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Description

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Soft snoozing waded through the still air of a listess apartment filled to the brim with half empty boxes and a carpet made out of packing peanuts. The timer’s alarm bounced off the bare walls until they finally reached the ears of a girl sprawled about the cushions of her pale grey sofa. Returning to the world of broken dreams and taxes, the couch potato girl gasped as she sat up mummy-style, eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Swift as a coursing river, the (h/c) haired girl sprang up from her linen seat and dashed towards the kitchen.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Your shouts accompanied the symphony of popping emerging from the layers of bubble wrap matching your other plastic rug. The harmonies ended as you rounded the corner of your tiny kitchen, careful not to stub your toe again that day. “My lasagna!”

You scrambled to find your pink and green oven mitts that you’d sworn you put next to the fridge. Finally, you spotted them in the sink full of dishes and, after questioning how they got in the sink for half a second, slipped them on and opened up your oven. You braved the hell hole hotter than Endeavor’s mustache and retrieved your meaty meal.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” you squealed, trying your best to clear an area of the countertop with your elbow without spilling your cheese crusted food. Post-haste, you slid the glass dish onto the granite and threw the mitts off to inspect your burning palms.

“Fuck, man! I thought oven mitts were supposed to absorb the heat.” You blew on your red hands as furiously as you could, soon resorting to waving your limp spaghetti wrists in the air like a drunk t-rex. “Thank god I’m not a chef. I couldn’t imagine having my hands being on fire all day.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU GLORIFIED GRAPE VINE!”

You jumped at the roar coming from the wall behind your oven. Maybe it wasn’t done with your lasagna?

“Dude calm down!” your oven cried once again.

“I guess there’s a party going on,” you concluded based on the loud crashes and multitude of voices yelling ‘do it’ and ‘don’t do it.’

Great, a party! That would be a perfectly natural way to introduce yourself to your neighbors. A party could always use more food, and it would give you the chance to meet even more people. Maybe you could make some friends! That’ll show your mom you could make it in the city.

With a newfound determination, you transferred your starchy meal into a new, presentable container and ran to your room to change into your not-hobo clothes. Black skinny jeans, a graphic tee, and an open red flannel shirt with complementing red and black sneakers comprised your casual, cute, please-like-me-I-need-friends outfit for the night. Pasta in hand, you rushed out the door and with the turn of a heel, you found yourself at your destination: the Bakugou residence.

You breathed heavily as you read the nameplate of your neighbor, practicing your introduction under your breath. “Hi, I’m neighbor, your new (first). What? No, fuck,” you scolded yourself for your nervous mistake. “Hey Bakugou, eat my lasagna!… God, I’m an idiot.” You shook your head, exhaling again behind the door. “Hi. I’m (first)-”

“SOMEONE SAVE ME!”

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!”

Before you could finish your rehearsal, the curtain was drawn back. The door flew open and a 4-foot-tall glass of grape juice brushed past your wide-eyed self. Of course, not without knocking into you. The force was just enough to make you drop the cheesy goodness you’d worked so hard on that day onto the ground. Luckily, you managed to move in time to miss your shoes, but the food landed right on the bright green doormat you’d been standing on.

Not a second later, a young man with spiky blond hair, and a scowl that could make the baddest villain’s blood run cold, marched into the door frame as he yelled obscenities. “Oi! You little shi-!” His attention quickly turned to you, who was currently standing in his doorway with the look you wore when taking an exam you didn’t study for.

“Hi-I’m-neighbor-your-(first),” you rambled incoherently, earning a questioning glare from your crimson-eyed neighbor. “Ah- I mean- I’m (first), your new neighbor.” You gave yourself a mental high five for finally saying it right.

Bakugou scoffed with a raised brow, “Oh, so you’re the reason the fire alarm has been going off so much lately?” He looked you up and down until his eyes made their way to your feet. “What the fuck happened to my doormat?!”

