Worst Boss Ever (Bakugoxreader)

Ch. 39 The Life of a Bartender

"You know I can walk into the kitchen myself."

"But you don't have to. Please. Let me."

Getting up from the couch, Shoto kissed the top of your head and went to refill your water.

"I'll have the chef make you some lunch, too," he said as he headed into the kitchen. "You need to eat before the interior designer gets here with the samples to show you."

True to his word, Shoto really had taken care of everything, and then some. You hardly had to get off the couch except when his personal trainer came by to make you do your physical therapy.

Whatever you wanted to eat, his chef made it. Whatever thing you were missing from your apartment, Shoto bought, but he bought much better versions of them than what you'd had, like the softest pajamas you'd ever worn that you had on now.

And the interior designer that was coming? Shoto claimed he wanted your feedback on new paint and furniture, wanted to know what kinds of things you liked, but you knew there was more to it than that.

It made you feel like an ungrateful brat to not want him to do all of this. Shoto made sure every need was taken care of by him. If you hadn't had him, you didn't know what you would have done since your apartment building burned down. A homeless shelter wouldn't exactly be the best place to recover.

Honestly, when you thought about it, was this really so bad?

You stubbornly wanted to do things on your own, to not have to rely on someone else, but the truth was that you needed someone to rely on, now more than ever. And if that someone happened to be a handsome, wealthy hero who seemed almost desperate to please you?

There were worse things in life.

Your nurse at the hospital hadn't been kidding about the paparazzi. When the news put two-and-two together, realizing that the dashing, young pro hero Shoto was at the hospital visiting the same girl from the viral photos that were now everywhere on the internet, it seemed like more and more reporters were gathered outside Shoto's building each day.

Not that you could see the reporters from your spot on the couch. Shoto made sure to keep you far away from the windows and kept the curtains closed from prying eyes.

You were walking just fine now, even though you got tired quickly, and you were starting to feel more like yourself every day.

Except this version of yourself wore expensive pajamas and slept under expensive sheets in a rich man's penthouse apartment.

While Shoto was in the kitchen, you took out your phone, and for maybe the tenth time today, you tried to figure out how to respond to the text.

Dabi.

Dabi wanted you to know that he was done being patient. They wanted you at the hideout. It was time to go back to work. Did he need to come to your fancy new place and bring you to the hideout himself? He hoped you remembered what happened to the last building you lived in.

As if you could forget.

Give me a few more days, you responded. By next week I'll be able to get back to work.

I'm counting down the days, Dabi replied. Don't keep me waiting.

"Who are you texting?" Shoto asked, suddenly standing behind where you sat on the couch.

"Oh," you turned off your phone quickly, "my former boss."

Shoto came around the couch to bring you your water and raised an eyebrow.