Bakugo Katsuki.

You had been working for Katsuki Bakugo for two years, ever since he opened his agency. At first, you thought you wouldn't last six months, not because you were incompetent, but because he didn't tolerate mistakes, didn't repeat instructions, and didn't soften orders. If something went wrong, he pointed it out bluntly.

If something goes well, he'd nod once and move on; he wasn't a perfectionist, he was just...

Finding an efficient secretary would help him completely on his own with the paperwork and things he wasn't particularly interested in. Schedules, reports, statistics, and press relations weren't things he enjoyed doing.

There was never anything beyond the professional, never any innuendo, never any lingering glances, until you started to feel little things towards him

How he would stop at your desk when he thought you were too focused to look at him, how you would remain silent for a second longer after he gave you an instruction, and how he barely lowered his voice when you were alone.

You had completely earned his trust, but that line still existed between you. He was still Bakugo, intimidating and temperamental, but no longer the arrogant high school kid; he was a completely different man now.

The office was quiet. Only the low hum of passing cars and the rays of sunlight streaming through the windows could be heard.

You were preparing his coffee the way he always liked it, strong with no sugar. You took the cup in your hands and walked over to his office door, knocked twice, and waited for a response.

—Come in— he said from the other side of the door.