Before you start: Yes, I know that it is currently 8:35 in the morning. I am also aware that you had just clocked in 30 minutes ago. However, I do need the final draft for Project A within 25 minutes.
If you want an extension, I'm afraid it isn't possible. The secretary would like this done at 9:00, therefore, my hands are tied.
You may enter the office without knocking, as you always do. Have the printed copy prepared.
I appreciate you in ways words could never express. What a coincidence it is, that I am currently famished. You know me all too well.
I ordered a latte for you. It will be brought to your table in approximately 15 minutes. I understand that you cannot focus without your morning coffee. Haha.
Also, please refrain from using emojis in emails. It is quite unprofessional. Remember, that although the higher-ups do not mind: it is best to remain as formal as possible.
You are right. I should not have said something so painfully idiotic. My wife is the only woman who I'd talk to this way—work hours or not.
I beg of you to not make me sleep in the guest bedroom. My heart aches at the thought of being away from you. I'm afraid I would not be able to sleep, unless you are safe in my arms.
Would you still like to have lunch with me? If not, I will give you space. I can sit at the next table closest to you and simply stare, yearning to share a meal with the woman of my dreams.
If yes, then I'd be a very happy man. I cannot wait to taste the lunch you packed for me. 😄
I miss you dearly. I find it extremely difficult to remain patient, knowing that you are 4 corridors away, sulking in that uncomfortable chair.
Please sulk next to me. After all, I am the one who got you upset. Allow me to make up for it. You deserve to be pampered, treasured; and I apologize for my lack of better judgement, alongside my incapability to distinguish the special privileges I should bestow upon my wife.
If it were anyone else to use emojis and informal language while emailing me, I would have scolded them fervently. Only my darling wife is exempt from such treatment. As you should be.
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this is something that will absolutely appeal only to me… but i’m employed again … with the stunning twist of having about the same level of jjba brainworm as i did in 9th grade… so here is the sbr legoland au
gyros charisma and elemental knowledge of every lego set ever would make him a great vip tour guide and i guarantee i didn’t give him half the ridiculous accessories my coworkers wear but if i weren’t lazy i would have given him a 2 foot long lego brick built sword. he’d put a lot of work into looking a lovable nerdy fool
and johnny would be in the catch all interchangeable position they generalize all new hires into, perhaps retail or on minifig trades for the day. he would not put any effort into his brick badge but secretly loves arguing with 7 year olds about their favorite ninjago character.
i have visions for hot pants and lucy but i might not draw them unless anyone’s actually interested in this highly niche scenario 😭
PAIRING: coworker!jeno x receptionist!fem!reader
GENRE: fluff, workplace au, coworker au
WARNINGS: swearing, kissing
SYNOPSIS: jaemin is sick of watching jeno yearning for the receptionist and doing nothing about it
WORD COUNT: 2.2k
Jeno gets out of his car, excited to start his day at work. It's not that he enjoys working, but entering and leaving are his favourite parts of working for one reason: you. Even before he enters the door, he can see you at your desk, typing away. As a long-time worker, he never really had motivation to work, but when you started last month, he was willing to arrive early and leave late just for you.
"Hi, Y/N." He says sheepishly, walking up to your desk. You look up and smile at him. He can never stop thinking about that smile, even though it's part of your job. He likes to think it's brighter when you see him.
"Hi, Jeno! How was your meeting yesterday?" You ask, surprising him. Although you had booked a meeting room for him when he arrived yesterday, he was surprised that you asked, as you rarely do. He usually gets too nervous to do more than greet you.
"It was okay. Meetings nowadays are hours long just for nothing to be done, though." He replies, causing you to let out a small laugh. His eyes widen and his smile brightens; he's never seen you laugh and thinks it's the cutest thing ever.
"Okay, I won't keep you for long. See you." You smile as a phone begins to ring. Jeno feels disappointed but understands, nodding at you and walking away. He heads up the elevator to the fifth floor, where he works, and after dropping his briefcase on his desk, he immediately goes next door.
"Jaemin, you won't believe what happened." He says as he walks in, and Jaemin looks up from his computer.
"This better not be your 'Y/N looks so pretty today' bullshit." Jaemin sighs as he takes his glasses off. As cute as it is that his best friend is enamoured by some girl, he does not want to hear the same thing every day.
"I mean she does, but she asked me about my meeting yesterday, and laughed at what I had to say!" Jeno replies excitedly. Jaemin stares at him unamused.
"Bro, when was the last time you talked to a girl?" Jaemin asks with a slight smirk, Jeno scoffing in response. "To normal people, that's just her being nice. If you like her so much, wouldn't you try to talk to her more?" Jaemin continues.
"I don't want to be rejected by someone I see every day at work. That would be too awkward. I'm going now, I don't wanna talk to you anymore." Jeno rolls his eyes as he stands, causing Jaemin to laugh.
When Jeno sits down on his chair, he thinks about Jaemin's words. Should he try talking to you? There's nothing wrong with talking to someone he works with. But would he be okay with your relationship being strictly professional? He doesn't want it to become awkward if he confesses to you.
Jeno was unaware that when he left Jaemin's room, Jaemin was right behind him, heading to the elevator.
As you're on your computer, looking for something to do, you hear footsteps approaching you. You look to the side and see Jaemin from the fifth floor approaching you with a smile. You've spoken to him quite a bit; sometimes, he can be very talkative when he's deep in conversation. Not that you minded. It gets annoying being the only receptionist and having short conversations with people who need something from you.
"Hey, Y/N. You're not too busy right now, right?" Jaemin asks, leaning against your desk. You haven't known Jaemin for long, but you can see a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"No, it's actually pretty slow right now. I was just trying to look busy. Why, what's up?" You ask casually. You're thankful that some people in the company, like Jaemin, are your age. It's nice to speak informally in such a corporate space.
You see a smirk forming on his face, "Why don't you join Jeno and I for lunch today? We always go out for lunch and since we're all the same age, it shouldn't be too awkward. We can pay for you if it's too much of a hassle." You look down when you hear Jaemin's suggestion, your ears reddening.
When you first saw Jeno, you thought he was so handsome. He seemed very quiet, but his tight-lipped smile was the cutest thing to you. You realized how quiet he was, not just to you but to others. When you would see Jeno and Jaemin together, you thought his laughs were adorable. You've always been too scared to say anything, though, scared that he wouldn't want to talk to you for long. This morning, you had to build a lot of confidence to speak to him.
"I'd love to join. It's either become friends with you guys or sit by myself in the cafeteria. You don't have to pay for me, though, it's okay." You say when you look up at him.
"You think he's cute, don't you?" He asks, and you look bewildered. What kind of person asks that? He laughs at your face, seemingly getting his answer. "Alright, we'll come down at noon to pick you up. He doesn't know, by the way. I can't wait to see his face. See you, Y/N!" He waves as he walks away. What an interesting guy, you think to yourself.
As lunchtime approaches, your heart is beating furiously. Jaemin is excited to see how you and Jeno interact, while all Jeno can think about is you, unaware of Jaemin's antics.
