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kaitwrites · 2 years

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To Shape a Home (3)

Summer- Chapter 3

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Bakugo x fem!reader

Warnings: panic attacks, Katsu being an asshole (surprise surprise)

WC: 3.1k

a/n: Welcome to Chapter 3 where you finally say “enough is enough!” Fun fact, the banner for this chapter is a screenshot from my actual game play. If you squint, you can see me and @katsukikitten sitting on bench being all cute together hdbdbdbdb. Anywhoo ENJOY!

Toshi's is usually pretty busy on the weekend but this is madness. Katsuki is convinced Eiji invited the entire town tonight. He huffs, who would enjoy something like this? The small talk and constant introductions.

Hi, nice to meet you. Tsk, fuck off. Who likes that shit?

You probably do. You’re probably used to it, with all the city parties you go to. Katsuki preps a bun for the burger he’s sizzling on the grill in front of him. His eyes flick to the clock above the kitchen door. 6:54. It’s almost time.

The boss was happy to give Katsuki the rest of the day off. To no one’s surprise, he’d liked you too. Though to be fair, Toshinori didn’t dislike anyone. He was kind and friendly, the glue that kept the town together, which made perfect sense for his bar to be the center of any social gathering.

A sweeping cheer erupts from the tiny window Katsuki uses to peek into the dining area. You’ve just arrived—early of fucking course—carted into the bar by Hizashi who proudly pronounces you as the guest of honor. It’s the first time Katsuki really takes the time to observe you.

You definitely look different from the first time he saw you standing in your doorway. You don’t even look the same as you did the brief moments he saw you in town before he quickly headed in the opposite direction.

Your hair and clothes are different, more suited for the environment you currently live in and yeah he’ll admit, you don’t look bad. You’re casual, wearing a thin white shirt and oversized overalls that still find a way to cinch in at your waist. Your hair is tamed now, in two braids on either side of your head and covered with a bandana that fails to capture wavy little tendrils that stick to your forehead.

The most obvious change is the tiny smirk on your lips as Hizashi gestures to you and nudges you into the center of the crowd for everyone to see. You seem more comfortable, though still timid and withdrawn as people smile and introduce themselves to you. The only thing Katsuki notices is the same about you is that unfamiliar thing behind your eyes.

He hasn’t been able to figure out what it is. When he talked to Eiji, he thought it might’ve just been grief, but that’s obvious in the way you shrink and wince anytime someone mentions your grandfather or offers a quick condolence. No, this is something different, it’s like a barrier, something you’re hiding.

Katsuki clears his throat and removes the almost burnt burger from the grill. From the dining room he hears Eiji’s voice. “Glad you could make it, Darlin’!” He quickly glances back through the window to see you almost skip over to him.

He swallows a lump in his throat. It’s no wonder Eiji can’t stop talking about you. You’re flirting up a storm. Of course he’d fall for you when you’re makin’ goo goo eyes at him like that.

Katsuki turns away again, finishing the burger and ringing the bell for the waitress. He sees the tips of her blue hair in the window as she thanks him. He grunts, “No problem,” before he shuts down the grill and goes to empty the fryers. He tries to tune out the voices of Denki and Hanta clearly trying to impress you as they speak over the country music and the chatter of the crowd.

“So, how you likin’ the book Sugar? It’s good right? Told ya you’d like it!” Denki flirts.

“I was able to get in contact with an old friend of mine who’ll be selling a cow in a couple of months when she’s a bit older. I’d be happy to go with ya to see her,” Hanta mentions.

Idjits all of 'em. Pussy whipped idjits. He rolls his eyes as he finishes shutting down the kitchen. When he can no longer find anything to do, he unties the apron from his waist, hangs it up on the hook, takes a deep breath and blows it out of his nostrils.

If he makes an appearance, if Eiji can see that he’s there and chat with someone on the outskirts of the crowd, maybe he can get away with being constantly bothered and guilt tripped into talking to you by him.

He steps out into the dining area, a classic rock song is playing on the radio, one that twangs the guitar the way he likes. He focuses on it, tapping his boot as he grabs a water bottle and leans against a wall, surveying the scene. You’re surrounded by the idjits, laughing and joking and he’ll admit, it looks like a decent time. However, he’s ok observing from a distance.

He can’t really hear what’s going on but he’s gotten pretty good at reading lips from the times he used to fall asleep in front of the muted TV. It seems like a bunch of harmless small talk.

You keep mentioning some book, probably the one Denki mentioned earlier and everyone in the group laughs when Denki very clearly tries to make a pass at you and you politely —of fucking course you do it politely—turn him down.

It goes on that way for a while and Katsuki is actually starting to enjoy himself. He keeps an eye on you out of the corner of his eye, hoping that you won’t make your way over to him, but you seem to be in your own little world and it doesn’t involve him.

When he finally leaves his safe spot on the wall to go and grab another water bottle, he hears the tail end of a conversation you’re having with Willy, one of the town’s fishermen that Katsuki occasionally buys bait from.

“So I heard you’re quite the fisher young lady,” he inquires.

It catches Katsuki’s attention. You like to fish? He didn't know that. Wouldn’t you fuckin’ know it, another thing you both unfortunately have in common. He strains his ear to hear your reply.

“Oh uhh yeah. Though it’s been a while since I’ve been,” you stammer nervously. Why do you sound nervous? Is fishing something you’re self conscious about? Dumb, what’s there to be self concious about?

“Oh yeah! Yer grandpa used ta take ya a lot right? I remember Mr. Aizawa said somethin’ about yer grandpa findin’ the perfect spot and only sharin’ it with you!” Eiji replies.

There’s somethin’ wrong when you reply, your voice quivers and it sounds like your words are caught in your throat. It takes everything in Katsuki not to turn and look directly at you. What’s yer deal? It’s just fishin’.

“Y...yeah. A while ago… back… umm...back when I was a kid. But I...umm...don’t know that I remember it now. I’m sorry,” you reply with tense nervous energy. All the comfort you had before vanishes and the atmosphere immediately feels awkward.

“Hey young Katsuki! I’ve been lookin’ fer ya!” A huge hand claps on his shoulder and distracts his eavesdropping.

Toshinori shakes him warmly and smiles big. Katsuki can already tell by how much he beams he has some news he’s not going to enjoy.

“S’goin’ on Boss?” he grunts, twisting the cap off the water bottle and taking a sip. Toshi’s smile drops a bit and he chuckles nervously before he replies.

“Sorry to take you away from the party, but I was hopin’ I could talk to you outside for a second?” he asks, slapping his hands together in an apologetic bow.

This can’t be good. Is he about to be fired? He doesn’t necessarily need the job to survive, he’s got savings but it’s emergency money. He swallows, then mutters a deep, “Yeah sure,” before he follows Toshinori outside of the bar near the garbage cans. He sneaks one more glance at you over his shoulder before he leaves.

Crickets chirp in the night air and the music and chatter from the party become a faint buzz in the background. Katsuki readies himself as he turns toward his boss. He can take it. If he is fired, he will figure something out. He always does.

“A couple of the Joja Mart investors came by my house earlier inquiring about buying out the bar,” Toshinori starts. Katsuki lets out a stifled breath of relief. Then he stares and folds his arms over his chest.

“Did ya tell em to fuck off?” he growls. Toshi winces at the intensity but continues to smile nervously.

“Well not in those words but yes. For now, we’re still doing alright enough not to sell but young Katsuki, it’s not looking good fer the other shops in town. Sooner or later there won’t be enough money comin’ in for them all to stay afloat,” he explains.

Fucking Joja Mart. It’s been nothin’ but a ghost town since they moved in and built a little store in town. They rob money from all the farmers in the area who sell their products in the general store.

Already a few local stores have gone out of business because it’s “easier to get all your products at Joja!” Katsuki spits in disgust, just another reason to hate big ass corporations. They should’ve just stayed in the goddamn city!

“That's bullshit, Boss! The people in this town love this place. It’s where they all come together to act like idjits and get drunk and shit. You don’t got anything to worry about,” he interjects, throwing his hands in the air.

