popular.” you nodded towards the box, “It looks like you went to some trouble, there.”

He shrugged.

“Well… I tried. But, you probably had a better idea.” he gestures to your sad, torn box, red ribbon draped over the seat and flapping uselessly in the air-conditioning.

“And yet…” you gestured to the space between your seats, “Here we both are.”

“Here we both are.” he echoed.

It cracked something in you, that had been trying to hold itself together. Again, your eyes stung. Again, you looked up to the ceiling, blinking hard against the fluorescent lights.

“It… really sucks.”

“Yeah.” he shrugged, “But… maybe not as much as it could’ve.”

“Hmm.”

That… was kind of true, you supposed. This had to have been better than riding back alone. Better than allowing all the nitpicking thoughts to fully overtake you, to spiral in the depth of the silence. Which… you abruptly realized, as the screech of the tracks reached your ears, was probably looming on the horizon, once you got back home.

You looked at your seat mate, who had evidently preoccupied himself with stealing another lopsided chocolate in your lapse of concentration. Your Valentines romance was a gut-wrenching failure. But maybe… maybe your night didn’t have to end up as miserable as it has become.

“Hey, uh…” you again broke the silence, “Do not— I mean it— do not take this the wrong way. But I would rather plaster myself on the sidewalk than go back to my apartment, right now.”

“I get it.” he replied, “I’m… not really in the mood to face the doom-spiral right now, either.”

Okay. So, maybe you weren’t crazy. Maybe it was reasonable to assume that the both of you could use the excuse of shared-company to avoid thinking about your own problems, at least for now. You offered an awkward sort of smile.

“I know of a good ramen shop, nearby. Super casual.” you shrugged, “And, if it’s any motivation, the drinks are cheap.”

He smiled back at you. Unlike the awkward motion you’d performed, it was authentic— warm, and inviting. It was the first truly kind expression you’d seen, all night.

“That sounds nice.” he said, glancing up as the subway began to screech towards its final stop, “I could use dinner that isn’t half my paycheck, and half the size of the plate it comes on.”

You laughed, unable to help it. And, under the din of disembarking passengers and the smooth, robotic voice reminding you all that this is the last stop of the last train, you finally introduced yourselves, before setting off for cheap ramen and polite small talk.

It wasn’t much. But, unbeknownst to either of you, it was a start, all its own.

[sipsteainanxiety]

when the night calls...

...do you answer back?

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.7k+

mentions: no pronouns mentioned, char death (bkg) but not reaaalllyyy, aged up chars (25+), supernatural elements in a pro-hero au, grief/mourning, horror-esque but it's romantic i promise, hurt/comfort, lowercase, part of the dark chocolates teahouse collab.

you thought katsuki was gone—that he had abandoned you in this life to move on to the next. you saw his body—lifeless, cold, still. saw him get lowered into the ground in his dark casket enveloped in his hero colors. you stayed, for hours after the funeral, at his grave. wondering why he had to leave—why he had to break the promise he whispered to you on the night you both said your vows.

you thought he was dead. that he'd left you alone.

you were wrong.

the shadows seemed to long for your touch.

they lingered just out of the corner of your vision, always appearing closer than they actually were. you'd turn to see them stretching in your direction in ways that did not align with the light. you played it off as your mind playing tricks on you—as your grief warping your perception. but it was so hard to ignore, so hard to simply shrug off.

they crept over your shoulder—a chill running up and down your spine. they followed along as you walked home after a long day at work. they wrapped around you as you slept. you found yourself lingering in the darkness, not quite understanding why you just—never felt like you were alone. not truly alone, anyways. it was slightly unsettling, but you learned to ignore it.

you weren't scared, not particularly. it was just—cold. it made you feel isolated, at times. like the world was trying to shroud you in this darkness to remind you of what you'd lost.

you needed time by yourself, that was all. you told your friends the same stilted words again and again. i'll be fine, you'd say with a smile, just give me time. you lay in bed—that too large bed with too many pillows—and twisted the silver ring on your finger. staring up at the ceiling swathed in the milky lighting of the moon. the shadows appeared to move before you. your mind did not relent in your exhaustion.

with each passing day the ache in your heart only seemed to grow deeper. you wondered if it would ever end. you wondered if you would ever heal.

it was hard, being at home. traces of katsuki lingered everywhere you went. he was in the large boots that rested neatly by the door. in the lingering smell of burnt caramel that plagued your sheets and clothes. in the worn handle of his favorite spatula. it felt like you were suffocating, surrounded by so much of him. it was only natural for you to want to escape—to breathe. but it wasn’t that simple, and stepping outside just made everything worse.