Instinctively, your arms shot up in a defensive manner as you explained. “Th-that guy or whatever you were chasing ran into me and I dropped the lasagna I brought for you. I promise I’ll get you a new one!” With that, your arms and gaze simultaneously dropped to the floor like your ruined pasta dish and you sighed in defeat. “I should leave, shouldn’t I?”

The young man opened his mouth, but the voice came from another blond with equally spiky hair beyond the door. “Woah, Bakugou! Who’s the hottie? Is she your girlfriend?!”

“No, she’s not my fucking girlfriend, you dumbass!”

“Either way, forget Mineta and invite her in!” another voice chimed in, this time from a fiery redhead.

Bakugou let out a rugged sigh after his little explosion as he turned back to you. “Well? You coming or what?” His question earned a dazzling smile from you, eagerly entering his apartment.

Your presence stirred the party, evident in the way the members of the small community flocked to your side. Guided by a beautiful woman with long black hair and a cheerful girl with short brown hair, you made your way through the groups of friends that hung around the flat, introducing yourself to every person you could find. Surprisingly, Bakugou made for a pretty good host, though he could have been a bodyguard with the way he followed your every move to “protect” you from the people he deemed “complete freaks.”

The fun continued as you played Infinity Questions until the party started dying out and the partygoers started making their way home. Finally, it was just you and your handsome new neighbor left cleaning his apartment; the tarnished lasagna had already been picked up, you assumed by the boy with the glasses and exquisite calves.

The two of you cleaned as you exchanged some light conversation--mainly about how Bakugou had been roped into throwing a party--until it was enough that he could handle on his own. You strode to the door and opened it to your own beside his. “Thanks for inviting me in. I had a lot of fun. And… Sorry about your doormat again. Promise I’ll get you a new one, ok?”

“Sure,” the blond grunted, leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“I guess so.”

