Katsuki Bakugou Ao3 fics

Crashing Home at Christmas by ; CallMeKC

Summary:

Katsuki Bakugou, world-famous chef, decides to get into the Christmas spirit this year. Every previous Christmas for the last five years has been taut with grief and sadness and no family joy! So he goes home this Christmas, for the first time in five years.

But he never anticipated how much things have changed. And with his childhood crush renting his old room, is romance on the horizon this Christmas? Or will all this merriment prove to be short lived under the feet of his career executives?

Find out, this Christmas, with Crashing Home at Christmas.

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INSPIRED BY HALLMARK.

Turns out, Hallmark movies are a lot of work. I tried to fit a lot of the elements into one, going home for Christmas, family reuniting, big city/small town, and a famous romance trope.

Oh and that random character that ends up being Santa.

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Katsuki remembers the small-town houses being bigger, but riding into the residential zone of his family town betrays that. The homes squat into the ground, none bearing more than two, visible stories. Each home is of snow-paved garages and walkways, icicles dangling below the roofing, and the fences glistening with snow.

Home returns with each turning taxi wheel, driving closer and closer to disaster. Snippets of his old life stream through the cold window: the street he took to get to school, the frozen lake he and his friends would mess around on, and the houses of kids he used to go to.

‘Home for the holidays?’ The taxi driver asks.

Katsuki looks at him, but even though he no longer faces the houses he remembers how long it takes to get home from this point.

‘None of your business,’ says Katsuki.

He pops the passenger door open as it halts to a stop, sparing one last glance at the driver. Scruffy white beard and pink cheeks. Only after poking the Santa hat accessory dangling from the front view mirror, he brings his luggage out the back seat.

And there it is, in all its glory, his Christmas-decorated home. The walkway is devoid of snow and it appears a diminished version of itself despite its well maintenance. He turns to look for the taxi car but it’s already gone.

So there’s no going back.

He gets to the roofed porch. The oak door has a side of foggy glass, where his folk tried to make the rustic house look more modern. He thinks he had loved it as much as they did back then, but now it’s an awkward mash.

He rings the doorbell. In the time it takes, he hopes they’re not home. That he can call up another taxi, then drive up to his comfortable New York condo and forget about this. He doesn’t want to see his parents or anyone in this cursed town.