he was on the t.v. screens in stores as japan still grieved, his face on every news channel. plastered to every pole, every brick wall. memorials were scattered around musutafu. candle stubs lined the streets. they were constructing a statue dedicated to him in front of the agency he’d co-owned with eijiro. you did not let your gaze wander for long. you were torn—drowning in your own sorrows and the sorrows of the people who surrounded you.

moping around would do you no good, you came to realize one day as you stared at a framed picture in your bedroom. it was the two of you on your wedding day, fingers intertwined tightly—two threads woven together expertly. the setting sun cast long shadows around the room from the open window that seemed to latch onto you. holding on for dear life. you ran a finger down katsuki’s face in the picture—the gentle smile he’d graced you with. only ever shown in your presence. you set the frame down and sighed—longing.

it took a few days for you to clean the entire apartment. deep scrubbing it and dousing it in a freshener to get rid of the bits of katsuki that lingered in the air. you hoped—so desperately—that it would alleviate some of the pain you felt in your chest. but as you stood in your darkened living room that smelled like citrus, you only felt emptier, it seemed. you ran a weary hand down your face.

you couldn’t… quite bring yourself to pack his things away just yet, either. so you sat on your couch as the moon peaked at you through the slightly drawn curtains, a single candle lit on the coffee table before you. it was lavender scented. you slumped forward to knead your fingers into your temples. you were exhausted. you missed him, so much that it hurt.

you stared at the flickering tangerine flame as it gleamed across your corneas.

something whispered your name.

it was soft—faint like a breath of air—yet it echoed so loudly in your ears because of how quiet your apartment was. your eyes darted up and to the side, wide and searching in the dark. you were alone. you couldn't see much beyond the couch you were sat upon. you swallowed heavily and waited, straining your ears in case you heard your name again. but you didn't.

you wondered if your grief was driving you insane.

you pursed your lips and stood up so you could slowly make your way to your bedroom to retire for the night. the shadows around you grew deeper with every step you took.

behind you, the candle went out.

you felt as though you were being watched.

it happened out of nowhere, the feeling of eyes on you as you went about your day. at first you chalked it up to your nerves, maybe the fatigue that weighed heavily on your shoulders. but it persisted. the feeling was stronger at night, you noticed, when you were surrounded by the dark. or at least, you weren't as aware of it whilst you were bathed in daylight.

it grew harder and harder to ignore as time passed. in other circumstances, you wouldn't have let it affect you so much. you wouldn't have had such difficulty with proceeding on with your daily routine. but you were troubled by the weight of the stare and the voices that whispered your name at night—when you were at your lowest, sitting in that too cold, too wide living room that smelled like a mix of citrus and lavender.

what really shook you, however, happened one evening after the sun had set and a gloomy dusk settled across the navy sky. you were sitting on the couch in your living room as you read a book, the lamp in the corner turned on to swathe everything in a warm honey glow. after what felt like hours, you eventually got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. it was then that you felt your foot get caught on something.

at first you thought you'd fallen victim to the blanket that spilled over the arm of the couch like a lazy waterfall. but when you looked down at your foot, you realized it wasn't stuck on anything. in fact, there was nothing wrong with it. you blinked down at your foot slowly, not comprehending what exactly was going on. it felt as though something had wrapped around it, gripping tightly at your ankle. something you couldn't see.

you gave a halfhearted tug at it, noticing how it was in the shadow of the couch from the lamp's light. but it didn't budge—not one bit. something in your stomach seemed to sink and grow deeper as you tried to pull your foot free from whatever held onto it. you swallowed heavily and—with all the strength in your body—wrenched your foot free. out of the deep shadow it was encased in.

the force you used made you stumble back until you hit the floor roughly on your backside. you immediately tugged your legs closer to your body, staring wide-eyed at the spot your foot had been stuck in before. there was nothing there. the skin around your ankle seemed to buzz. a shiver crawled up your spine.

something had changed, that evening.

you started drawing your curtains wide open, letting in the sun's light during the day and the moon's at night. you kept the lights on in every room you were in, chasing away every last remnant of the shadows. you were driving up your electricity bill, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. anything to make you feel safe—in a place where you once thought you could not be harmed.

it made you jumpy—set your attentiveness on fire. it had gotten to the point where your friends had started to notice something was wrong.

"are you... okay?" mina asked you tentatively one day as you met with her for a late lunch. your eyes darted over to look at her from where they'd been lingering on the shadows splayed across the table. "you seem... nervous."

