Chapter Text
At exactly six-thirty in the morning, every morning, for the past three years, Katsuki Bakugou opens his eyes. He’s always already been awake before that, thanks to the alarm he sets for four minutes earlier. Five is just a little too long, and he’ll get sleepy again, and three is simply not enough, he won’t be able to get his brain together in time.
By seven, he’s got his outfit together and his breakfast in his stomach and he’s wasting zero time, snatching up his briefcase and making his way out into his apartment’s underground parking lot, not needing to mind where he’s going because it’s all muscle memory at this point. Bundled up in a scarf and warm thoughts of tea and pastries when he reaches his office, courtesy of his beloved secretary, Utsushimi Camie, pulling the car out onto the main road is almost too easy, and then he’s in front of the revolving doors of Bakugou Fashion.
‘Morning boss!’ comes from almost every single direction as soon as he steps inside the marble floors and gold detailing, but Katsuki is well-accustomed to it, and knows all he has to is give vague nods in vague directions and he won’t find the need to slow his pace at all, shined shoes walking easily on floors he’s literally grown up on.
“Mmh, you won’t forward the paper this morning Kat, it’s all bs about crime rate upscales.” Is what he’s greeted with when he emerges on the top floor, where his office, and the most important conference rooms are.
Instinctively sticking a hand out to receive the filled thermos from Camie, Katsuki wrinkles his nose in response. They do this every morning, to the point that days when Camie calls in sick and doesn’t show, are almost automatically scheduled as ‘bad’ days in his head. “So does that mean no update on that proposal on changing prison attire?”
Camie clacks her acrylic nails on her keyboard, a pleasant sound he curated by gifting her a creamy-sounding one for the company’s annual Kris Kringle two years ago. She makes a face, lips moving to one side as her eyebrows raise higher, almost into her blonde hairline. “Sorry, guess today’s a dud. Seems like you prolly won’t be wanting that new intern either, ‘cause they didn’t actually press send.”
Letting out a long, ragged sigh would be proof that today really is going to be a shit day, so Katsuki just purses his lips. “Well, if you’ve sent it now, it doesn’t matter.”
“Prolly not.” Camie hums her agreement, but then her eyes light up as she seems to have another thought. “Oh! Actually, there highkey is some good news today. That hot new model’s having his first shoot today, if you wanna see. It’s at two. I cleared your schedule in case you do, but if not, then I guess you can go get that manicure you’ve been wanting.”
New model? Right, Bakugou remembers now. He wasn’t directly involved in the whole ordeal, but he did have to sign off on all the documents as the current CEO, so he made sure he was well-informed about everything.
Models are the key to selling their success, in the form of the clothes they get adorned with, so of course this is important. The ‘hot new model’ Camie is talking about is seemingly some kind of a niche savant in the modelling industry, who’s been making waves by starting new trends every time he walks the runway. Making goth more mainstream with a photoshoot he did, endorsing gyaru with a stray comment and causing the internet to explode with praise, Katsuki’s been spending the past year designing and planning with Shinsou Hitoshi always in the back of his mind.
“I’ll watch. The manicure can wait. This company’s future is arguably more important than the state of my nail beds.” Not that there’s anything wrong with them, he clicks his tongue as he instinctively looks down at a hand. So maybe he just fuckin’ likes sitting there and doing something nice for himself while simultaneously not actually physically doing anything.
Sticking a straw in her own iced caramel confection, Camie grins. “Gotcha. Totally not gonna argue with the boss.” Her tone shifts to something a little more conversational as her interest piques. “Tbh, I lowkenuinely thought people were kinda glazing him, ‘cause I was so like, how hot can a guy be? Y’all cannot be that down bad for one baddie. But like, I was watching some edits of that shoot he did for that watch brand, shut up, you know doomscrolling is how I stay relevant, and like, gahdamn, he’s hawt. Apparently he swings the other way though, so another win for the gays I guess.”
Thank fuck Katsuki is used to her after four years of working together, because after just one momentary pause, he’s gotten the gist of what she’s saying. “That’s… Nice. I’m sure you’ll finally find a guy who’ll get his nails done with you who isn’t gay, one day, Camie.”
Quickly, Bakugou shuffles off to his office before Camie gets too heated up about it, but he’s still not fast enough to avoid the inevitable consequences.
“Hey! That’s rich, coming from the last gay guy to get his nails done with me!” She squawks indignantly as he quickly slams his door shut. He’s going to get an earful about it when he sees her later, but can you blame him for being scared? She’s one of those girls who can somehow find out her crush’s exact time of birth, down to the minute if she really tries. He’s lucky he’s the one in charge of her salary, or she’d have doxxed him for being such an asshole when they first met.
Computer switched on and things settled into their places on his desk, Katsuki automatically goes to check his emails, but instead, his mouse hovers over the small button at the bottom of his screen. Instead, he pulls up his preferred search engine and goes to YouTube, typing in a very simple search.
‘Shinsou Hitoshi watch photoshoot’
Immediately, thousands of videos come up, some posted by Shinsou’s agency, Eraserhead Modelling, some by the brands or designers he’s done shoots with, and some from his own personal account, titled ‘the_real_shin’.
The aesthetic of the channel is clear as day, or, well, night, with the banner being some beautifully photographed shot of Shinsou’s eyes, pale violet shining from morning sunlight, reminding Katsuki of fields of lavender and lacey fabrics and his finger twitches as he immediately wants to grab his sketchbook and get some ideas down before he forgets, but he hasn’t got the time for that right now.
There are far more pressing matters at hand, those being ahem, associating himself better with Shinsou’s image, to get a better idea of what Shinsou’s shoots look like so he can make sure the shoot is as good for their brand as it will be for Shinsou’s career.