Jaemin walks into Jeno's room, waiting for him to pick up his briefcase with a smile on his face, and Jeno notices. "I don't like it when you smile at nothing." He says, turning to him. Jaemin just shrugs and heads to the elevator.
When they reach the lobby, Jeno's first instinct is to look at you. When he makes eye contact with you, he looks down shyly, but when he sees Jaemin's feet heading toward you, he looks up incredulously. He sees you get up from your table with a smile on your face, getting your bag ready. Wait... What's happening? Jeno thinks as he follows Jaemin.
"Jeno, I hope you don't mind that Y/N will be joining us for lunch today." Jaemin smirks at Jeno, while you smile sheepishly. Jeno's eyes widen.
"Of course I wouldn't mind." He smiles at you, trying not to explode as your smile brightens. Jaemin walks away while you and Jeno stare at each other, walking quickly behind him when you realize you're being left alone.
On the walk to the restaurant, Jaemin walks beside you, sandwiching you between him and Jeno as you all talk about work. Whenever you and Jeno brush shoulders or accidentally touch each other's hands, Jaemin tries not to laugh when he sees the red on your faces or the way you quickly look at each other before looking away.
At the restaurant, both you and Jeno ease up as you all start talking about your personal lives. You learn that you all live near each other, blushing when Jaemin suggests that you and Jeno go home together since the two of you finish work at the same time. When you're all done eating, the server approaches with the machine.
"I'll pay for our orders," Jeno says, signaling between the two of you, "and he'll pay for his own." he continues, squinting his eyes slightly at Jaemin when he notices you looking down bashfully. Jaemin smirks, wiping it off his face as soon as Jeno pays, and you bring your face back up.
"Thanks Jeno, you really didn't need to." You smile at him, and Jeno feels himself smiling out of endearment.
"Yeah, you could have paid for mine too." Jaemin adds, rolling his eyes, but the smile on his face is evident. He finds it cute how Jeno is actually making moves on you.
As you all walk back to the office, you feel closer to them. You were excited to see how your friendships with your coworkers would evolve, especially with Jeno.
"You guys are such pussies." Jaemin says to Jeno while you're in the washroom of the restaurant you guys are eating at. It's been three months since the first lunch, and the three of you have been getting lunch all together twice a week. Recently, on the days you get lunch together, Jeno has been dropping you off at home, too.
"I really don't wanna ruin this, Jaemin." Jeno confesses. He'd rather have you as a friend than risk rejection and a changed dynamic.
"It won't be ruined, dumbass. You guys are really oblivious to how you act around each other. Do you think she's being friendly when she lets you drop her off home?" Jaemin rolls his eyes. It was getting on his nerves how nothing was happening when you two have the biggest heart eyes for each other.
"Okay, shut up now." Jeno says as he sees you coming back, smiling when you make eye contact.
Later, when dropping you off at your desk and heading up the elevator, Jaemin decides he's had enough. It feels like Jeno is going off to war when he drops you off at your desk, just for him to go to the fifth floor.
"Jeno. I'm tired of you guys." Jaemin suddenly says, surprising Jeno. He looks at Jaemin, scared of what he says next, "If you don't confess to Y/N by tonight, I will tell her everything tomorrow morning."
Jeno is stunned, freezing in his spot even after the elevator stops. He gets out to follow Jaemin to his office, but Jaemin doesn't allow him to enter.
"What the fuck are you talking about? You wouldn't do that." Jeno replies angrily, feeling betrayed.
"You know I'm not joking. You think I would force you to do this if I didn't think you two would end up together? Just do it and thank me later." Jaemin states before closing his door on Jeno's distraught figure.
Jeno knows Jaemin is just trying to help him build the courage, and he can't blame him. If Jaemin were this annoying about a friend he liked, Jeno would be sick of it too. As he sulks back to his office, he thinks about what he's going to say to you.
When the day ends and he heads down to you, he's still thinking about how to confess to you. He looks at you as he exits the elevator and wants to run away. You grab your bag and turn around to see him standing by the elevator, and he snaps out of his daze when you wave and walk up to him.
"Hey Jeno, are you okay? You look really lost in your thoughts." You say to him, and he feels embarrassed. If only you knew the subject of his thoughts.
"Yeah, sorry about that. Let's go to my car." He smiles apologetically, walking back to the elevator to head to the garage.
The drive was unusually silent. Jeno's knuckles were white from gripping the wheel, and his jaw was clenched. Although he looked unbelievably good, you were worried about Jeno, but you couldn't pressure him to tell you. You had no choice but to awkwardly look out the window.
When you reach your building, it's still awkward. You're unsure whether to say anything. Instead, you take your bag and grab the door handle.
"Wait, Y/N." You hear Jeno say, and you turn to him, letting go of the door. He stares at his feet, looking so conflicted that you feel guilt and fear. Is he about to tell you some bad news? Don't tell me he has a girlfriend, you feel weird for thinking that, but you couldn't help it.
"I've been meaning to confess something..." Your breath hitches as he continues, "Ever since you started working at the company, I haven't stopped thinking about you. Jaemin invited you to lunch with us because I had a massive crush on you, and my feelings for you have only grown stronger since then. I really wasn't planning on telling you cause I was scared and didn't wanna ruin working with you, but Jaemin threatened me to, so yeah."
You sit there in shock, staring at him. You did not expect a confession. Jeno looks up at you, seeing your eyes wide and mouth agape. He starts overthinking, coming to the conclusion that he really messed up.
"I-I like you too. I was also scared to fuck up our work relationship." You quickly respond, scared that you took too long. Jeno's eyes look hopeful, like he's been waiting for this moment. He looks down at your lips quickly, and you also look at his.
You two lean in and your lips meet. You hold Jeno's neck as he holds your shoulders, disappointed that the seats were restraining him. Your lips move together passionately. Jeno pulls your bottom lip with his teeth, making you sigh into the kiss. When you start to lose your breath, you try pulling away, but Jeno chases after you, kissing both of your lips. You squeeze his neck to signal that you're out of breath, and he sadly pulls away.
"I'd love to keep kissing you, but I'm losing my breath." You laugh. Jeno just stares at you lovingly.
"Why don't we go out for dinner right now? Or is that too soon?" He asks hopefully. You find it endearing how excited he is.
"Of course Jeno, I can always find some time for you." You say before kissing his cheek.
Featuring: Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Kageyama, Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Sakusa, Atsumu & Suna
Adult Pro Volleyball AU | Reader is the Junior Player Relations Coordinator
The away tournament had already been a logistical disaster.
A delayed flight. Missing equipment. Three athletes who had somehow boarded the wrong shuttle.
Then the hotel receptionist offered you an apologetic smile and explained that a booking error had left only one room under your reservation.
One room.
One bed.
And one dangerously attractive man from the JPVO standing beside you, looking far less concerned about the arrangement than he had any right to be.
Tetsurō Kuroo
Kuroo handles the mistake with suspicious ease.
