Day 2

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IMPORTANT NOTE: This chapter introduces Bakugo's POV, so there will be some switching from now on as we get his thoughts and perspectives in addition to Reader's. Please keep this transition in mind while reading!


The sound of your alarm was achingly loud as you groaned against the pillow. Your dreams were odd and muddled, visions unclear against shifting colors and sounds. You grabbed the phone off your side table and looked at the time before quieting the sound and laying back down for a moment, the thought of going to work keeping you firmly in bed.

You sat straight up as a thought struck you and your eyes shifted towards your closed bedroom door, nerves tensing in your chest. "Yesterday couldn't have all been a"

Moving as quietly as you could with your feet padding softly against the floor you shakily reached forward, unlocked the door, and twisted the knob until the door opened. You bit down on your lower lip, unsure of what you might find as you approached the couch from the back. Taking a deep breath you looked over the edge and struggled not to drop your phone.

There he slept, a wild tuft of pale blonde hair leaned up against the armrest of your couch. His face was beautifully soft but tense, as though his dreams - if he had any - were angrier than your own. He just barely fit on the length of the couch, one foot propped up on the other armrest while the other leg draped off the cushion and onto the floor, along with half the blanket you'd given him. You didn't dare move closer and risk waking him up despite the strong urge to run your fingers through his soft-looking hair. He'd definitely blow your hand off for that one. So instead, you took one last glance at the sleeping man before you moved back into your room and grabbed your work clothes for the day.

Bakugo was still here, in your apartment, sleeping on your couch. He was going to be thoroughly pissed when he woke up with the realization that he hadn't returned home, but this meant you had one more day to learn more about him. "Wish I didn't have to go to work," you said under your breath while picking out clothes to take to the bathroom. Normally you'd just come out and change in here, but walking around in just a towel seemed like an embarrassingly bad idea under the current circumstance.

Sneaking out of the bedroom once more you tiptoed to the bathroom while glancing at the sleeping man on your couch before locking the door behind you. While you let the hot water wake you up at this early hour you reached for your soap only to see the items you bought Bakugo yesterday. They looked used, meaning he must've taken a shower at some point after you fell asleep. The thought of him using your shower and standing where you currently stood sent blood rushing to your face. "Oh God, no no, don't think of that. Just focus on getting through today," you told yourself while quickly finishing up your shower before hopping out.

Your work attire was usually business casual, and you weren't in a position to deal with clients directly, so you tried to keep things simple but professional: slacks and a conservative top with a bit of makeup to help you look properly awake. A few months ago some asshole coworker asked if you were sick when you didn't have time to put on concealer, hinting that women without makeup - or you, specifically - looked ill. It was completely sexist and pissed you off for the entire day, but you weren't dumb enough to notice how some men in higher positions had a tendency to retain the jobs of women at your work who put a bit more effort into their appearance than others. Of course, you wanted to be noticed for your work ethic and creative ideas, but sometimes that just wasn't enough. "Thanks, misogynistic workplace culture," you mumbled while trying not to get mascara in your eye. It wasn't even that you disliked dressing nicely or wearing makeup...but the idea of putting on a presentation to be taken seriously made your blood boil more often than you'd openly admit.

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