(All photos are from Pinterest)
The knock on your apartment door came exactly four minutes after Bakugou’s final text message, heavy, rapid, and unhurried.
When you opened it, he was already pushing past you into your living eoom. He had his massive duffel bag slung over one shoulder, a laptop tucked awkwardly under his arm, and his tower held in a vice-like grip against his chest. He didn't even say hello.
"Move," he muttered, marching straight past your living room couch and heading down the narrow hallway toward the back of the apartment.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" you snapped, turning on your heel to follow him. "I literally told you not to come over!"
"Your living room has too much ambient sound from the street, and the lighting is shit," Bakugou called back, already barging into your bedroom without a shred of hesitation. "I'm setting up in here."
You stopped at the threshold, watching in sheer disbelief as he dropped his duffel onto your unmade bed and began clearing off your vanity desk. He unceremoniously shoved your perfume bottles and makeup brushes to the far edge, setting up his monitor with practiced, aggressive efficiency.
"You are completely unbelievable," you said, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed tight over your chest. "You can't just take over my entire bedroom."
"My internet went down, both services are out, and I’m not missing a scheduled stream because my provider sucks," he retorted. He plugged in display ports and heavy power cables, screwing his mic boom arm directly onto the edge of your desk.
He turned around, wiping his hands on his dark jeans as his crimson eyes flicked over you—taking in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants.
"Whatever. Stream’s going live in ten seconds," he grunted, pulling his headset over his spiky blonde hair and settling into your desk chair. "Get out and shut the door. If I hear you making noise in the kitchen, I'm changing your Wi-Fi password to something you'll never guess."
You glared at the back of his head, but you stomped down the hall anyway, shutting his—well, your—bedroom door firmly behind you.
Heading into the living room, you flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh and pulled up your phone. A notification immediately popped up from Mina, pointing out that his chat was already spiraling over the unfamiliar background and the fairy lights hung up behind his monitor. You couldn't help but shake your head at his stubbornness.
For the next two hours, the muted sound of his low, aggressive grumbles and occasional shouting filtered through the heavy wood of your bedroom door. It was weirdly comforting in an absurd way, acting like background noise while you scrolled on your phone and slowly began to drift off.
By midnight, your eyes were burning, and you desperately wanted your own bed back. Sitting up on the couch, you rubbed your tired eyes and padded quietly back down the hallway, gently pushing the bedroom door open just a crack.
Bakugou was mid-rant, utterly absorbed in carried matches on his screen while yelling at his chat for asking stupid questions. The dark room was illuminated only by the glow of monitor and the warm string lights behind him.
You caught his eye in the glass reflection of his screen. You pointed to yourself, then gestured toward the bed on the far side of the room, silently saying, 'I'm going to sleep.'
Bakugou paused mid-sentence. His eyes darted from his main display to your quiet figure standing in the doorway, then straight to his webcam overlay.
Without breaking stride or cutting the audio, he reached out with one broad hand and slammed his palm directly over the camera lens, plunging his video feed into total darkness for thousands of viewers.
"Technical difficulties, hold your damn horses," he growled into the microphone, his stern voice cutting through the quiet room.
Keeping his large hand clamped tight over the lens, he turned his head over his shoulder, his red eyes locking onto yours in the dark as he jerked his chin toward the bed, waiting silently until you could sneak across the room and slip under the covers.
You crept across the carpeted floor, keeping as low as possible to stay out of any ambient reflection on the monitors. Slipping under the covers of your bed, the cool sheets felt like heaven after spending hours slouched on the sofa. You pulled the duvet up to your chin, sinking into the mattress and letting out a soft, barely audible sigh.
From across the room, Bakugou kept his palm pressed flat against the webcam, his crimson eyes tracking your every move in the dark. Once he saw you settle in and close your eyes, his broad shoulders noticeably relaxed. He pulled his hand away from the lens, bringing his grimacing face back into the frame for the thousands of confused viewers currently spamming the live chat.
"Like I said, dropped a cable," Bakugou lied smoothly into the microphone, his voice dropping into a lower, grittier octave to keep from waking you. "Quit crying about the black screen. I'm back, aren't I?"
He refocused on his game, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard with rapid, rhythmically soft clicks. Every few minutes, he’d subtly glance over his shoulder at the bed, checking to make sure the low hum of his voice and the glow of his monitors weren't bothering you. Whenever the chat started getting too loud or demanding he speak up, he just hit them with a quick, quiet threat to end the stream early.
As the late hours ticked by, the room remained bathed in the warm, cozy glow of the fairy lights and the cool blue light of his monitors. Listening to the steady, predictable cadence of Bakugou’s voice was surprisingly soothing, and before long, you felt yourself drifting off into a deep, uninterrupted sleep—completely oblivious to the fact that his chat had already spotted your reflection in your poorly positioned mirror behind him.
AWFUL WEEK AND THIS NEVER POSTED 😩 ORIGINAL NOTE SAID TAGS WERE CURRENTLY CLOSED IM SORRY
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