He reassures the receptionist, accepts the room key, and places one hand against your lower back as he guides you toward the elevators.
“You’re not going to ask whether they have another room?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“While you were arguing with the airline.”
“And?”
His mouth curves. “Fully booked.”
You narrow your eyes, but he looks far too innocent for a man who has never been innocent once in his life.
The room is elegant, spacious, and furnished with one enormous bed directly in the center.
Kuroo drops his bag onto the floor.
“I’ll take the couch.”
“There isn’t a couch.”
He glances toward the narrow armchair in the corner.
“I’ll take that.”
“You’re six-foot-two.”
“Then I’ll suffer nobly.”
He lasts exactly twenty minutes before you wake to the sound of him shifting uncomfortably.
With a sigh, you lift the blanket.
“Get in.”
Kuroo looks over slowly. “You should be careful offering your boss a place in your bed.”
“It’s sleeping.”
“Of course.”
He slips beneath the covers, keeping a respectable distance between you—until the air conditioning turns the room unbearably cold.
When you wake again, your back is pressed against his chest, one of his arms secured around your waist.
“Kuroo.”
“Mm?”
“You’re holding me.”
His hand spreads lazily over your stomach.
“Must’ve happened in my sleep.”
“You’re awake.”
“Tragic.”
You attempt to move, but his arm tightens.
“Five more minutes,” he murmurs against your neck. “Then we can go back to pretending this is a terrible idea.”
Hajime Iwaizumi
Iwaizumi is immediately frustrated—but not with you.
He calls the travel coordinator, speaks to the front desk manager, and checks three nearby hotels before reluctantly accepting that there are no other available rooms.
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says.
“You’re leading morning training.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t be fine when your back locks up halfway through the team’s warmups.”
His jaw tightens.
The bed is large enough for both of you, but Iwaizumi creates a wall of pillows down the center as though constructing a defensive barricade.
“You know I’m not going to attack you, right?”
“I’m being respectful.”
“You’re acting like I’m dangerous.”
His eyes briefly travel over you in your sleep clothes.
“You are.”
You pretend not to hear that.
Sometime during the night, the pillow barrier collapses. You wake with one leg draped over his thigh and your face tucked against his bare shoulder.
Iwaizumi is awake.
Completely awake.
His hands remain carefully positioned above the blankets, as if touching you might destroy the last of his restraint.
“You could’ve moved me,” you whisper.
“You looked comfortable.”
Your fingers shift against his chest.
His muscles tense beneath your palm.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
Iwaizumi releases a slow breath.
“Not for the reason you think.”
Your gaze lifts to his.
His hand finally settles against your hip.
“Go back to sleep,” he says roughly, “before I forget we have to work together tomorrow.”
Tōru Oikawa
Oikawa is delighted.
He tries to hide it. He truly does.
Unfortunately, the pleased little smile appearing every time you mention the single bed makes his feelings painfully obvious.
“This is not romantic,” you warn as you enter the room.
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You’ve been humming love songs since the elevator.”
“I’m in a musical mood.”
He volunteers to shower first and emerges wearing silk sleep pants and absolutely nothing else.
You stare for half a second too long.
Oikawa catches you.
“My eyes are up here.”
“I was checking whether you stole the hotel robe.”
“With my body?”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re still looking.”
Later, he lies on his side facing you, ignoring the generous amount of empty mattress behind him.
“You’re too close,” you murmur.
“You’re whispering in bed with me. That feels more intimate than the distance.”
“I’m whispering because it’s midnight.”
“Say my name.”
“No.”
His smile turns lazy.
“Then I’ll assume you’re afraid of how it’ll sound.”
You turn your back to him.
Oikawa chuckles softly, but falls quiet when you shiver beneath the blanket.
His body moves closer, warmth settling against your back.
“Tōru.”
He exhales near your ear.
“There it is.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, slipping an arm around your waist, “you said my name exactly the way I hoped you would.”
Tobio Kageyama
Kageyama stares at the bed as though it has personally offended him.
“I’ll sleep in the hallway.”
“You cannot sleep in a hotel hallway.”
“Why not?”
“Because security will remove you.”
He considers sleeping in the bathtub instead.
You forbid that too.
Eventually, Kageyama lies stiffly on the farthest edge of the mattress, fully clothed except for his shoes, staring at the ceiling with both hands folded over his stomach.
“You can relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You look like you’re waiting for surgery.”
His glare only makes you laugh.
During the night, you unconsciously drift toward the warmth of his body. Kageyama wakes to find your head on his chest and your fingers curled into his shirt.
He doesn’t breathe for several seconds.
When you begin to pull away, his hand closes around your wrist.
“Sorry,” you mumble. “I move around in my sleep.”
“It’s fine.”
“You can let go.”
Kageyama looks down at his hand as though surprised to find it there.
He releases you—then immediately catches the blanket and pulls it higher over your shoulder.
“You’re cold.”
“So?”
“So stay there.”
You settle against him again, smiling when his heartbeat speeds beneath your ear.
“Tobio?”
“What?”
“Are you nervous?”
His arm slowly circles your waist.
“Go to sleep.”
Shōyō Hinata
Hinata tries desperately to act mature about the arrangement.
“We’re adults,” he says confidently. “We can share a room without making it weird.”
Then you emerge from the bathroom wearing an oversized sleep shirt.
Hinata walks directly into the closet door.
“Are you okay?”
“Perfect!”
His voice cracks.
He offers to sleep on the floor, but you insist the bed is more than large enough. Hinata lies beside you with a careful gap between your bodies, both hands gripping the blanket beneath his chin.
The room is quiet for approximately three minutes.
“Are you awake?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Another two minutes pass.
“Are you still awake?”
“Yes, Shōyō.”
“Okay.”
You roll toward him, amused.
His face is barely visible in the darkness, but you can see how wide his eyes become.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re acting strange.”
“You smell nice.”
The confession leaves both of you silent.
Hinata covers his face with one hand.
“I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.”
You laugh and move closer, resting your head against his shoulder.
His body immediately relaxes.
“Better?”
“Much worse,” he admits.
His arm settles around you anyway.
By morning, you’re almost completely on top of him, and Hinata is awake beneath you, staring at the ceiling with a helpless smile.
“You look pleased,” you mumble.
“I’m having a really good morning.”
Kōtarō Bokuto
Bokuto announces that he’ll sleep on the floor.
Five minutes later, he changes his mind because the carpet is “suspiciously hard.”
The two of you agree to share the bed with strict rules: no stealing blankets, no crossing the center line, and absolutely no bothering each other.
Bokuto breaks every rule before midnight.
First, he steals the blanket.
Then he rolls across the imaginary boundary.
Finally, he begins whispering your name until you open your eyes.
“What?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Try closing your eyes.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I kept thinking about how you’re right there.”
You stare at him.
Bokuto grins sheepishly.
“You’re supposed to keep thoughts like that to yourself.”
“I’m bad at that.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He shifts closer until your knees brush beneath the covers.