"i'm fine," you assured her quickly, clearing your throat. your fingers tapped at the laminated menu before you. "i just... ah... have a lot on my mind, is all."

mina hummed, but it didn't seem like she really believed you. "if you say so..." her dark eyes looked down at her own menu, then back up at your own with a newfound sincerity to them. "you know we're here for you, right? i know it's... hard. for you."

you looked at her—really looked at her. she looked as tired as you felt, though where she covered her fatigue up with makeup, you didn't. and you were reminded, just then, that katsuki had been her friend, too.

you reached over so you could give her pink hand a gentle squeeze. "yeah"—you gave her a soft smile that she reciprocated—"i know."

you found yourself, one saturday evening, sitting on the floor in the middle of your brightly lit living room as you shuffled through a cardboard box. in it, were photo albums that mitsuki had gifted you so long ago. they were filled to the brim with childhood photos of katsuki—from the moment he was born, to the moment he and you had finally moved in together. you weren’t sure why, exactly, you were compelled to crack open this box, but you did. and it was simultaneously the best and the worst decision you’d made since his death.

you smiled wetly as your fingers flipped page after page, trailed down picture after picture of katsuki. him when he was five, his palms popping like sparklers. him when he was sixteen, grumpily standing with eijiro outside u.a. him when he was twenty-four, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as he scowled off into the distance. you thought everything would get easier—you hoped and dreamed. but it didn’t. at least, not yet.

you sighed and shut the thick album gently. then you hugged it to your chest, closing your eyes as you reminisced.

you breathed in, deep.

there was the smell of burnt caramel in the air—faint.

your eyes snapped open just as the lights went out around you, plunging you into darkness.

for a moment, your breaths stilled. you blinked, your eyes wide as they adjusted to the sudden change. the open window allowed pale blue moonlight to reach into the room, but it wasn’t enough. you glanced around, wondering what had happened. power outage? you glanced at the t.v. stand, where the cable box on the shelf within it still blinked red numbers at you to tell you the time. that was odd. you frowned and slowly picked yourself off the ground.

the moment you moved, you immediately felt the weight of a foreboding, familiar stare. that bore straight through you and set each and every hair on your arms and neck straight. you froze and let your eyes trail around you, cataloging every piece of furniture, every dark shadow that stretched towards you.

and that was when you noticed it. 

in the deepest, darkest corner of your living room. 

there was something. something that seemed to draw in the darkness around it. that writhed and dripped as it pulled itself up from the ground. no, not from the ground, you discovered. from the shadows. it was large. it was tenebrous. and it terrified you. 

but you couldn’t get yourself to run away. no matter how much you willed your legs to move, it seemed like you were rooted to one spot. you watched as this thing slammed a large, clawed hand on the floor—midnight like the shadows around it—and scratched its nails deep into the wood. it coalesced into what looked like a head and shoulders—a torso that moved in a way that was inhumane.

you took in a sharp breath of air when it rasped out something deep. that grated at your ears and made you feel the sudden urge to run. two crimson dots peered at you—bright like smoldering pieces of coal. and you realized you were looking right into its eyes.

it was difficult to decipher where the thing started and where it ended, with how wrapped into the shadows it was. you felt your heart leap up into your throat when it rasped that same word again—that you soon realized wasn't just any normal word. it was your name. and maybe that realization was all it took to jar you into movement.

you stumbled backwards, your instincts screaming at you to get away—run as fast as you could. it wasn't safe here anymore, it wasn't safe. you spun around and lunged for the front door, hoping, perhaps, that once you left your apartment, you would be okay. you could get help.

but you didn't make it too far.

something latched onto your leg, crawled up your body until you were twirled back around and forced into one spot. the thing wrapped its murky limbs around you, looming over you until all you could see was its strange, dark body. it pinned your arms to your sides and gripped at your chin to make you look up at it.

it said your name again—in a voice, you noticed, was familiar, somehow. with an undertone of this desperation. that gripped at your heart and caused you to look into its crimson eyes once more. really look at them. and what you saw reflected against them made you stop struggling. the pale moonlight backlit its features that slowly took on a shape you could recognize. you swallowed heavily.

"katsuki?" you whispered hesitantly. its grip loosened slightly at your voice. and suddenly you were burning up from the inside as the last bits of shadow slipped from its face and revealed one you knew all too well—that plagued you in your dreams and your nightmares. you slipped a hand out of his hold so you could reach up with shaky fingers and lightly touch at the curve of his cheek. his eyes closed.

"how are—" you choked out, your voice thick with emotions you couldn't even begin to decipher. your eyes frantically darted across his features, taking them in—memorizing them as though it was the last time you would ever see them again. he looked like himself, like your katsuki. but there was his underlying feeling that something was wrong. inhuman in the paleness of his skin and the way this darkness seemed to cling to him, unrelenting. "how are you—"

"i fought through hell," katsuki rasped out in a voice that seemed to echo in your ears, "to get back to you."

"you—" something seemed to lodge itself in your throat, just then. and all you could do was lean forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders. pulling him closer so you could rest your ear against his chest and listen to the thrumming of his heart. alive.