Or maybe he’s just an incredibly lonely homosexual man who’ll take any crumbs he can get from one of the hottest people alive.
Finding the video that Camie and apparently everyone else on the internet was talking about, Katsuki pulls out some dried mango as a snack as well as his glasses, already taking in the details as the video starts.
Yes, it’s a very nice watch brand, expensive and kind of meaningless considering there are hundreds of other ways to tell the time in this day and age, but he has to admit, the way Shinsou is selling it, Katsuki is very much inclined to buy. It’s not like he needs any more pretty things in his life, but well… Bedroom eyes is kind of the only way to describe how Shinsou looks at the camera, like he’s personally well-acquainted with the viewer’s sensitive side.
Holy shit. Is it really necessary for Shinsou to be tugging up his shirt to show off his boundless planes of muscles for a watch ad? This has to be too much. But for once in Katsuki’s life, he is just like the rest of the people on the internet, eating up the wet dream come to life that is Shinsou Hitoshi. His mouse is hovering again, this time over the like button, but he chastises himself. This is his public account, so no liking any videos that don’t have to do with his own company.
Still, he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the video even as it ends and a different one automatically takes its place, this one of a shoot focussing on some kind of sportswear collection, and Shinsou is now in a shirt so skin-tight he might as well be shirtless for all it does to ‘cover’ him. Isn’t the original function of clothes to provide warmth and protection? Well then what the fuck is point here, if that shit is so tight and thin it’s basically not even there?
Hmph. Katsuki could do so much better. Still, he memorises the title of the video sub-consciously, knowing he hasn’t got anything to do at home when he gets off work.
The rest of the morning passes mostly uneventfully as Katsuki has to close the tab and actually get some work done. (Such a shame, when he could be out here doing god’s work like whoever Shinsou’s photographers are).
Thanking Camie for his lunch that she slides onto his desk, spicy sichuan chicken noodles which he finishes off quickly so he can spend the rest of his lunch break on more important tasks. In the middle of winter, the sky outside quickly takes on a dampened hue, the feeling of time slipping away already overtaking Katsuki’s day, even though his day is only half over.
He clicks play on a new video, this time resting the lower half of his face in his arms, folding on the edge of his desk, settling into the position.
It’s a different kind of vibe this time, one of ethereal beauty, falling feathers and strings of pearls, delicacy perched on elegant fingertips, saddled in cold but dreamy gazes, the very air changed. A new shot, from an angle that just captures Shinsou’s eyes and nose, making Katsuki startle with how much it mirrors his current self. The camera drifts lower, letting smooth, soft lips come into view, pursing slightly as Shinsou takes in a breath, then breathes out easily, shimmering specks flying forth with an ‘awoosh’, the screen completely enveloped in silvery glitter, teeny glimmers of violet and wisteria from within the cloud. Katsuki breathes in, wondering, from some distant place in his mind that’s supposed to be alert, if maybe he can share some of that wonder as well.
All he wants to do is sit and stare for the rest of his afternoon, ignore the rest of his responsibilities, and remain in such a state of enchantment. It’s been a long time since Katsuki has fallen in love with something as artful as this, and as soon as the inspiration has taken hold, it won’t loosen its grip on his heart.
There are ruffles now, moon-white and iridescent, pale against Shinsou’s yet lighter skin, and Katsuki wonders if it’s part of the appeal, the almost vampiric atmosphere the man has, while simultaneously breathing in feathers and softness like an angel. A choker made of lace traps Shinsou’s neck, and the irony is almost tragic, how beauty can drown someone. For once, Katsuki has paid so much more attention to the model than the clothes that he can’t even remember what brand this is for.
“Bakugou Katsuki! Are you for real? You told me you were coming and it’s two fifteen already! And what the heck have you been doing?
Immediately, Katsuki is transported back to his high school days as he switches tabs and mutes his audio faster than light, his heart dropping all the way from his chest down into the floor, there to stay as he looks up, aware the tops of his ears are bright red. He pushes his glasses back up to their original position on the bridge of his nose. This is his backup pair, so he has to keep in mind to be careful with them.
“Whose office do you fuckin’ think this is?” Katsuki barks, trying to not act like he’s been doing anything illegal. Which he has not, thank you very much. Watching a photoshoot is very much legal, because if the contrary were true, he and fifty million other people who have also viewed the video are all going to prison.
“It’s yours, duh, or else why would I bust in here goin’ ‘Bakugou Katsuki!’” Camie leans against the door, a habit she knows he can’t stand, hence why she’s doing it. He pissed her off, she’ll annoy the hell out of him right back. It’s why she is still employed, because Katsuki needs people who can deal with his shittiness and not get hurt by it, because this is just how he is. It’s not like it matters, as long as he can back it up with talent.
Katsuki just rolls his eyes, refusing to acknowledge he’s the one in the wrong here. “Whatever. I’m coming to watch the shoot, so keep your panties on.”
“Who knows? Maybe I’m not wearing any.” Camie makes a point of rolling her eyes even higher than his, the whites of her eyes momentarily being all he can see for a split second, and it creeps him out so much he gives in.
“Okay okay quit it, that’s fucking scary. I’ll buy you some cake from that bakery you like downstairs, deal?” Katsuki huffs, grabbing his coat from the back of his office chair, shrugging it on, slipping his phone into one of the inner pockets.
Camie sniffs, folding her arms over her chest. “Only if you don’t take the money out of my salary later like some kind of sneak, sure.”
Somehow, this gets a laugh out of him. He’s glad she’s here, and coming to watch the shoot with him too, because he’s going to need all the emotional support he can get not to pop a hard-on in his pants.