“Can I hold you?”
The direct question catches you off guard.
“For sleeping,” he adds quickly. “Unless you wanted-”
“Stop talking.”
You turn over and allow him to wrap himself around you.
Bokuto makes a pleased sound against the back of your neck.
“This is nice.”
“It would be nicer if you stopped breathing on me.”
“I can hold my breath.”
“Don’t do that.”
His arms tighten.
“You care about me.”
“I care about avoiding paperwork if you pass out.”
“Still counts.”
In the morning, the alarm begins ringing on the bedside table. Bokuto reaches across you to silence it, trapping you beneath his body.
Neither of you moves after the room becomes quiet.
“Morning,” he murmurs.
Your fingers curl against his shoulders.
“You’re heavy.”
“You don’t sound upset about it.”
Wakatoshi Ushijima
Ushijima accepts the situation without hesitation.
“The bed is sufficient for two people.”
“That isn’t the issue.”
“What is the issue?”
You stare at him.
His expression remains genuinely confused.
He changes into a plain black shirt and athletic shorts, then places two pillows between you without being asked.
“I will remain on my side.”
“Thank you.”
Ushijima keeps his promise.
You do not.
Sometime during the night, you roll across the pillows and curl against his side. He wakes immediately but makes no attempt to move you.
Instead, he carefully pulls the blanket over your exposed shoulder.
In the morning, you find his hand resting securely against the small of your back.
“I crossed the barrier,” you realize.
“Yes.”
“You could have pushed me away.”
“I did not want to.”
His thumb moves once against your spine.
You swallow.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Not after you touched me.”
Your face warms.
“I’m sorry.”
Ushijima studies you quietly.
“I am not.”
His hand presses you slightly closer.
“We still have thirty minutes before breakfast.”
The suggestion is delivered with his usual calm honesty, making it infinitely more dangerous.
“What are you proposing?”
“That you remain here.”
His gaze lowers to your mouth.
“Preferably without the pillows between us.”
Kiyoomi Sakusa
Sakusa spends ten minutes inspecting the room before touching anything.
He checks the sheets, disinfects the remote, wipes down every handle, and calls the front desk to request fresh pillowcases.
“You know we’re only here for one night.”
“That is already one night too many.”
You assume he’ll insist on separate sleeping arrangements.
Instead, after sanitizing the entire mattress, he points toward your side.
“Do not cross the center.”
“Are you worried I’ll contaminate you?”
“You’ve spent all day touching athletes.”
“So have you.”
“I regret it.”
He sleeps facing away from you, but when the room becomes cold, you wake to find him much closer than before.
Your fingers accidentally brush the warm skin where his shirt has ridden up.
Sakusa inhales sharply.
“Sorry,” you whisper.
“You’re cold.”
Before you can answer, he turns, takes your wrist, and places your hand beneath his shirt again.
Your palm rests against his stomach.
“Omi?”
“Warm your hand.”
“You have another one.”
He takes that wrist too, positioning both hands against his skin.
“This doesn’t feel very sanitary.”
His eyes narrow in the darkness.
“Do you want me to move them?”
You slowly spread your fingers.
Sakusa’s breath catches.
“No,” you admit.
His arm curls around your waist.
“Then stop complaining.”
Atsumu Miya
Atsumu starts flirting before the receptionist finishes explaining the mistake.
“One room?” he repeats. “Only one?”
The receptionist nods apologetically.
Atsumu turns toward you with the expression of a man who has just won the lottery.
“Don’t,” you warn.
“I haven’t said anything.”
“Your face said enough.”
The moment you enter the room, he throws himself across the bed and pats the space beside him.
“Come test it.”
“I’m sleeping on the chair.”
“That little thing? Ya’ll wake up folded in half.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Or,” he says, stretching lazily, “ya could sleep next to me like a normal person.”
You eventually agree, but make him build a pillow barrier.
Atsumu spends the next hour slowly stealing every pillow.
“You’re doing that deliberately.”
“Doing what?”
“You have six pillows.”
“I like support.”
“You don’t need six.”
“Come take one.”
You reach across him, only for Atsumu to catch you around the waist and pull you on top of him.
His grin fades when your faces end up inches apart.
“Got it,” he murmurs.
“Give me the pillow.”
“I wasn’t talking about the pillow.”
His hands remain firmly against your hips.
You should move.
Instead, your gaze drops to his mouth.
Atsumu notices.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Keep looking at me like that and the hotel’s gonna receive a noise complaint.”
You shove a pillow over his face.
His laughter follows you all the way back to your side of the bed.
Rintarō Suna
Suna takes one photograph of the single bed and sends it to Atsumu without explanation.
Your phone begins receiving messages within seconds.
“Delete that.”
“Too late.”
“What did he say?”
Suna turns his screen away. “Nothing helpful.”
He changes into a loose shirt and settles beneath the covers as though sharing a bed with you is the most ordinary arrangement in the world.
“You’re not nervous at all?”
“Should I be?”
“No.”
“You sound disappointed.”
You lie down with your back to him.
Suna waits until you become comfortable before speaking again.
“You talk in your sleep?”
“No.”
“Kick?”
“No.”
“Cuddle?”
You glance over your shoulder.
“Don’t find out.”
His mouth curves.
Hours later, you wake with Suna pressed against your back, his arm lying heavily across your waist.
“Suna.”
No answer.
You try lifting his arm.
His grip tightens.
“I know you’re awake.”
“Prove it.”
“You’re talking.”
“Could be sleep-talking.”
You turn in his arms until you’re facing him.
Suna’s eyes are already open, watching you with sleepy amusement.
“You crossed onto my side.”
“You came looking for me first.”
“I did not.”
He reaches toward the nightstand and picks up his phone.
On the screen is a photograph of you curled against his chest, one hand tangled in his shirt.
“You took a picture of me sleeping?”
“For evidence.”
“Delete it.”
Suna slips his phone beneath his pillow.
“You’ll have to convince me.”
You move closer.
His expression changes immediately.
“Is this convincing?”
His hand slides slowly along your waist.
“Good start.”
Off the Court: Haikyuu!! AU by Livi | Read more on Freeroam
part five - "do it or the office finds out about the vegas off-site photos!"
can we keep each other company?
their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!
word count: 4.2K
chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are silly and unserious, , ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, OBLIVIOUSNESS LMAO, yeah you might feel like screaming at the screen i know, i know, so much tension. farewell party, karaoke!!!!!!!!
notes: excited to know your feedback hehe, enjoy!!!! <3
moodboard • playlist • series masterlist
You woke up from your afternoon nap with a series of tings coming from your phone.
It was the day. JK’s official farewell party but only with the ‘survivors’ gang. Sometimes you wondered who even came up with that group name.
Oh wait.
It was you. Definitely you.
At one point it was only you, Yuna, Mingyu, Iseul, Yoongi and Taehyung. You had made the group after a very exhausting day and were done with the whole bullshit of this company and almost at the verge of quitting the job. And at one point you did.