Toshi puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Katsuki can feel his blood boiling, feel himself getting riled up.

“I’m just trying to be realistic. You should too. If this place gets bought you’re out of a job. Your crops are good, perfect even, but if you don’t think about at least selling some to the bigger corpor-”

“Fuck no. I’m not growin’ the shit for people I don’t even know. I’ll sell my shit at the market like everyone else here. You don’t gotta worry about my funds. I got this,” he growls.

His words are biting, too harsh for Toshi's gentle voice. Katsuki’s not angry with him, he should calm down, but thinking about seeing his crops sitting on a shelf next to rotten fruit blinds him with rage.

Toshi sighs, then he steps closer and Katsuki can tell he’s no longer speaking as his boss. He wears that same expression Eijirou does. The one Katsuki hates. Pity, like he’s an injured dog.

“You know you can ask me for help, right? I wouldn’t leave you hanging. If you need anything or feel the urges again you can—”

“I’m fine. I don’t need anybody's help,” he retorts.

Everyone in town knows about Katsuki’s past and Toshi helped him out with a job. He respects him but the pity in his tone, the slight tinge of shame Katsuki feels when he speaks to him like this is too much.

He knows he means well, and he should be able to express that, but instead it always comes out harsher than he wants. He grinds his teeth in frustration as Toshi pats his shoulder sadly and returns to the party.

Katsuki stands near the empty trash cans, fists clenched tightly as he reviews the conversation. Fuck Joja Mart, Fuck the city, Fuck AA, and Fuck… her. He wants to shout or kick something but he refrains and instead shoves his hands into his pocket, pulls out a carton of cigarettes and flips it open.

He’s not usually a smoker but sometimes it kicks the urge of wanting a drink when he’s this worked up. He pulls one out of the box and balances it between his lips as he pats himself down for a lighter.

Right as he’s cursing to himself in frustration for not bringing a lighter, he hears footsteps approaching him. He looks up and as if things couldn’t get any worse, he’s met with your face, panicked as you take deep breaths in and out. You don’t seem to notice him and if he weren’t in an already pissy mood, he’d ask if you were ok.

Instead he groans loudly with the cigarette still between his lips, “Oh for fucks sake. Why are you followin’ me around?”

You don’t notice him at first still breathing heavily and trying to calm yourself. But when you gaze up at him, he’s surprised to see the way your eyes are red and wet but angry and fierce.

“You think because I stepped outside of the bar I’m following you? Man you must be tired all the time to be carrying that huge ego all over the place,” you say in a voice that is almost completely unrecognizable. You sound mean, bitchy, snarky and if Katsuki weren’t riding the high of his anger right now, he’d be a little impressed.

“What the fuck did you say to me?” he asks, stepping closer to you and growling again. He expects you to step back like you did the first time but you step toward him too, your tiny fists clenched at your sides.

He watches your eyes flick to his face, you look like you’re telling yourself to calm down but the second your eyes fall on the cigarette, he witnesses the rage rush back onto your face.

“That shit will kill you ya know?” The statement sounds like it would be helpful but the way you spew it at him, with disgust and contempt, he’s thrown off and it momentarily makes his mind go blank.

He almost feels bad, like a scolding from you is something worse than a scolding from Eiji. Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck does he care what you think of him?

“Mind your own fucking business.” He turns away then.

He’s apparently gotten you started though. You’re like a completely different person. As he turns away and walks back toward the side door, you take another step toward him.

“It makes it harder to breathe, turns your lungs black, turns your teeth yellow and your gums black, puts you more at risk for lung cancer, and it fucking stinks,” you spit. You say the last word in exaggerated disgust.

He feels as disgusting as you make it sound and for a second he contemplates throwing the cigarette away immediately. The sight of it has definitely set you off, you’re pissed, more pissed than he’s seen you and he doesn’t understand why he’s more drawn to you now than he’s ever been. Regardless, he still matches your intensity.

“Shut your goddamn mouth. You don’t know anything about me,” he bites back, turning his back to you again.

“I don’t need to. You’ve given me enough information with your piss poor attitude and disgusting manners. You’re just a miserable lonely man who runs a farm and pushes people away because you’re afraid of commitment! That or you know you’re too much of an asshole to have any real friends.”

That makes him stop cold. He stiffens in place, the biting cold vicisiousess of your words creeping up his spine. Miserable? Lonely? Who the fuck are you to tell him he’s miserable and lonely? He’s not either. This is his home, not yours. He belongs here, not you. And you have the fucking nerve to tell him he’s too much of an asshole to have any friends?

Fine, two can play at this game.

He spins around and stomps back toward you. Your usual lovely face is twisted in rage, your lips poke out, your tongue flicks out quickly to wet your top lip. Your eyes are squinted but your irises are framed by your long lashes. Your teeth are clenched and your jaw is set. Katsuki leans over you, using his height as a way to intimidate you and make you feel small.

“That’s better than bein’ a stupid city girl bimbo trying to prove that you’re ‘one with nature’ or that you’re deeper than all of the other city bitches who look down on country folk. Think yer better than me ‘cause you know how to hail a taxi or ‘cause you lived in a fuckin’ skyscraper? You’re a fuckin’ poser.You don’t belong here. You don’t know shit about hard work, yer a coward and the second all of this becomes too hard for you, you’ll pack up your shit and flee back to the city with your tail between your legs.”

When he finishes, he looks you up and down again, studies your clothes all the way down to your feet then back up to your face where your expression has changed drastically. You’re hurt, and Katsuki wants to say good you deserve it but he can’t bring himself to. He takes half a step back when he sees your eyes become glossy.

“Go to hell,” you say in a low defeated voice. You shrink away from him and he knows he’s won.

“Ladies first, sweetheart,” he quickly retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

You spin around so fast, the ends of your braids almost slap him across the cheek. He steps back and watches you stomp to your truck. He almost misses the way you angrily swipe away one tear flowing down your cheek. The pit in his stomach becomes abysmal when he sees it. It almost makes him sick. He should apologize.

The slamming door of your red truck rustles so much, the little Bob Ross figure hanging from your mirror falls. You’re seething now, the windows in your truck are already rolled down so Katsuki can hear you fumbling angrily with the keys and grinding your teeth together. He should apologize. There’s still time to fix this. Just apologize.

“Don’t leave your gross butts on the ground either shithead. It’ll fuck with the dirt. But I’m sure you already know that and don’t give a shit,” you spit at him as you pull the lever to switch the gears and drive away.

Apologize.

“Fuck you, city trash.”

Your screeching tires on the pavement of the parking lot are deafening, Katsuki barely hears Eijirou shuffling out of the door and waving his arms for you to stop. He does see your middle finger and the way you glare daggers at him right before you pull off.

Your face stays branded in his memory but he doesn’t have any time to think about it further before Eiji is in his face, angrily asking him what he did to you.

“What the hell didja do to her?” he exclaims angrily.

“I ain’t do nothin’!” Katsuki pushes past him in a huff, now heading toward his own car to leave. Before he goes, he flicks the unlit cigarette in the trash, then turns on his truck and disappears in the night, leaving Eiji standing in front of the bar in confusion.

—

Thanks for reading!

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kaitwrites · 2 years

Text

To Shape a Home (2)

Summer- Chapter 2

Previous Chapter| Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bakugo x fem!reader

Warnings: Eijirou Kirishima being the actual man of your dreams and you being a fucking idiot, it's ok it gets better I promise

WC: 4.05K

A/n: Hello Welcome to Chapter 2 a day early thanks to my shitty Wifi. In this chapter you will see my aching love for Eiji in this and I'm so sorry because yes, you (the person reading this) will fall in love with him in this chapter adbjbcdjbscb. It's what he deserves so just humor me ok? sdgjhcvdsgjh Anywhoo I hope you enjoy as always.

The billowing vapors from the mug of coffee you hold in your hands has become a pleasant morning routine you’re fond of. The past few weeks you’ve stood on your porch, watching the sun come up over the tiny hills beyond your property. It’s a sight you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. It’s nothing like watching the sunrise through a crowded train window.