Giddy as a schoolgirl, you bit your lip in an attempt to hide the smile covering your face. Bakugou watched you enter your new home and listened to the squealing coming from behind your door with a smirk on his face. He guessed he’d be getting his new doormat soon.

~~~

Sighing heavily, Bakugou flopped onto his couch, legs and arms spread upon the leather bindings. His stomach growled at the thought of his empty fridge and pantry that seemed to mock him every second he was conscious. Maybe he should get delivery?

As if on cue, he heard a knock on the door. He debated on just lying there until the person went away, but the thought faded after the knocking persisted. With a grunt, the blond rose to his feet and trudged towards the incessant noise.

“It better not be one of those damn salesmen,” he grumbled under his breath.

The spiky-haired firecracker swung his door open ready to fight but was instead met with a frail girl with doe-like eyes.

“I-I brought chinese? And a new doormat?” you stared with a helpless smile, a bag in both hands.

Bakugou sighed once more, secretly thankful that his prayers had been answered in more ways in one. He stepped aside to let you in and closed the door behind you. Like the wonderful host he was, he lead you to the couch he was previously bumming around on so you could eat together.

“So,” he started, “you got me a new doormat.”

You perked up at this, excited to talk about your discovery. You’d spent the past few days looking for a mat similar to the one he had until you stumbled upon the beautiful creation you’d brought to his home.

“Yup! I thought it’d fit you perfectly.”

The dandelion boy smirked. “Oh, really? Lemme see it.”

You eagerly fished the mat out of your shopping bags like a pet bringing their owner an animal it caught. You handed it to your companion and waited for his reaction with puppy eyes.

A moment passed in silence until Bakugou let out a chuckle that erased every doubt you had of moving to the city. The smile on his face made yours feel like it was on fire.

“You know, (first), you’re not too bad.”

You brushed some hair behind your ear at what you were pretty sure was his compliment. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

The blond’s smile returned to its smirking state as he strolled towards the door and opened it for the second time that day. “It’s fucking perfect.” With the flick of the wrist, the doormat was on the ground before his door and Bakugou was reading the message with every fiber in his body screaming in agreement.

“Home is where them fuckers ain’t.”

Description

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Soft snoozing waded through the still air of a listess apartment filled to the brim with half empty boxes and a carpet made out of packing peanuts. The timer’s alarm bounced off the bare walls until they finally reached the ears of a girl sprawled about the cushions of her pale grey sofa. Returning to the world of broken dreams and taxes, the couch potato girl gasped as she sat up mummy-style, eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Swift as a coursing river, the (h/c) haired girl sprang up from her linen seat and dashed towards the kitchen.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Your shouts accompanied the symphony of popping emerging from the layers of bubble wrap matching your other plastic rug. The harmonies ended as you rounded the corner of your tiny kitchen, careful not to stub your toe again that day. “My lasagna!”

You scrambled to find your pink and green oven mitts that you’d sworn you put next to the fridge. Finally, you spotted them in the sink full of dishes and, after questioning how they got in the sink for half a second, slipped them on and opened up your oven. You braved the hell hole hotter than Endeavor’s mustache and retrieved your meaty meal.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” you squealed, trying your best to clear an area of the countertop with your elbow without spilling your cheese crusted food. Post-haste, you slid the glass dish onto the granite and threw the mitts off to inspect your burning palms.

“Fuck, man! I thought oven mitts were supposed to absorb the heat.” You blew on your red hands as furiously as you could, soon resorting to waving your limp spaghetti wrists in the air like a drunk t-rex. “Thank god I’m not a chef. I couldn’t imagine having my hands being on fire all day.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU GLORIFIED GRAPE VINE!”

You jumped at the roar coming from the wall behind your oven. Maybe it wasn’t done with your lasagna?

“Dude calm down!” your oven cried once again.

“I guess there’s a party going on,” you concluded based on the loud crashes and multitude of voices yelling ‘do it’ and ‘don’t do it.’

Great, a party! That would be a perfectly natural way to introduce yourself to your neighbors. A party could always use more food, and it would give you the chance to meet even more people. Maybe you could make some friends! That’ll show your mom you could make it in the city.

With a newfound determination, you transferred your starchy meal into a new, presentable container and ran to your room to change into your not-hobo clothes. Black skinny jeans, a graphic tee, and an open red flannel shirt with complementing red and black sneakers comprised your casual, cute, please-like-me-I-need-friends outfit for the night. Pasta in hand, you rushed out the door and with the turn of a heel, you found yourself at your destination: the Bakugou residence.

You breathed heavily as you read the nameplate of your neighbor, practicing your introduction under your breath. “Hi, I’m neighbor, your new (first). What? No, fuck,” you scolded yourself for your nervous mistake. “Hey Bakugou, eat my lasagna!… God, I’m an idiot.” You shook your head, exhaling again behind the door. “Hi. I’m (first)-”

“SOMEONE SAVE ME!”

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!”

Before you could finish your rehearsal, the curtain was drawn back. The door flew open and a 4-foot-tall glass of grape juice brushed past your wide-eyed self. Of course, not without knocking into you. The force was just enough to make you drop the cheesy goodness you’d worked so hard on that day onto the ground. Luckily, you managed to move in time to miss your shoes, but the food landed right on the bright green doormat you’d been standing on.

Not a second later, a young man with spiky blond hair, and a scowl that could make the baddest villain’s blood run cold, marched into the door frame as he yelled obscenities. “Oi! You little shi-!” His attention quickly turned to you, who was currently standing in his doorway with the look you wore when taking an exam you didn’t study for.

“Hi-I’m-neighbor-your-(first),” you rambled incoherently, earning a questioning glare from your crimson-eyed neighbor. “Ah- I mean- I’m (first), your new neighbor.” You gave yourself a mental high five for finally saying it right.

Bakugou scoffed with a raised brow, “Oh, so you’re the reason the fire alarm has been going off so much lately?” He looked you up and down until his eyes made their way to your feet. “What the fuck happened to my doormat?!”

Instinctively, your arms shot up in a defensive manner as you explained. “Th-that guy or whatever you were chasing ran into me and I dropped the lasagna I brought for you. I promise I’ll get you a new one!” With that, your arms and gaze simultaneously dropped to the floor like your ruined pasta dish and you sighed in defeat. “I should leave, shouldn’t I?”

The young man opened his mouth, but the voice came from another blond with equally spiky hair beyond the door. “Woah, Bakugou! Who’s the hottie? Is she your girlfriend?!”

“No, she’s not my fucking girlfriend, you dumbass!”

“Either way, forget Mineta and invite her in!” another voice chimed in, this time from a fiery redhead.

Bakugou let out a rugged sigh after his little explosion as he turned back to you. “Well? You coming or what?” His question earned a dazzling smile from you, eagerly entering his apartment.

Your presence stirred the party, evident in the way the members of the small community flocked to your side. Guided by a beautiful woman with long black hair and a cheerful girl with short brown hair, you made your way through the groups of friends that hung around the flat, introducing yourself to every person you could find. Surprisingly, Bakugou made for a pretty good host, though he could have been a bodyguard with the way he followed your every move to “protect” you from the people he deemed “complete freaks.”

The fun continued as you played Infinity Questions until the party started dying out and the partygoers started making their way home. Finally, it was just you and your handsome new neighbor left cleaning his apartment; the tarnished lasagna had already been picked up, you assumed by the boy with the glasses and exquisite calves.

The two of you cleaned as you exchanged some light conversation--mainly about how Bakugou had been roped into throwing a party--until it was enough that he could handle on his own. You strode to the door and opened it to your own beside his. “Thanks for inviting me in. I had a lot of fun. And… Sorry about your doormat again. Promise I’ll get you a new one, ok?”

“Sure,” the blond grunted, leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“I guess so.”

Giddy as a schoolgirl, you bit your lip in an attempt to hide the smile covering your face. Bakugou watched you enter your new home and listened to the squealing coming from behind your door with a smirk on his face. He guessed he’d be getting his new doormat soon.