Exactly a month later, Jungkook was hired. At first you found him a little annoying (still do), since he was always loud, joking around and not taking things seriously.
It was a notion and you knew you were judgemental of him and boy did he prove you wrong.
You remember it was a Tuesday afternoon in June, three weeks into his tenure. The office was in full-blown panic mode because a high-profile client had just pulled out of a campaign launch for Burberry, leaving a gaping hole in the production schedule. Everyone was frantic. You were buried under spreadsheets, your hands shaking from the sheer volume of work, while Natasha was hovering—literally pacing behind your chair like a predatory bird.
Jungkook, who you’d pegged as the "office clown" who would flake at the first sign of real pressure, had walked in with a stack of files and a calm that was frankly annoying.
He hadn't joked once. He hadn't asked for a coffee break. He had simply looked at your monitor, assessed the disaster, and started delegating with a quiet authority that made even someone like Natasha stop pacing. He’d spent the next six hours working beside you, sharing his snacks with you, handling the client's angry calls, and effectively saving the project from imploding.
That was the moment. The realization that he wasn't just "there." He was a pillar.
You shook the memory away, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you got ready for The Den. You were wearing something simple—a black dress that you knew you could move in, something that didn't feel like a costume.
Your phone chimed again and it was the groupchat.
shane (work): The Den is crowded. I’ve secured the corner booth. Don't be late!
You grabbed your bag and headed out. The walk to the bar felt longer than usual, the cool evening air doing little to settle the nervous fluttering in your chest.
When you pushed through the doors of The Den, the music hit you, a low, rhythmic bass that seemed to vibrate in your bones. It didn't take long to spot them. The "Survivors" were already in full swing, a loud, chaotic circle of laughter and clinking glasses. And there, right in the middle, sat Jungkook.
He looked different out of his office clothes. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, his hair slightly messy, and he was laughing at something Taehyung had said.
As if he could feel your eyes on him, he turned.
His eyes locked onto yours, and the noise of the bar seemed to instantly drop away. His smile shifted, losing that performative, "farewell party" edge and becoming something softer, something that made your breath hitch. He patted the empty space on the bench beside him, a silent invitation that felt far more significant than it had any right to be.
The two of you didn’t know but both Yuna and Namjoon had seen this little interaction.
You walked over, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs, and sat down.
"You made it," he said, his voice just audible over the music. He leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne; something crisp and familiar washing over you.
"Wouldn't miss the chance to see you get roasted," you replied, trying to keep your tone light, but your voice betrayed you, sounding breathless even to your own ears.
Jungkook didn't pull back. He just watched you, his gaze roaming over your face as if he were memorizing it. "I'm glad," he whispered. "I was worried you wouldn't come."
“Now why would you feel that?” You asked a little confused, raising your eyebrows.
For a second there you saw him falter. It was very rare when Jungkook didn’t have an answer ready.
“Only because you are...” he stopped. Why is he not saying the whole thing?
You looked at him expecting him to complete that sentence.
Before he could, Shane came and sat next to you and said, “Girl why are you wearing black? This is a farewell and not a funeral,” and immediately the whole table let out a loud laugh.
Shane’s joke about the funeral was loud, drawing a chorus of snickers from the group. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your shoulders dropping.
"Very funny, Shane," you muttered, though a laugh bubbled up despite yourself. You took a seat, and for a moment, the bar felt like the only world that existed. Jungkook was right there, his shoulder brushing yours, the low hum of conversation swirling around you like a cocoon.
He turned to you, his expression shifting from amusement back to that intense focus. "You look nice," he said, his voice dropping below the roar of the loud pop music playing. It wasn't the teasing tone he usually adopted, it was just... observation.
Your heart did that treacherous flip again. You opened your mouth to give him a sarcastic comeback about his leather jacket, when Mingyu spoke up.
"Alright," Mingyu announced, standing up on the bench and raising his glass, his eyes bright with drink and affection. "We are not letting this man leave without a trip down memory lane. Best Jungkook moment—go!"
You watched as the group leaned in, a collective buzz of energy taking over.
"Oh, it has to be the time he tried to fix the printer," Iseul started, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "He literally disassembled the entire thing in the accounts room because he thought he heard a 'weird noise,' and then had to call maintenance because he couldn't put the rollers back."
"Hey!" Jungkook defended, laughing into his drink. "I was trying to be efficient!"
"Efficient? You paralyzed our whole department for two hours!" Hoseok countered, a wide, genuine grin spreading across his face. "But, honestly? My favorite was the 'Emergency Coffee Run' during that blizzard. Everyone else had left, and you came back with a tray of lattes balanced on a cardboard box like it was a holy offering."
"I was just looking out for the team," Jungkook said, his voice dropping an octave, a soft look crossing his face.
Taehyung chimed in, "What about the time you convinced Natasha that you were fluent in French just to get out of a meeting, and then she actually put you on a call with a French client?"
That immediately made you laugh.
"The silence on that call was the loudest thing I've ever heard," Jin wheezed, clutching his stomach. "Jungkook just kept saying 'Oui, oui' until the client hung up in confusion."
The group erupted. Even Yoongi, usually the most stoic of the bunch, was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. You watched Jungkook through the haze of the bar, his head thrown back in genuine, uninhibited joy. This wasn't the office Jungkook who was constantly checking his watch; this was the guy who had been your partner, your sounding board, and your sanity-saver for the last two years.
"Your turn, ___," Mingyu said, nudging you with his elbow. The table went quiet, waiting.
You cleared your throat, feeling all eyes on you—especially Jungkook’s. You looked at him, really looked at him, and realized you didn't want to pick a funny story.
"The Burberry launch," you said, your voice steady. "When the client pulled out and we were staring at an empty schedule. I thought I was going to lose my mind. And you just... walked in. You didn't panic. You just started working." You looked down at your hands, then back up at him. "You made me feel like we weren't just a failing project. You made me feel like we were a team."
The air in the booth shifted. The laughter died down, replaced by a soft, warm silence. Jungkook’s expression softened, his thumb brushing against the rim of his glass.
“See,” Shane whispered, nudging you with his elbow, his voice just loud enough for the table to hear. “I told you it was a love story.”
You felt the blood drain from your face, followed immediately by a sharp prickle of heat. You whipped your head around, eyes wide, and shot Shane a look.
“Excuse me?” you hissed, your voice tight.
The table didn't erupt; they just chuckled. Jimin rolled his eyes, taking a swig of his drink. “Oh, relax. He’s just being dramatic.”
Jungkook was sitting perfectly still. He didn't laugh, and he didn't join in the teasing. He simply watched you, his glass frozen halfway to his lips, his expression unreadable. For a heartbeat, the air in the booth felt heavy, like it was pulling the oxygen out of the room. He didn’t deny it, but he didn't confirm it either; he just held your gaze with an intensity that made you feel like you were standing in a spotlight.
Finally, Shane cleared his throat, sensing the air had gone a bit thin and your expression. If looks could kill, Shane knew it was this one.