You flex your toes in the lightweight slippers you bought from the cute little boutique in town. It’s been nice visiting and getting to know some of the townsfolk. They’ve all been extremely welcoming and pleasant, offering you condolences and help if you needed it. One guy was even kind enough to offer to come by and help you mend the holes in the roof and take a look at the barn for you.

Eijirou Kirishima, the perfect gentleman.

He’d apologized on behalf of his friend. His bright smile and the way he instantly made you feel welcomed the day he came by to introduce himself was a delightful experience and you decided to recognize that as your first instead of the one with the unfortunate asshole.

Apparently, the asshole had a name, Katsuki Bakugo, and surprise surprise, the assholeness was embedded in his personality due to “past experiences” and tended to make a showing anytime he opened his mouth. At least, according to Eijirou. You haven’t seen the Asshole for about a month now, so you take it as a good sign. Maybe that was the peak of your bad experiences here.

You shuffle down the driveway to your mailbox. You’re not expecting any letters from old friends but it always feels nice to check for any outstanding mail being sent to your grandparents. Inside, there’s nothing but a crumpled flier. It’s a crudely printed advertisement for Joja Mart.

Wow, Joja Mart is stationed all the way out here in the boonies?

You’re familiar with the large company, there was a store on almost every block in the city, so it’s surprising to see that they want to expand so far into the country. You flip the page over; in big red letters it informs you of a “gigantic sale you won’t want to miss!” For some reason, it rubs you the wrong way, it looks so foreign, like it doesn’t belong out here next to the handmade flyers about a student needing a math tutor.

You fold it and head back toward the house, trying to ignore the weird feeling it left in your gut. As you head back up the stairs of your porch, you hear the unmistakable sound of nails scratching dirt and wood. It’s close too, like right under your porch, close.

You’ve heard it before since moving and figured it might be rats or squirrels in the attic. Should you leave it be? If it’s an animal, it could be dangerous. Maybe it could have rabies or something. Should you wait until Eijirou gets here and ask him for help?

No. You’re not some silly damsel in distress. If you’re going to live out here, you have to get your hands dirty. You go back inside, grab a flashlight, and slip on some high boots. Your night gown flows behind you like a cape when you walk and clings to your body like tape when you approach the opening on the side of the porch and lean down to look into the darkness.

To still your trembling breath, you inhale and hum your calm song to yourself. The beam of your flashlight doesn’t uncover any creatures but you can still hear scratching and—is that, whining? Slowly you crouch and enter the dark undercarriage of your porch. Something’s under here and it sounds afraid, maybe it’s even hurt. That thought drives you forward without hesitation. You drop to your hands and knees and crawl further in.

Insects and spiders crawl over your fingers and twice you sneeze and break through cobwebs hanging from the rafters. The scratching is getting closer and you’re surprised that you don’t feel frightened. It’s like you’re a kid again, adventurous, risk-taking, courageous. You shine the light in the direction you heard the scratching and when you see the shadow of something crouching in front of you, you almost scream.

“Hey uhh, you alright under there?”

A random voice behind you scares the crap out of you and you do scream. The creature crouching in front of you whimpers. You’re able to make out the shape when you shine the flashlight and find two huge brown eyes staring at you. It’s a dog, thin, shivering and whimpering like it’s afraid you’re going to hurt it. You gasp and let out a little “aw” when you see it.

“Hello? Anybody here?” the voice speaks again. This time you recognize it and turn around to speak to him.

“Hi Mr.Kirishima! Sorry I’m coming right out,” you yell back to him then whisper to the shivering dog in front of you. “Don’t worry bud I’m not gonna leave you here. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Crawling out of the space beneath your porch you meet Eijirou's eyes and suddenly you’re very aware of how you look. Is everyone in this damn town attractive? Not likely because if they were you probably wouldn’t have stayed away as long as you had. But still, he’s the second stupidly gorgeous man you’ve come across—even though the first was an asshole— so maybe you should count yourself lucky. You realize you’re staring—like an idiot—and quickly try to wipe the dirt and mud from your gown.

“Hi. Sorry, I’m a mess I-”

“Haha you look fine! Us country folk love seeing a pretty woman dusted with dirt,” he drawls. He beams at you and you tuck your chin close to your body and shy away from him. “So what’s goin’ on here?”

“Oh!” you say, remembering the dog. You lead him back inside your home. “There’s a stray dog under my porch. I need to get him out of there.”

He pauses in the parlor when you slip out of your boots and start for the kitchen. “A stray dog? Is it rabid? Want me to take care of it for ya, Darlin’?”

The way he says that makes a tingle run up your spine and you bite your lip. Darlin’? That’s strangely intimate. He’s probably just being polite, so you need to calm down. You turn to try and tell him that you think the dog is harmless but you're left speechless when you see him standing there.

He has to duck his head to step into your home and when he’s in, he fills the space in the parlor with a protective stability you didn’t know you craved until right now. Out of the morning sun you can see the tan lines of the tank top and what you assume are the overalls he wears on the daily. His hair dusted chest, the way he’s already glistening with sweat, and the dimples on display when he laughs makes you feel like you’re in high school again with a silly little crush.

“N...No no. I think he’s harmless, maybe a little afraid. I’m just gonna grab some food and maybe a bowl of water to try and coax him out,” you stammer.

He beams again, “Ok I can help ya!”

In addition to being extremely handsome, Eijirou proves himself to be the most gentle and kindest man you’ve met. It takes a while for the dog to be coaxed out of its hiding spot but he stays with you the entire time. You barely speak to him as you crouch on your knees at the entrance of the crawl space with your hand outstretched. The dog has your complete attention and as he inches closer and nibbles the pieces of meat you left out for him, you can’t help but feel strangely attached to it.

“It’s alright buddy. There’s no rush, you take your time,” you say in a soft whisper. You coo at him, keeping your voice sweet and patient, assuring the canine he’s ok and safe.

“Hope you like the sausage. I’m a huge fan of it myself. My grandpa used to make it with French fries when I was younger,” you continue.

It’s so easy for you to talk to him, almost like you’re having a conversation with an old friend. Yes, it’s a little awkward that you can talk to a dog like this but be nervous and blushing like an idiot when talking to Eijirou, but the dog wasn’t calling you sweet names like “Darlin’”.

When he’s finally out from beneath the porch, you’re able to inspect him in the morning sun. He’s a sandy shade of brown, with black spots littered over his body. He doesn’t look like a specific breed so you assume he’s a mutt. His ears flop down with a little chunk of it missing, there’s some kind of rash on his front paw and he’s covered in dirt. Your favorite thing about him are his large brown eyes. It’s like they have no secrets.

As he laps at the water in the dish next to you, you reach a hand out. Eijirou intakes a sharp breath behind you. He reaches out to you then pulls back as if stopping himself from a knee-jerk reaction.

“Careful, he may seem sweet but he can still nip ya, ” he warns.

You stare at the dog, who’s stopped drinking water and is now staring at you as if contemplating whether he can trust you. There’s something you can’t put your finger on but for some reason you feel like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

So you take a deep breath and say “I feel like you understand me more than I give you credit for so I’m gonna try something. Will you trust me?”

You raise an eyebrow as you ask and when he licks his chops and continues sitting, you slowly reach a hand out to him. It’s a good sign when he points his wet nose toward you and sniffs your fingertips. He licks it and you squeal in amusement, but before you completely let your guard down you flip your hand over to expose your palm to him. He rises and moves closer to you, bumping his head against your palm.

You gently pet his head, smiling and praising him. “That’s a good boy. That was very brave of you,” you say as his tail starts to wag. Soon the dog is plopped down in your lap as you rub his dirty fur. His tail’s wagging and his tongue drops out of his mouth.

“You’re pretty good with animals, huh?” Eijirou says softening his gaze. God, why does everything he says to you make you blush like an idiot?

“Not really. I just think we both needed a friend,” you say shrugging, trying to be nonchalant.