"it was hard"—he swallowed thickly—"i tried so fuckin' hard to let y'know i was here. but i was so fuckin' weak. couldn't do shit other than mess with the lights."

"all that time," you breathed as you turned your gaze to look up at him, "it was you?" he only grunted and held you closer. you bit at the inside of your bottom lip to keep it from trembling and buried your face into his dark chest. his body seemed to waver—shake, almost—like it could fall apart at any second. and that terrified you.

"what... happened to you?" you asked in a stifled voice, talking into his sternum. "please tell me you can stay."

"don't think 'bout that," he told you as one of his clawed hands came up to cradle the back of your head. you sunk deeper into his hold, unwilling to let go. "'m here now, yeah?"

you held him tighter—as though you could absorb him directly into your body. it was true, he was back. he was here as this tumultuous being of the night. that had clawed his way back to you—defying death as you knew it.

but at a cost you knew would never be repaid.

[sipsteainanxiety]

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ valentine's day brings promises of chocolates and roses, hugs and kisses, smiles and laughter. but this year it also happens to bring along something more... bittersweet ˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖

welcome to dark chocolates, a multi-fandom valentine's day collab brought to you by the teahouse, a discord server ran by @petrichorium and myself. you will find stories of romance and love, yes, but with a twist!

the deadline for this collab is, of course, valentine's day, so expect pieces to be posted around then and subsequently updated on this masterlist! you can also track the #teahouse collab: dark chocolates tag for fics as they are uploaded.

please be mindful of the tags listed for each fic. we hope you enjoy all the following wonderful pieces written by the wonderful authors in the server. happy reading! ❦

for you, anything by @tsukkismoonlight

pairing: nakedtoaster x reader

mentions: general warnings around breakups, thoughts/anxiety related to self image/self worth

summary: you've sworn off love. after the way your last ex treated you, after all of the heartbreak, and all of the nights you lost to someone who didn't care, you have had enough. or, that's what the plan had been. you wouldn't have guessed that a tiny fan server with less than ten members hid someone who made everything feel like all of that pain was worth it. and you, they'd do just about anything.

idk man by @antheawritings

pairing: onion thief x reader

mentions: character death

summary: dead grandpa :( but it’s okay bc sexy onion man :)

cacoethes by @venexus

pairing: aki hayakawa x reader

mentions: prior toxic relationship (reader & unnamed ex), romantic tension, smoking

summary: cacoethes (n.) - the urge to do something inadvisable.

alternatively: when you escape a toxic ex, your favourite work colleague is there to pick up the pieces.

untitled by @petrichorium

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x reader

mentions: sfw, royal au, reader is explicitly female, canon typical violence, family death, mourning

summary: in which after five years spent rampaging amongst the frigid tundras and snowy forests of snezhnaya in the aftermath of his father’s death, crown prince diluc ragnvindr finally makes the journey home with a life-threatening injury—and an unanticipated companion.

standing still by @lou-struck

pairing: wakatoshi ushijima x reader

mentions: breakup angst

summary: you have been together for years, but it doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

a persistent lack of follow through by CooPigeonCoo (ao3)

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

mentions: exes, breaking up & making up, angst with a happy ending, personal growth, drinking, sexual content, child abuse, humor, pining, natural disasters, serious injuries, domestic fluff

summary: shouto had learned a lot from his father; how to take a hit, how to pull himself back up, and how to hold a grudge.

but one thing endeavor could never teach his children was how to be a good partner.

shouto had to learn that particular skill the hard way.

-----

he had spent long, sleepless nights reflecting on the things you had told him; the reasons you left. every moment of your acquaintance was turned over repeatedly in his head and examined until one devastating conclusion was reached:

"i was a bad boyfriend," shouto muttered dejectedly, idly picking at the label of the shochu bottle in the middle of the table.

----- a story where shouto loves, loses, and learns.

the night train by @pikatsum (tumblr) / Undercover_Royalty (ao3)

pairing: midoriya izuku x reader

mentions: SFW, some angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader

summary: “what, did we both get dumped, tonight?” you ask, ever tactless in the face of silence.

through the sniffles, the hooded man gives a little jolt that might have been a laugh. it’s a start, at least.

when the night calls by @sipsteainanxiety

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

mentions: char death (bkg) but not reaaalllyyy, aged up chars (25+), supernatural elements in a pro-hero au, grief/mourning, horror-esque but it's romantic i promise, hurt/comfort

summary: you thought katsuki was gone—that he had abandoned you in this life to move on to the next. you saw his body—lifeless, cold, still. saw him get lowered into the ground in his dark casket enveloped in his hero colors. you stayed, for hours after the funeral, at his grave.

you thought he was dead. that he'd left you alone.

you were wrong.