“No, no, wait, I mean, the love story between Jungkook and the client,” Shane backtracked, though his grin was still mischievous. “Because we all know that event was saved because Jungkook was the only one who could handle a client like Jihoon. Not even our CEO Kim Song, who is in fact her friend and the reason we even got this project, could handle her.”
A ripple of laughter went through the table, light, casual, and oh so oblivious.
You let out a breath you hadn't realised you were holding. This was getting awkward.
“Seriously,” Jin muttered, sliding a microphone toward the center of the table. “And honestly? I think we’ve had enough ‘sentimental’ talk for one night. Who’s ready to kill my ears with some bad singing?”
The mood snapped back to the usual party chaos and you were thankful. As the group began to filter out of the booth toward the karaoke stage, you stayed back for a second to grab your bag.
“You looked really panicked there, ___,” a low voice said.
You jumped slightly, turning to find Namjoon standing by the edge of the table, his expression thoughtful as he watched the rest of the group already starting to belt out a song. He wasn't teasing, he was just observing, that calm, steady gaze of his making you feel like he could see through every one of your defenses.
“I just don’t like being the butt of the joke, Joon,” you said, forcing a casual shrug as you slung your bag over your shoulder.
Namjoon hummed, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. He didn’t push, didn't pry; he just nodded, his eyes shifting toward the stage where Jungkook was already grabbing a mic. “Fair enough. Come on, let’s go join the chaos.”
You followed him to the front, taking a seat at a different table to watch the performance. As the karaoke started, you watched Jungkook. He was loud, he was dancing badly, and he was acting like the life of the party—but you couldn't shake the memory of how still he had been in the booth. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, focusing intently on the lyrics, desperately trying to convince yourself that the rapid thumping in your chest was just the bass of the music.
It’s nothing, you reminded yourself. It’s just a farewell for a friend. Nothing more.
The mood was still heavy with that "almost" moment when suddenly, the air in the bar shifted. The opening notes of "Wiggle" by Jason Derulo blasted through the speakers.
Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung froze immediately and next to you Iseul bursted laughing.
"Wiggle! Wiggle! Wiggle!" Dae and Iseul chanted in unison.
"Get up there, you three!" Jin shrieked, physically shoving Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung toward the small stage.
Jungkook looked like a deer in headlights, laughing and protesting, "Guys, no! This place isn't ready for that kind of iconicity! We are absolutely not doing the choreography!"
"Do it or the office finds out about the Vegas off-site photos!" Yoongi threatened, brandishing his phone. Yoongi was so drunk.
The three of them looked offended and it was a funny sight.
The boys shuffled onto the stage, gave it a half-hearted, awkward attempt at the choreography by mostly just swaying and shoulder-shrugging.
As the beat dropped, the three of them—who were, mind you, supposed to be respectable professionals—immediately fell into a routine that was simultaneously offensive to the art of dance and a masterpiece of comedic timing. They weren't just singing; they were committing. The "wiggle" moves were exaggerated, borderline violent, and perfectly synchronized, a testament to the absolute chaos of that Vegas trip.
The bar was roaring, but your table was the loudest. Iseul was filming with her phone, gasping for air, while Hoseok and Dae were mimicking the moves in their seats, nearly knocking over their drinks.
You watched Jungkook,the same guy who had looked at you with such intensity a moment ago,now gyrating aggressively while Jimin and Taehyung tried to out-do him in ridiculousness. It was stupid. It was childish. It was the absolute highlight of your year.
"Look at them!" Namjoon shouted over the music, wiping genuine tears from his eyes. "Those are the brightest minds in our company, ladies and gentlemen!"
By the time the song ended, the three of them were panting, red-faced, and laughing harder than anyone else. Jungkook stumbled off the stage, his hair a total wreck, looking back at the group with a grin that could light up the entire block.
But before he could catch his breath, two girls from a nearby table slid into the vacated spots right beside him. They were loud and not-so-subtly flirting, their hands lingering on his arm maybe talking about what just happened on the floor.
You felt a sharp, icy prick of annoyance. You took a long, steady sip of your drink, trying to look bored. You were in fact nonchalant as the kids say.
Across the table, Yuna caught your eye, her mouth curling into a knowing smirk and mouthed ‘subtle’ and you rolled your eyes at her.
"Alright, break it up, ladies," Mingyu said, his voice firm as he stood up. "The guest of honor needs to focus on his cake."
Jungkook looked relieved. He scrambled out of the booth, his eyes immediately seeking yours. He collapsed into the seat right next to you, leaving no space between you.
"Thank god," he exhaled. "I thought I was going to be trapped there for the rest of the night."
"You could have just said you were boring," you teased.
He turned to face you, ignoring the room entirely. "I'm not boring. I was just waiting for the right person to join in."
Before you could respond to whatever the hell that was, Dae cleared his throat and wheeled over the cake box. As Jungkook opened it, his face lit up at the Ferrari F1 car, boxing gloves, and music notes.
"You did this?" Jungkook asked, looking at you rather than the cake.
"I did with everyone’s help," you said, smiling. You remembered the planning and asking for ideas and how in a family sort of way everyone came together.
The rest of the group was busy cheering, their voices fading into a dull roar. Jungkook smiled at you. A genuine smile.
“Okay, okay, now cut your cake,” You smiled and told him. Mingyu lit up the candle and for a moment it all froze.
You saw him, smiling, and while the rest of the gang looked back at him smiling. It was the perfect moment. A happy moment. The melancholy didn't even matter right now, at this moment.
The cake was a resounding success. After the frenzy of the F1 car design and the "Survivors" devouring every last crumb, the energy in the booth began to settle. The group drifted into smaller clusters, laughing and finishing their drinks.
It was the kind of night that felt like a quiet ending to an era. You sat back, feeling a strange, hollow sense of peace, watching Jungkook across the table. He was leaning back, talking to Yoongi and Yuna, his expression relaxed, looking every bit like the guy you’d worked alongside for two years.
Eventually, the group started to disperse. Jimin and Taehyung were the first to stand, followed by Iseul and Hoseok. One by one, the "Survivors" offered their goodbyes, and dreading Monday.
Finally, it was just you, Jungkook, and a few lingering stragglers near the exit.
You stood up, smoothing down your black dress. "Well," you said, your voice soft. "That’s that. Farewell party, officially done and dusted."
Jungkook stood up with you. He looked at you, his eyes lingering on your face as if he were trying to memorize your expression in the dim bar lighting. "Yeah," he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register that always made your pulse jump.
The air between you felt thick, charged with all the things you hadn't said. He reached out, his thumb picking out a small lash on that was on your cheek you held your breath, and he softly said “Make a wish”. You took a deep breath.
You wish you knew what this was.
Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.
The vibration of your phone shattered the moment. You scrambled to grab it, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
Dia (Calling)...
You sighed, your shoulders slumping with immediate, weary frustration. You looked at Jungkook, who still had his hand hovering near your face, looking slightly dazed by the interruption.