“Nah, animals know good souls and I think this lil guy knows you’ve got a good one,” he replies, moving closer to you. He had to have gone to a school for charming the panties off women because your heart is beating too fast for you to form a sentence that wouldn’t let him know you’re internally swooning.

Eijirou might be one of the nicest men you’ve ever met in your life. He helps you bathe the dog in your deep bathtub, holds him down when he starts to shake and gets mud all over the walls of the bathroom, and even wraps the rash on his paw. You don’t know why it makes you feel weird when you think about how nice he is to you but it makes you all jittery. He’s nice to be around, a comfort even, but when you think of him being anything more to you, you pull back.

When all is done and the dog is dry and eating more food in the kitchen, Eijirou stretches his arms up above his head. You grab his arm, blushing again as you watch his muscles flex when he stretches.

“Thank you, for all your help today Mr. Kirishima,” you say with bashful flirtation. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to what you actually came over for.”

“Ya know you can call me Eijirou and don’t worry Darlin’. Helpin’ out a pretty lady is always a good time in my book. Plus, I can always come back if you want me to!” he chirps with a huge grin.

You lick your lips quickly and look up at him through your lashes. “Eijirou, I’d like that,” you say then quickly backtrack because it sounds like you’re flirting way too hard and you’re not even sure flirting is what you want to do right now.

“I mean, that’s very kind of you!” you sputter.

You both laugh—thankfully—and it feels like a laugh between two old friends. “So you gonna keep him?” He tilts his head toward the dog.

“Yeah, I think so. He doesn’t have a collar so, I don’t think anyone’s looking for him,” you say watching the dog curiously sniff around the kitchen.

“I think I’ve seen him roamin’ around the town for months. None of us know when he got here but he’s always followin’ people around and the kids in town sometimes play with him,” Eijirou explains.

You hear claws clacking on the wooden floors as the dog pads up next to you and sits wagging his tail and watching Eijirou, like he already knows this is his home.

“So we’re the same, huh bud? Drifters from out of town looking for a home. Think this is a sign?” you say, patting his head. The dog only pants happily and wags his tail.

It’s late afternoon and the sun is about to set, which means Eijirou is reluctantly informing you that he has to head out. You have one very stupid fleeting thought to offer for him to stay the night before that too makes your stomach tighten and you shut it down. Before he leaves, he stops and turns to look at you.

“Hey uhh…I was wonderin’...” he starts.

Is he about to ask you out? Are you ready for him to ask you out? You have been flirting but there’s still that thing inside you, something that tells you you shouldn’t date, at least not right now. You swallow loudly and Eijirou’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh! Oh I'm not makin’ a move on you I swear!” he states, putting his hands up and shaking them while he blushes. You breathe out a relieved sigh and giggle.

“I just wondered if you wanted to go to Toshi’s Saloon with a coupla friends. It’s a nice way to get to know everyone in town. Plus, I think a lot of people would like to meet a sweet gal like yerself,” he explains it all in a rush of words and again you smile. He really is a good person.

You grasp his hand and he stops talking while watching you bat your lashes. “I’d love to,” you say simply.

Then he smirks, holds your hand and kisses the knuckle before he says “It’s gonna be a great time! I’ll let everyone know. Make sure you give your new friend a name!” He bounds down the steps of your porch and marches happily to his truck. When he drives off, you close the door and lean against it.

For once you’re content. Things are going well and looking up. If you avoid that one guy who seems to hate you for no reason, maybe this won’t be as bad. Maybe soon the pain will go away and it’ll be replaced with Eijirou’s friendship or the love of your new pet. The asshole’s words flitter into your mind and you desperately try not to let them linger.

You’ll be gone in a month.

What does he know? You shake your head, refusing to give it any other thought. You walk over to your new friend who’s staring at you, panting with a big open mouthed grin on his face. Bending down to look him in the eyes, you scratch between his ears.

“I think I’ll call you French Fry.”

Katsuki doesn’t fucking get it. How is it possible to run into someone he’s trying to avoid at every possible moment? You’re everywhere and it’s unbearable. The town’s not that small, there’s no way you both have to run the same errands at the same time and yet…

He saunters into the library, three books tucked under his arm ready to return to the book cart. He stops in his tracks when he hears an unfamiliar giggle and instantly he knows it’s you. At the desk in the middle of the library, you’re there with Denki leaning on the countertop as he points to an open book and winks at you.

“You’ll really like Dorothy, Sugar. She’s got a lot of the same feelings goin’ on that you do. Not to mention, she’s a pretty little thing like yerself,” Denki drawls with a charming smirk.

Katsuki watches you put your hand to your lips and giggle again. You’re being cheeky, are you flirting back? Doesn’t matter, he needs to get out of here. Spinning around on his heel he makes for the quick drop off, shoves the books in and exits quickly.

It’s like that the entire week. You’re at Eiji’s carpenter shop discussing blueprints for your barn when he comes in to purchase more nails. You’re at Hanta’s feed shop inquiring about obtaining a cow and buying a bunch of shit that looks like it’s for a dog. He didn’t even know you had a dog.

Fuck, you move quick. How’d you become friends with every single person he talks to the most in this town? They are all suckers for a pretty face, but damn you’ve got your hooks in them deep, especially Eiji. He’s always bringing you up in conversation, then stopping and changing the subject when he sees the look on Katsuki’s face.

He’s not gonna fall for your shit. Staying away from you is his best bet. He's doing well, keeping to himself, taking care of his farm. He doesn’t need to be around everyone all the time. Hell, he didn’t talk to anyone but Eiji the first three months after she left. If he can keep it up once you finally decide to get the fuck out of here, everything will go back to normal.

“Hey so ya comin’ tonight?” Eiji asks, one day while helping him in the garden. He struggles with one of the weeds near the roots of a cucumber plant. Katsuki leans over to toss him shears before he raises an eyebrow.

“Hah?” Katsuki carefully pulls a weed out of the ground and pulls a cucumber from the vine. He inspects it carefully, looking for any dents or imperfections. When he finds none, he tosses it into the basket next to him.

Eiji pokes his tongue out of his mouth while concentrating on snipping the weeds properly. He doesn’t look up when he replies casually, “To Toshi’s.”

Katsuki huffs, why is he asking a dumb question like this. Why wouldn’t he go? And why does he sound like he’s trying way too hard to be casual about it. “Of fucking course I am. Why wouldn’t I?” he responds nonchalantly.

His answer breaks through the forced casual tone Eijirou tries to keep “Wait really? I didn’t expect that.”

Something is definitely up. Eiji’s not usually this dense. “Moron, I’ve never not shown up for work.” Katsuki stops and scrutinizes his face. He looks nervous and scratches behind his head sheepishly.

“Oh. Did Denki not...dammit. Shoulda just told you myself.”

A vein pulses in Katsuki’s neck and his shoulder tense. A sharp pain shoots through his shoulder and he hisses to himself and tries to ignore it. Told him what? Again he thinks of her and his heart races. He clenches his hands into fists in the dirt as small pebbles and mud wedge under his fingernails. Eiji wouldn’t forget to tell him if she was coming back and he damn sure wouldn’t leave it to Denki to tell him.

“What?” he growls and he doesn’t mean to. He tries to keep calm but the thought of her being at Toshi’s while he’s there working makes his blood boil.

Eiji winces and then in a small voice explains, “Well, I invited Minnie out to Toshi's tonight to get to know everyone. Like a welcome party.”

Katsuki doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he releases it through his nostrils in relief. Then he blinks and searches through his mind. He curls his lip and frowns. “Minnie? Who the fuck is—”

“The woman you’ve decided to hate for no reason.” Eiji interrupts in a stern tone.

Oh, it’s you. He should’ve known. Who else would Eiji have been talking about? You’re his new obsession it seems. Katsuki wonders what you said to him. How’d you get to be so unavoidable?

“Thought her name was… something else,” he mutters, looking away and reaching for another cucumber.

“You don’t even know her name yet? She’s been here over a month now!” Eiji exclaims. He’s tossed aside the shears now as he crouches in the dirt.

