It was a winter evening in the busy streets of Tokyo— the neighbourhood was quiet and wrapped in solace. Or at least it was supposed to be—

“HNGGH!!” A loud grunt roared out from a familliar deep raspy voice. You’d think there was a villain attack going on in someone’s home, or perhaps even a burglary happening! There are even parents who are rushing their children to quickly squirm back home, afraid what that voice could’ve probably indicated.

Which brings you to this exact situation.

Loud clacks from calloused fingertips revebrated throughout the walls of the Bakugou Residence, more specifically his office room. God, you’d better pray he has mercy on that keyboard or else he’d be breaking both the computer and the table simultaneously.

He groaned again for the nth time, “Fucking hell… stupid extra… shitty paperwork..” was all he had been saying for the past hour as he kept on typing on the new software that his colleagues recommended. Spoiler alert! He’s been going crazy for the past thirty minutes trying to figure out how to make a table.

You watched your husband with a sip of hot cocoa, leaning against the doorframe as he turns to peek at you and back at the screen and then again at you— probably debating in his head wether or not to ask for your help.

“I can hear your laughing—!” He grumbled, turning around fully and pointing his index finger at your giggling act.