"It's Dia," you breathed, shaking your head. "She’s probably out somewhere and can't find her way home. Give me a second."
You swiped, pressing the phone to your ear, ready to deliver a lecture. "Dia? What is it? I told you, I was out."
"I… I think I drank way too much," your sister’s voice came through, thick, slurred, and laughably uncoordinated. "And I don't know where I am. Everything is spinning."
The frustration vanished, replaced by that familiar, protective concern. You frowned, glancing at Jungkook. He had stopped, his expression shifting from that vulnerable, soft gaze to one of immediate, focused alertness.
"Dia, stay right there. Send me your location now," you commanded, your voice sharpening.
You hung up, and before you could explain, Jungkook was already grabbing his jacket. He didn't wait for you to ask. He signaled to Namjoon and Mingyu—who were the last two still lingering—with a quick nod that said emergency.
"I'm driving," he said, moving toward the door, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. "Where is she?"
"She’s at that lounge, The Velvet," you said, your voice tight. "It’s about fifteen minutes away."
The biting chill was doing nothing to calm your nerves. You were already fumbling with your phone, your thumb trembling as you pulled up the map Dia had just texted.
Jungkook was already walking toward his car, his stride long and purposeful. He didn't ask how you were feeling, or if you were okay; he just unlocked the passenger door and gestured for you to get in. As soon as you were buckled, the engine roared to life. He didn't hesitate, pulling into the flow of traffic with a smooth, controlled intensity that felt completely different from the chaotic, joking guy you’d seen on the karaoke stage just an hour ago.
The silence in the car wasn't empty; it was heavy with the echo of this whole night. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur, your mind racing between your sister's slurred voice and the lingering sensation of his thumb against your jaw.
"She'll be fine," Jungkook said, his eyes fixed on the road, though he reached over and briefly brushed his hand against yours. It was a grounding gesture, steady and warm.
"She knows better," you muttered, leaning your head back against the seat. "She’s going to get an earful the second I see her."
"Maybe," he agreed, a small, knowing smirk touching his lips. "But I have a feeling you're going to be more relieved than angry once we see her."
The drive seemed to pass in a blur of dimmed streetlights and minimal conversation. When he finally pulled up to the curb in front of The Velvet, you saw her. Dia was sitting on the low stone wall outside the entrance, head in her hands, looking absolutely gone.
You were out of the car before he had even put it in park.
"Dia!" you called out, hurrying over.
She looked up, squinting through the neon light, her hair a disheveled mess. When she saw you, a goofy, lopsided smile broke across her face. Then, her eyes drifted to the person walking up behind you.
Jungkook had stepped out of the car, his leather jacket draped over his shoulders, looking effortlessly sharp even after the night’s antics. He stopped a few feet back, giving you space, but his presence was impossible to ignore.
Diya’s eyes widened, her drunken daze momentarily replaced by a look of profound, chaotic recognition. She stood up, swaying slightly, and pointed a wobbly finger at him.
"Oh my god," she slurred, her voice loud enough to turn heads. "It's the... the office husband!"
You felt your face go searingly hot. "Dia, shut up! You are drunk."
"I am not!" she protested, trying to look offended but failing spectacularly. She stumbled toward you, grabbing your arm for balance, but her eyes stayed locked on Jungkook. "You!" she shouted at him, giggling. "You’re the one who calls her every time the printer breaks, right? I know all about you!"
Jungkook let out a low, amused laugh, his shoulders shaking. He walked forward, stepping into the light, and offered Dia his arm to help her steady herself.
"Nice to finally meet you, Dia," he said, his voice smooth, completely unfazed by her outburst. He looked at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mischief and affection. "I think your sister is right. We should probably get you home before you start spilling any more company secrets."
You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You looked at Jungkook, terrified of his reaction, but he just shook his head, his gaze meeting yours with a soft, steady warmth.
"Let's get her in the car," he said, ignoring her comment entirely, though you didn't miss the way his hand lingered on the small of your back.
He’s playing it cool, you thought, even as your heart hammered against your ribs. He’s playing it so, so cool.
The drive to your apartment was far more subdued than the chaos at the bar. Dia had slumped into the backseat, her earlier sharp-tongued observations replaced by a drowsy, quiet contentment.
When he pulled up to your building, he came around to help you usher Dia inside. The lobby was empty and quiet. It was a strange, intimate scene—the three of you in the small, mirrored elevator, Jungkook supporting most of Dia’s weight while you fumbled with your keys.
Inside your apartment, it took only a few minutes to get Dia settled onto the couch. She was mostly out, her breathing even. You stepped back out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind you, the silence of the corridor feeling heavy.
You looked up at Jungkook, the apology bubbling up in your throat.
"I am so sorry," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "For the interruption, for dragging you out here, and for whatever nonsense she was saying in the car. That dumbass...gets weird when she's had too much."
Jungkook was leaning against the wall, his hands tucked deep into his pockets, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made the hallway feel like it was closing in. He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable and calm, his usual playful mask firmly in place.
"She wouldn't be the first person to say things like that," he said, his voice dropping into that low, even tone that gave nothing away. He didn't confirm or deny a single thing; he just shrugged it off as if it were just more drunken rambling he'd heard a thousand times before. "Don't worry about it."
He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you. The air shifted, becoming electric. He looked at you, not with a confession, but with a gaze that felt heavy and intentional. It was happening a lot tonight.
He hugged you.
What were you expecting?
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and daring, but his expression remained cool and unshaken.
"Goodnight, you are tired," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against your ear. "Text me if you need anything."
He turned on his heel and walked toward the elevator, leaving you standing there in the silence of the hallway while your heart was hammering against your ribs.
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In The Quiet Between Us - Ju Ji-Hoon X Reader X Choo Young-Woo
CHAPTERS: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN
Main Characters:
Ju Ji-hoon (CEO) - 45, enigmatic, poised, dominant. Public image: calm, refined, untouchable. Private self? Caged chaos, precision, hunger. Has a strict no-dating policy… until her.
You (Reader!Employee) - 25, a corporate strategist at an enterntainment company. Vanilla, career-obsessed, cautious. Never knew submission could feel like liberation. Until him.
Choo Young-Woo (Employee) - 32, empathetic, poised, comforting, Public image: Career focused, sweet, shy, ambivert. Private self? Soft, yearns in silent, patient. Wants nothing but to care for her, protect her.
Themes:
Age gap (20 years and 7 years)
Power imbalance (celebrity x corporate staff)
Forbidden workplace romance
BDSM x vanilla dynamic
Soft to intense smut
Emotional unraveling
Public facade vs private surrender
ANGST ANGST ANGST
SLOW BURN
YEARNINGGGG
So much miscommunication
Red flag Ji-Hoon (I know he's far from it I am sorry yall)
A/N: This story is completely fictional with absolutely no relevance to the characters' real life persona or personal lives. It is meant for enterntainment purposes only and is not to be taken literally. Thank you.
You were warned.
"Don't stare."