Shit, it’s already been a month? He hadn’t even noticed. It’s been a month and you seem to be thriving and providing no hints of leaving anytime soon.

“I told you I'm keepin’ my distance,” he grumbles.

“Your loss, man. She’s actually really cool and nice. Everyone really seems to like her,” Eijirou shrugs, stands, and dusts off his jeans.

“Everyone? Great, all of ya are gonna be so let down when she packs up and leaves without saying goodbye,” he pouts, grits his teeth while picking up the basket of cucumbers and shoving it into Eijirou’s arms. He starts back toward the house, wiping the sweat from his brow as he shakes his head in disappointment.

“She’s not Camie.”

Katsuki stops in his tracks and winces at the sound of her name. He hasn’t said it since she left, and has forbidden all of his friends from saying her name. With her name comes the stinging pain and regret, the tingling in his palm and fingers to be wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle, his clouded view when he read her goodbye note on the dining room table.

He spins around and stomps back toward Eijirou, a finger jamming violently into his chest as he snarls at him.

“Don’t fucking say her name again,” he seethes.

Katsuki watches Eijirou give him that stupid fucking pitiful frown again and it almost makes him sick. He whirls away from him stomping back toward his house. He’s winding thread around an unfinished fishing lure when he hears Eijirou enter the house. There’s a large apologetic sigh and then Eiji’s large hand is on his shoulder.

“Look man, just… come. Come to the party. I know you’re gonna be workin, but maybe the boss will let you off a little early. You’ll have a good time. It’ll give you a chance to meet her the right way.” He speaks softly, like he’s talking to a child and Katsuki knows he doesn’t mean to, it’s just how he’s always been. He holds the bridge of his nose with his two fingers contemplating the request.

Eiji has a point, if you aren’t as bad as he’s thinking, it’ll make shit easier for him. But if you are….

“I’ll think about it,” he settles, blowing out a defeated breath.

“There won’t be a bunch of booze.”

“I said I'll think about it, Ei.”

Eiji sighs again. He’s still holding the basket of cucumbers Katsuki shoved in his arms. “How much do I owe ya?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. Nothin’. You’re the only reason I grow the damn things in the first place,” Katsuki mutters. Eijirou chuckles and thanks him before turning to leave the house.

When Katsuki doesn’t hear the door close, he turns to see Eiji flashing him a wink.

“7PM. I’ll let Toshi know so he’ll let you off early.”

He growls as Eiji quickly shuts the door and dashes to his truck.

Thanks for reading!

taglist: @bakugotrashpanda , @dienamights , @planets-bookshelf , @pureofheartaudio , @unlogical-ella , @b-matcha @senaraphoenix , @charlotteplsdosth , @ventini , @abadbitchthatcantbekilled , @axhpax , @koubul @keishinsuke , @savorthesalt , @dabilove27 , @sageyrage , @thatpeachybandgirl @indigoraen , @vxnusinlove , @kaitsawamura @chickenandlimesoup , @dynamightyriot , @zombiewarprincess , @hufflefluffwh0re , @violinbetty , @distractionforyourthoughts , @miakms , @bunseren-burner @gixxie @psicotropicwanderlust

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kaitwrites · 2 years

Text

To Shape A Home (1)

Summer- Chapter 1

" Every summer has a story"

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: Talk of Grief, EraserMic, Nightmares,

WC: 6.2k

a/n: Hi hello. Ok so chapter 1 is here because I’m literally so fucking stupid and don’t know how to work Ao3 apparently. I accidentally posted a draft instead of saving it so here ya go ya get chapter one early haha. ANYWHOO this fic was a complete labor of love. I hope y’all enjoy the journey, that you fall hard for Katsu and that you can find a lil piece of yourself in reader! Please enjoy! 🥰

The bus ride is…bumpy. That’s a good word for it. No doubt the bumps are from the large tires crushing the gravel beneath them as the bus careens down the crop-bordered road. Your head knocks against the cool glass window and the soothing sounds of an acoustic guitar plays in the headphones jammed in your ears.

The note with extremely neat scrawled handwriting—he’s always had beautiful handwriting—sits tight in your grip. Your perfectly manicured fingers run over the words again trying to pull them from the page and hear them in your mind.

I leave it all, my pride and joy, to you, my little mouse.

The scenery is too green. There’s no variance of color, no flowers, just the light green leaves of random stalks of corn, and as the bus drives closer to its destination, the dark green of the trees in the forest. You suppose green is better than the dull gray of the buildings and concrete in the city. Still the green does seem particularly hopeless.

But so does everything right now. Your life, your job, your home. That’s what grief does to you. It runs cold through your veins, freezing everything you used to find warmth and comfort in.

You click the volume button on the side of your phone, trying to tune out your thoughts with the steady beats of the tambourine. It’ll be better when you see the farm. Everything always felt better when you were there.

The sun stretches across the sky, weaving a tapestry in ribbons of pink, purple,and gold. There’s a welcome committee when the bus finally pulls into the station, around sunset. Two of your grandfather’s oldest friends, Shouta Aizawa and his husband Hizashi Yamada are standing at the bus stop. Hizashi is waving frantically, while his less than enthusiastic partner blinks sleepily at you while you descend the bus steps.

“Well hey there little Minnie!” Hizashi shouts excitedly as he runs to grab you in a tight hug. You smirk a little as he squeezes you so tight you feel your back crack. Shouta frowns in disappointment.

“Hizashi, don’t call her that. Be respectful, she may not like you calling her the nickname her grand—“

Shouta is cut off by you clearing your throat loudly. “It’s ok Mr. Aizawa. I don’t mind. Besides, he only called me ‘mouse’, so it’s not technically the same,” you say smiling.

Hizashi sticks his tongue out at Shouta and he rolls his eyes. The two of them grab hold of your huge suitcases and put them in the bed of their large pick up truck. It’s not a long drive to your grandfather’s old house from the bus station but it seems prolonged as you sit squished in the middle of the couple, answering all their questions and reminiscing about when you were a kid.

“I still remember the big pigtails you used to wear! It’s why I always called you Minnie,” Hizashi says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. A half smile plays on your lips, the memory playing effortlessly in your mind.

Seven-year-old you, in colorful overalls and huge curly pigtails, barefoot and covered in whatever the woods had to offer is in stark contrast to 27-year-old you, with fancy designer clothes that probably cost more than the rusty truck you’re sitting in and sleek straightened hair you had to burn all of your curls out of.

You sigh to yourself, there’s no use beating yourself up. At least not right now, in the presence of others.

You’re grateful that neither of them have given you the “how you holding up?” line, still you’re itching to get out of the car and be alone again. You grin politely and Hizashi starts a monologue about all that you’ve missed since you’ve been away.

“It’s been how many years since you came to visit us?” he prodes.

“About 10 years,” you reply sheepishly. He repeats it in exaggerated exasperation, in turn you sigh.

“Too long,” Shouta replies in a deep voice from across the cab. It surprises you, the underlying hint of disappointment in his tone and your chest tightens before you’re asking Hizashi if he can roll the window down for some fresh air.

The night air is just as you remember, fresh and piney. It swirls around the cab, mixing the scent of salon burnt hair with the citrusy linen musk of Shouta and Hizashi. If your shortness of breath and hyperventilation starts now, you’ll only worry them, which is the last thing you want.

The moment passes as quickly as it came, and you’re squashing the bubbling energy in your belly back down and hiding it behind a stiff grin as the couple turns off of the road into the long driveway to your grandparents' old farmhouse.

The house is dark and a welcomed sight despite how old and decrepit it looks. There are a few holes in the wooden floor boards, a suspicious scattering of tiny little feet in the darkness, and dust covering every square inch of the covered furniture. It smells muggy, like mothballs and stale air and you risk inhaling the cloudy dusty air into your lungs for the lingering scent of tobacco and eucalyptus that used to surround you whenever you ran into your grandfather’s arms.