~~~

Sighing heavily, Bakugou flopped onto his couch, legs and arms spread upon the leather bindings. His stomach growled at the thought of his empty fridge and pantry that seemed to mock him every second he was conscious. Maybe he should get delivery?

As if on cue, he heard a knock on the door. He debated on just lying there until the person went away, but the thought faded after the knocking persisted. With a grunt, the blond rose to his feet and trudged towards the incessant noise.

“It better not be one of those damn salesmen,” he grumbled under his breath.

The spiky-haired firecracker swung his door open ready to fight but was instead met with a frail girl with doe-like eyes.

“I-I brought chinese? And a new doormat?” you stared with a helpless smile, a bag in both hands.

Bakugou sighed once more, secretly thankful that his prayers had been answered in more ways in one. He stepped aside to let you in and closed the door behind you. Like the wonderful host he was, he lead you to the couch he was previously bumming around on so you could eat together.

“So,” he started, “you got me a new doormat.”

You perked up at this, excited to talk about your discovery. You’d spent the past few days looking for a mat similar to the one he had until you stumbled upon the beautiful creation you’d brought to his home.

“Yup! I thought it’d fit you perfectly.”

The dandelion boy smirked. “Oh, really? Lemme see it.”

You eagerly fished the mat out of your shopping bags like a pet bringing their owner an animal it caught. You handed it to your companion and waited for his reaction with puppy eyes.

A moment passed in silence until Bakugou let out a chuckle that erased every doubt you had of moving to the city. The smile on his face made yours feel like it was on fire.

“You know, (first), you’re not too bad.”

You brushed some hair behind your ear at what you were pretty sure was his compliment. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

The blond’s smile returned to its smirking state as he strolled towards the door and opened it for the second time that day. “It’s fucking perfect.” With the flick of the wrist, the doormat was on the ground before his door and Bakugou was reading the message with every fiber in his body screaming in agreement.

“Home is where them fuckers ain’t.”