#anyways um idk where i was going with this but uhhhh eldritch horror bkg ig

[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.