Shouta places your suitcase right next to the coat rack near the front door and you rub your arms to warm yourself in the cool night air. The fancy sheer shirt over the overly expensive bralette you’re wearing does nothing to keep out the cool country air. Despite it being the beginning of summer, the nights here are always cooler since you’re near a large lake. A chill runs up your spine as you watch a loose cobweb flow in the breeze.

Shouta notices you shivering and nods. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure the gas was turned off so there’s no heat yet, but there’s a fireplace you can light in the meantime. You’ll need some firewood, Hizashi and I can bring some by tomorrow. Should be enough to keep the house warm for two nights. On Monday, you’ll need to call to have it switched back on,” he says matter of factly.

“Thanks,” you reply as you stroll carefully through the darkness. You whip out your phone to click the flashlight on and both Hizashi and Shouta gaze at it in amusement, as if they’ve never seen a smartphone before.

“Huh, should’ve known you’d have one of those state of the art phone things. We only use landlines out here. Not a lot of signal out in the sticks,” Hizashi reports, studying it from across the room. It becomes increasingly clear how much you stand out and it only drives the festering splinter in your heart deeper.

“Oh…I’m sorry. I can put it away if it bothers you,” you say nervously. The screen lights up with a message and you roll your eyes quickly as you fumble with it to turn it off. Hizashi waves off your apology, reassuring you that he’s fine.

Another shiver shakes you but you’re not entirely sure if it’s from the cold or if it’s the crushing reality that you no longer belong here. You’re not the kid you used to be, visiting your grandfather’s farm without a care in the world and exploring all it had to offer. Now you’re a stuck up city girl, the artsy type; who wears designer clothes, knows the latest fashion, and ignores her grandfather’s calls….

“Anyway, the electricity should be working. I made sure to start up the generator before you got in. The plumbing should be working also though hot water isn’t going to be available until the gas is on but you can always boil water in the fireplace.” Hizashi explains as he flicks on a light. His voice breaks through your mind babble and you nod to acknowledge you heard him.

“Thank you both so much for all of your help today,” you say bowing to them with gratitude.

Surprisingly Shouta is the one to speak up. He sighs deeply then gives you a look that matches your grandfather’s caring expression so much, it knocks the wind from you.

“You don’t have to thank us. We promised Teddy we’d take care of you,” he says gently.

You bite back tears, you’ve become a master at holding them back the past few days. Shouta thankfully doesn’t move toward you to pat your shoulder or hug you like the others have done. He only gives you a knowing look, a quick nod and then gathers Hizashi to pull him back toward the door. Shouta has always been your favorite out of your grandfather’s friends. This is exactly why.

“Alright let’s leave her to it. She probably has a lot to unpack and it’s getting dark. We’ll need to get the girls in for the night,” Shouta complains in a gravelly annoyed tone as Hizashi resists his pulls toward the door.

“The chickens will be fiiiinnneee. I wanna sit and talk moreeee,” Hizashi whines.

When Shouta doesn’t budge and grabs his collar to pull him out the door, he quickly shouts, “We’ll be back later tomorrow to check on you! And let us know if you need anything! We’ll be happy to help!” before Shouta slams the door behind him.

It’s quiet now.

A light breeze billows through the area and makes the limbs of the big tree outside the window dance and sway. They rustle noisily against the glass, the squeaking echoing through the empty hallways. There are some loose roof panels the wind slips through to add its whistling tune to the cacophony of night noises.

The sounds only put you more at ease though. They’re exceptionally different from the bustling night life of the city. You take a deep breath and finish the tour of your castle of childhood memories. The floorboards squeak with every step you take and you’re immediately thrown back to when you and your grandfather attempted to sneak out to watch the stars without your grandmother catching you. It didn’t work; she caught you both because you couldn’t stop giggling.

You twist the stiff handle of the sink in the kitchen, thankfully Hizashi was telling the truth about the running water. Your grandparents used to have to pump all the water from the pump out back. You’re not sure when they upgraded to the town's plumbing system but you’re eternally grateful. The water runs yellow, unused and smelly before it changes slowly to a nice transparent flow and you shut it off.

Everything in the kitchen is exactly where it used to be. It’s untouched and ancient, which is quite a shame. It’s a beautiful old kitchen, all the appliances sturdy and old, but still carrying out their duties as the first day they were dragged into this place. A huge window above the sink always lets the morning sun shine through and warm the room.

You and your grandfather used to cook the fish you caught for the day in this kitchen and your grandmother would spend all day making fruit pies and lemonade. The ache however, makes its way back into your chest and you quickly shove the thought back into your mind’s vault.

It’s late, you’re beat. A long day of sitting on a bus tortured by your own thoughts is enough to make all of your limbs feel heavy. You’ll unpack and survey all the things that need to be done tomorrow. For now, you grab the small bag with your toiletries and drag yourself up the rickety stairs to the bedroom.

The grand bedroom, complete with a fireplace, a huge four post king bed and a wooden rocking chair looks exactly the way you remember it. Fragments of memories piece themselves together in the emptiness of the room.

The ghost of your grandpa rocking in the chair by the window, watching the sun rise, the fire crackling in the fireplace for the cool mornings as your grandmother stepped out of the bathroom with dripping wet hair, the pitter patter of feet as a five year old you runs into the room to hop on his lap and watch the sun as he hums the tune to Big Rock Candy Mountain. You sing along to yourself:

So come with me,

We’ll go and see

The Big Rock Candy Mountain

You don’t notice the tears flowing down your cheeks until you’re sniffing loudly and it echoes throughout the room. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Looking at your reflection in the bathroom and studying your tired red eyes, the way your hair is starting to frizz in the country air, your sheer shirt with the strap of your bralette slipping down your shoulder, you come to the conclusion. You’re a mess. Why do you do this to yourself? Because it’s what you deserve.

Exhaustion takes over, and as you finish brushing your teeth and pulling your hair into a sloppy ponytail, you shimmy out of your black skinny jeans and collapse down on the bed. Sinking into its comfort, you pull the heavy warm blanket over your legs and lie down with a relieved sigh. The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re asleep and lost in a dream bathed in green.

You’re seven again, in the woods stomping over dead leaves and detritus in big waders that stretch up your thighs. A fishing pole twice your size is tight in your little fist and swatting away bugs buzzing around your face is your own personal little game. Your grandpa is in front of you whistling his favorite tune as you both traipse through the trees. You can almost smell the natural fishy scent of the lake so you know you’re close.

“Look Mouse! There it is! The perfect fishin’ spot,'' your grandpa points to a sunlit spot through the trees.

You sprint for it, tripping over a few logs and branches before gazing out at the lake in wonder. Your grandpa catches up to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. It’s peaceful, nothing but the sound of the water rippling from fish splashing and cicadas singing. The sun's rays warm the entire area, birds fly close to the water picking up bugs on the surface. It’s a perfect day.

“Think we’ll catch a lot today Papaw?” you ask, trembling with excitement.

You can feel his deep laugh shake his entire body as he holds your shoulder. It’s comforting, it sounds like home and you close your eyes and revel in it. “Depends, little mouse,” he grunts.

Your eyes are still closed but you tilt your head in confusion and ask. “Depends on what Papaw?”

His grip suddenly tightens on your shoulder, so tight it starts to hurt. You reach a hand up to grab his hand and try to pull it away from you.

“Papaw that hurts,” you say struggling, but he only tightens his grip.

You open your eyes now and look up at him, but what you see isn’t your Papaw. This man is bald, with pale fragile skin, yellow teeth and yellow eyes. He looks sick, on the brink of death and he smells awful, like cigarette smoke and decay. Your heart beats fast as you try to pull away from him but he doesn’t let you go. He only laughs again, but this time it’s wheezy and bleeds into a cough that sounds like it’ll be his last.

Your heart feels as if it’s plunging into a dark abyss, fear swallowing you. You try to scream but the sound dies in your throat. What’s going on? Where is Papaw? Who is this and why won’t he let you go?

“Depends on if you leave me here to rot away and die again little mouse,” he cackles and this time your scream bellows and echoes across the murky green lake, a constant thumping you think may be your heart, beats loudly in your ears.

“No!”

You scream and shoot up in bed. It’s morning, the sun spills into the room as you look around the bedroom. You’re covered in sweat, the sheer shirt sticking to your torso as your chest heaves up and down. It was just a dream.The thumping doesn’t subside and you rub your temples as it gets louder.

It takes you a few minutes to realize the thumping isn’t just in your dream. Someone’s knocking on the door, now your door, and it sounds urgent. You throw the blanket off and shimmy your black skinny jeans up your legs, clamoring down the stairs as you button them clumsily.

The person outside is clearly annoyed, judging by the additional bang on the door before you open it. You’re eighty percent sure it isn’t Shouta or Hizashi.

You’re met with a broad chest and the humid summer morning air when you open the door. It’s a large man, towering over you with golden sun kissed skin and hair the color of hay. His arms are large and his muscles flex as he crosses them over his chest. Huge pecs peak over the neckline of the white tank top he wears and it clings to his lithe slim waist. He looks like some sort of athlete. He’s very handsome standing there in jeans hanging on his hips. They hang low despite his belt cinching them and showcasing a sliver of skin that hints at abs under his shirt.

Why is he here?

He’s snarling at you, looking down with the tip of his nose pointed in the air. His teeth and gums under his furled lip glisten in the morning sun. He looks like an angry giant with furrowed brows and piercing red eyes as he bores down on you. If you didn’t know any better, you could swear you see smoke come out of his nose when he huffs impatiently.

He studies you closely; his eyes scan over your body slowly, moving up and down your frame and as they do his lip only curls up in more disgust. It’s like he’s looking at vermin and it instantly makes you self conscious. With your bed head and puffy sleep filled eyes, you’re ready to slam the door shut and hide under a rock forever.

When he doesn’t speak, you lean forward and ask, “Hi, can I… umm help you with something?” The statement is polite but it holds the confusion and annoyance from being awakened by the banging on your door.

“You the new owner?” he grunts at you and his voice is rough and growley, almost like an animal.

You blink and take a step back at his intensity. Why is he asking you this? Is he going to hurt you? Do you need to grab a weapon or something? He looks so angry and disgusted with you that you wrack your brain for if you’ve ever seen or wronged this man. Maybe you cut him off in traffic one day?

“Umm...I guess you can say that. Sorry, who’d you say you were?” you stammer.

He looks offended, like he knows you know he didn’t say who he was before showing up randomly at your house and banging on your door like a crazed lunatic.

He rolls his eyes and sucks a scoff through his teeth. “Tsk, Well yer nothin’ to go nuts over.”

What the fuck is that about? Is he being serious? I thought people from the country were supposed to be nice with manners, you think. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your heart thumps nervously in your chest, bile rises in your throat, but you swallow it down.

“W...what?”

“Everybody’s losin’ their shit and talkin’ bout the new city girl who just moved in. You ain’t nothin’ special. You’ll be just like the others,” he continues, gesturing to you and waving an unbothered hand.

What you thought was bile in your throat turns out to be burning anger but you stifle the flames growing inside your belly. First impressions are everything, even if this guy sucks.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about but-”

Hot breath whooshing out from his flared nostrils interrupts you. He leans down to get close to your face. You can smell mint on his breath, can see the hints of glistening sweat on his brow and the intensity in his eyes. He looks you up and down again, staring at your tits in the bralette and sheer shirt, then smacks his lips in disgust again.

“Tsk, I give you a month. You’ll be gone in a month.” He says it more to himself than to you, almost as if he’s reassuring himself of something.

Before you can say anything in response, he spins around on his heel and stomps across your yard to his dark green truck. He slams the door shut, starts it, and drives away, leaving you standing in the doorway dumbfounded.

Wha the fuck was that? The first townsperson you meet after moving back home and it’s him? You don’t even know his name. This doesn’t bode well. You slam the door shut and stomp up the stairs back to the bedroom.

He doesn’t know you. Who is he to tell you you’ll be gone in a month? How was he able to tap directly into the one thing you’re self conscious about?

You think about the dream, no, the nightmare again. How your grandpa’s dying corpse held you, the sinister way he’d talked about how you left him. You shut your eyes and take deep breaths. Again your chest feels heavy, it feels like trying to intake breath through a thin straw. You bend down to drop your head between your knees, your eyes shut tight as the green of the forest from your dreams blend together with reality.

Before the pressure crushes you beneath its weight, your own humming breaks through the barrier. This song always works, his song, the one Gramps always sang to you when you felt this way.

As I went down to the river to pray

Studying about that good old way

The lyrics never made any sense to you as a kid, but his voice never failed to break through the panic. The song becomes your comfort; humming it to yourself is the only thing you think to do when you’re feeling this way and it works every time. You crawl over to your backpack and pull the letter out of the pocket. Seeing his handwriting again, I leave it all, my pride and joy, to you, my little mouse, it lights the flame in you. You owe it to him to take care of this place, especially after…

You fold the note and slip it back into your bag. Fuck that rude guy from this morning. You’re not going to let him stop you from keeping this promise to your grandpa. You’ll avoid him, it’s not that small of a town, it should be easy.

A cold shower helps you shake off this morning's events. With your hair dripping in waves and no longer sleek and plastered to your head, it’s the first of your city persona to go. Already it feels like you can see the remnants of your past coming back to you.

You twist your hair into two braids and go to the wardrobe in the bedroom to don country appropriate attire. It’s best not to stick out any more than you already do. The last thing you do is tie a bandana over your hair and gaze at yourself in the mirror. You look like your grandmother or rather an imposter wearing a costume, considering you’re wearing her clothes.

Gramps always said you were her spitting image. You sigh, it makes you feel all tingly. Stepping into her boots—and having them fit perfectly—assures you that you can do this, you will do this, no matter how hard it gets.

The rest of the morning is spent surveying the house in detail and making a list of things you need to do today. It’s still in good shape which is great considering the few years it sat empty. Some deep cleaning and loving is all it really needs.

There are a few holes in the wooden floors, a few in the roof that need to be patched, and the dried out garden out back needs to be weeded. Not to mention, filling your fridge with groceries and buying clothes since all you brought with you was art supplies. It also wouldn’t hurt to pick up a few books on gardening as well.

This all means, you need to go into town. How you’ll get into town though, that’s a different story. It was stupid to come here with no plan for transportation. When you lived in the city, there was no need for a car. Public transportation was everywhere, but here? A car is a necessity. You gnaw on your lip. Should you call and ask Shouta for a ride? The last thing you want is to have to depend on them for everything.

Stress about it later. Right now, you’re focused on riding the productivity high, so you go out to inspect the barn out back. It’s a beautiful day when you step out onto the porch, the morning sun grows warmer as it lifts higher into the sky, birds are tweeting and hovering over the crops of corn across the road. The grass on your property is high and needs to be mowed but it’s a healthy looking green that gives you hope that the garden will be easier to revive than you thought.

Something catches your attention across the yard. A big red truck you’re sure wasn’t there this morning sits in your driveway. You would’ve noticed it when that asshole drove off in his truck, even if you were still in shock. You saunter over to it warily, checking to see if there’s anyone lurking around your home. You peer into the window of the cab and there’s a folded piece of paper sitting on the seat. The keys are in the ignition and you’re puzzled. That definitely wouldn’t fly in the city.

You try the handle and the door swings open easily. Immediately, the smell of tobacco and eucalyptus hits you in the face and tears burn the rim of your eyes again. This was your grandpa’s truck and you know it as soon as you smell it. But how did it get here? You reach for the note and unfold it.

Teddy told us to take care of his truck while he was in the hospital. Just makes sense to give it to you. Take care of her. There’s firewood in the back. I figured you’d want a little more time to yourself so I snuck out while Zashi was in the shower.

Call if you need anything. I’m serious. Don’t be stubborn. We can help.

-Shouta

Shouta may be your favorite person in the entire town. You make a mental note to thank them both with a meal, then take the firewood into the house. With the truck, you can make it to town and visit a few shops to get what you need to clean and fix the floors.

Should you introduce yourself to people? What if they’re like the asshole you saw this morning? Maybe you shouldn't. You're left weighing the pros and cons of introducing yourself as you hop up into the truck, start the engine, and head towards town.

Shit.

Katsuki swerves a bit in the road, his hands sweat on the steering wheel as he drives. He’s shaking, from anger or relief he doesn’t truly know. All he knows is she’s not back. She’s not fucking back.

Her face pops into his mind again and he winces and shuts his eyes before opening them again and narrowly missing someone’s mailbox. He needs to calm the hell down. There’s no use gettin’ all worked up, you ain’t her. He should’ve listened more when Ei told him about you moving in, but he’d only focused on “moving back from the city,” and that was enough to put him on edge.

Your confusion as you stared up at him replays in his mind. You’d looked rough, like you didn’t get enough sleep with your wild puffy eyes and… something else he couldn’t really pinpoint. Was it fear? Doesn’t matter and it’s not his fucking problem. You were confused when you saw him and that’s the only reason he was so sure you had nothing to do with her.

Still there’s something that bothers him about you, something that rubs him the wrong way. It has to be because you’re from that disgustin’ place. Of course you’re rotten, living there poisons people’s minds with all the smog and dirty bullshit they breathe in from factories. Katsuki rolls down the window of his truck, the fresh morning air, full of fertilizer and grass is a comfort. He inhales deeply, this is the life.

Ain’t no way he’s gonna let some city brat like you ruin his tranquility. He turns off of the road to drive up the long driveway to his home. His barn is in the distance and it instantly soothes him. The girls are out grazing and he makes a mental note to cut up a few apples as a treat in exchange for leaving ‘em hanging this morning.

Katsuki pulls next to Eijirou’s truck in the driveway. He’s sitting on the front porch in the rocking chair, waving brightly at him. He stands when Katsuki hops out of his truck and saunters over to him with his hands jammed in his pockets.

“You’re out and about early. Thought you’d be feedin’ the cows and stuff when I got here,'' Eiji chuckles heartily.

Katsuki huffs. Eiji’s always too cheery in the morning and Katsuki’s definitely not in the mood for it. Especially not after the fucked up morning he just had with you.

“Had to run an errand,” he grunts as he stomps up the stairs of the porch.

Eijirou looks befuddled. “What errand? None of the shops are open this early,” he replies with a hint of suspicion in his tone.

Katsuki’s shoulders tense as he jams the key into the lock, swings the door open, and steps inside.

Fuck, he knows.

“Who are ya, my damn ma?” It’s not any of his goddamn business where he’s been this morning. He doesn’t owe him an answer. Katsuki rolls his eyes as he kicks off his boots and walks toward the kitchen.

He’s stopped in his tracks when Eiji puts a hulking hand on his shoulder and holds him back.

“Tell me you didn’t go to her house, man.”

He looks way too serious and his eyes burn into the side of Katsuki’s face. He already knows the answer but he seems like he’s holding out hope Katsuki will say no instead of affirming it.

Katsuki doesn’t say either, instead he shrugs out of his grasp and growls, “Fuck off.”

Eiji throws his hands up in frustration. “You did! What’s yer problem man? You can’t just go to people’s houses and start insultin’ them!”

Eijirou scolds him like a disappointed parent. If it were anyone but him, Katsuki would’ve told him to shut the fuck up and get out of his house. But Eiji’s been too good of a friend to push away, especially after she left. So instead he pouts.

“I was sick of everybody in this goddamn town talking about her! Had to see for myself and like I said, she ain’t nothing to sneeze at.”

“You don’t even know her,” Eijirou counters.

“Don’t care to either. She’s got no clue what she's getting herself into. She should just go back to the trash city she came from,” Katsuki tuts, turning to walk back into the kitchen.

Eiji kicks off his shoes and follows his friend into the kitchen. Clearly, this is far from over. Katsuki grabs a pitcher of tea from the fridge and pours two glasses. He knows what’s coming, some stupid fucking lecture about moving on and what not. He should know it ain’t that simple.

Eiji sighs and Katsuki takes a deep breath to prepare himself. His scarlet eyes flick up to his friend’s disappointed grimace.

“Kats...what’s this really about man?” he asks in an exasperated voice.

“The fuck are you talkin’ bout?” It’s too fucking early for this conversation, he’s already worked up and has to get caught up on the work he missed out on doing this morning. He scoots the glass across the island, a clear attempt to shut him up.

Eijirou squints but takes the glass and puts it to his lips to take a sip. Clearly it doesn't help. “When I mentioned a new woman movin’ in from the city who used to live here you looked like ya saw a ghost. I know you don’t talk about—”

“Shut it.”

Katsuki shuts his eyes, curls his fist tightly and takes a deep breath in and out before he opens his eyes and sees Eiji’s pity filled frown. He hates when he looks at him like that. It makes him want to spit fire.

Katsuki growls low and speaks through clenched teeth. “We ain’t talkin’ bout that. This is different. I know she ain’t her.”

Eiji looks unbothered and takes another gulp of his iced tea. “Fine, we don’t gotta talk about it. But will you at least try to be cordial with the new girl? Since you got no other reason to hate her other than the fact that she’s from the city,” he scolds, pouting his lips.

Katsuki gulps down the remaining tea in his glass then turns his back and places it down as hard as he can without breaking it, into the sink. “Tsk, whatever. I’ll just stay away from her,” he grunts as he turns on the water to rinse out his cup.

“Her grandpa just died dude. Give her a break.” Eijirou shakes his head, the pitiful frown still on his face as he speaks.

Oh shit. He didn't know about your grandpa. He knew you were moving into the home where the old guy used to live, but he didn’t know he died. It clicks then, why you looked so rough when you answered the door and why you look like you didn’t get much sleep.

He swallows the lump in his throat before he turns back to Eiji and gives him a teasing smirk.

“Then why don’t you go talk yerself into her pants. Be her lil angel.”

Eiji blushes, he knew that would fucking get him. “Maybe I will. She’ll need a proper welcome to the town since you ruined it,” he stammers.

Of course he already has it in his mind to go and greet you. Good lookin’ new girl in town? He’s probably hoping to be the helpful country boy who teaches the city girl the ropes.

“You’re so pussy whipped,” he sighs, motioning for Eiji’s empty glass.

“I’m just tryin’ to be nice!”

“And get pussy,” Katsuki snorts.

He cackles when Eiji looks at his feet shyly and mutters under his breath. “If it happens, it happens.”

When Eijirou finally changes the subject of why he’s here in the first place—his tomatoes are being attacked by caterpillars again even though Katsuki just gave him a remedy to keep them away—he takes another deep breath. He’s glad to have this conversation behind him.

He’ll admit it—only to himself—he thought you might be her. Back for some reason, a fresh start to torture him, who the fuck knows, but he had to check for himself. He needed reassurance. Even the thought of you being the old guy’s granddaughter hadn’t occurred to him.

It coulda been a cover story, maybe she’d be too ashamed to show her face here after up and leaving. Maybe she’d need a cover story and use the old guy bein’ sick to come back and start over. He hadn’t seen the old man a lot. Something about him living at the hospital or some kind of cancer clinic. It’d be a good cover for her.

It doesn’t fucking matter because she’s not back. You ain’t her and that’s all that matters. Although… you may not be her but you probably think just like her. You probably act just like her. Her face pops into his mind and his hand immediately itches for a cold beer. He wishes he was holding a drink, one tiny little sip to calm his nerves. It wouldn’t be much, just—

No. No. He’s been clean for a year and a half. Like hell if he’ll let some nobody like you remind him of all the shit that happened or cause him to fall back off the wagon.

He should keep his distance from you. You’re nothing but trouble. It shouldn’t be hard to stay away from you. Not like you’ll seek him out after what happened this morning anyway. He walks to the back door as Eiji continues complaining about the chewed up stalks of his tomato plants.

He’s decided. He’ll make his number one task staying as far from you as possible

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