"Don't engage unless spoken to."
"And never—never—flirt with Mr. Ju."
Which was fine, really. You had better things to do than pine over your new boss, even if he was obscenely sculpted in a black turtleneck, his bone structure seeming engineered in a lab. You were there to finalize the budget approval for a global campaign shoot, not drool over his fingers as they leisurely swirled his espresso.
But he noticed.
He noticed everything.
"You work in finance?" His voice was velvet over marble, smooth but cold.
You nodded, startled that he’d spoken to you at all. "Strategy team. I'm here for the contract review."
“Hmm.” His eyes didn’t waver. “And yet you look like someone who’d rather control people than numbers.”
Your pulse stuttered.
"I'm sorry?"
“Apologies,” he said smoothly. “You just… hold yourself like someone who’s never been told what to do.”
Based on this post. Dear anon, whoever you are… thank you. Because I can not stop thinking about this au!
I feel like if Danny wasn’t so fucked up he would be a very majestic long haired cat, now he’s just hairy according to knockout xD I hope I caught the crusty cat with a crunchy meow vibes well
Me and @playedcrowd5610 where talking about it and we think it’d be fun if the decepticons where lawyers/worked at a law firm and the autobots where cops, their humans being police dogs either in training (Raf) fresh out of training (Jack and Miko) or seniors (Fowler) so if I draw more I’ll definitely try to get the doggos in there lol
warnings: slight reference to bleeding and small injuries, fluff kinda, mutual pining, but both are oblivious.
wc: 3.2k
you had started working at the BAU for almost a year. almost exactly a year. your first day on the job was the 4th of january, you recalled. it was an intimidating first place to start working at, being surrounded by some of the country's most talented profilers and authority figures all older than you, but you couldn't help but feel right at home with these people, the same ones who were offering you a beer in that exact moment.
"you know, now that i think about it, i don't think i've ever seen y/n drink." emily points out, not in a rude or standoffish way, just in an emily prentiss sarcastic kind of way.
you noticed the team's heads slowly turning to you and you suddenly felt very seen. "wait... you're right, how come we've never witnessed such event?" morgan adds.
you jokingly roll your eyes and sigh dramatically earning them a laugh. being the youngest in the team had its perks, until it came to moments like these. "ha ha. i drink a bunch, just not around you..." you remark with your voice getting lower and less believable as you finished your sentence. the team scoffs and you notice in the corner of your eye spencer softly grinning. he was the only one not laughing. not that you minded them taking the piss out of you, it was just nice to know that the retired youngest in the group sort of had your back and didn't seem to want to make you feel stupid.
sometimes you wondered how he felt about you taking his 'place' in the team as the youngest. did he mind? was he bothered with your presence? did your voice irritate him? these thoughts crossed your mind regularly when you would as much stand beside him. you didn't want to be disliked, especially not by him. you didn't know why, you wanted to make a good impression in front of him and never let your guard down around him. he seemed to do that too, in a way. the times you had been left alone, you either talked about work or listened to him ramble about his fun facts. you din't mind, though. something about the way he spoke so passionately about things he cared and had knowledge about made you interested too, making you listen to every word he said with careful attention and care. you found yourself going home every day researching about things he said that day, and would greet him the next day with a warm smile, thinking about what new topic he was going to introduce you to.
seeing him grin that way made you shy... you didn’t know why though. you grew conscious of the heat forming in your cheeks and excused yourself quickly by going to the bathroom in hurried and clumsied steps.
as you felt the cold water hit your face, you thought about how you truly hadn't drunk in front of your colleagues. well. except for that one time with penelope when she invited you over to her house and you got so drunk you ended up in the ER... all it took? two beer. two beers knocked you out cold. the entire situation of ending up in the hospital with garcia holding your hand and almost laughing in your face as you woke up made you coerce her into never ever telling the story of the time you embarrassed yourself in your first month working at the BAU in front of one of your colleagues. she would then proceed to laugh some more, but even pinky swear that she would never tell a soul.
you looked in the mirror briefly after drying your face and dried it swiftly with a paper towel, in order for your colleagues to not worry about your delay.
picking up your flip phone on the sink, you open the door, and immediately notice a change in the environment. the whole space has gone quiet and when you enter the room you’d been celebrating earlier on, was empty. you look around trying to see if anyone had left a note, but nothing.
‘maybe they left already?…’ you think to yourself sitting down. ‘i should probably wait’
and so you do. 2 minutes turn into 5, and then into 10. after some time of waiting you decide to gather your things and get going, accepting that they’re not coming back.
you double check the entire place making sure everything is locked before texting garcia making sure they weren’t coming back.
inattentively, you open the door of entrance to the building and as you begin to step out your body almost crashes against someone’s. the tall frame in front of you scares you and you look down trying to regain your composure. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you!” the recognizable voice exclaimed genuinely. you immediately look up and there it is, the tight lipped smile on the face of the one and only spencer reid.
grinning at your own reaction you playfully hit him in the chest and exhale. “if i had hiccups before, i definitely don’t have them now.” you joked.
spencer manages out a chuckle. “you know, that’s funny. contrary to popular belief, scares never actually helped with hiccups. i mean they happen because the diaphragm spasms, so in theory, scaring someone with hiccups, would probably be worse.” spencer explained with almost no breath pauses in between. you raised your eyebrows and listened to what he said conscientiously while giving him an awkward yet sincere smile.
“then what should one do when with hiccups?” you asked hoping it’d sound genuine, although it had come out a bit sarcastic.
“holding your breath for 10 seconds seems to be a success for most people. but then again, there isn’t a medical cure for hiccups.” he finished.
“yet…” the second that word had come out of your mouth, your body cringed. you felt your body shrinking in front of him and immediately regretted what you’d said to him. ‘sometimes i just need to shut up and that’s okay’
to your surprise, that response earned you a grin from spencer, which made you feel better straight away. it was embarrassing how nervous you’d get whenever you were around this man. all your life you’d been able to analyze people from the get go, but it was different with him. he was like, almost impossible to read, never knowing what he was thinking or what he’d do next. eventually, you’d gotten used to the unpredictability of spencer reid’s mind, but to say it didn’t still bother you a bit that you didn’t know much about him, was a huge understatement.
snapping out of it, you recompose yourself. “but anyway, what are you doing here? i thought all of the team had left when i went to the bathroom.” you pointed out.
“oh uh hotch was drunk out of his mind and the others opted to take him home before he puked.” he nervously answered. his answer made you wonder. you’d been a relatively short amount of time with the team but you knew that hotch wasn’t much of a drinker.
“hotch? he was drunk?” you instigated and spencer nodded scratching his neck. “he didn’t seem drunk earlier when i left.” you thought out loud to yourself. “but either way, why are you here?” the million dollar question. you could only hope that your question didn’t sound too brute.
“oh, see i…” he looked nervous trying to reply. you gave him a worried look and he exhaled right after. “i didn’t want to leave you alone and confused as to why they’d left you” spencer honestly responded.
your heart warmed at the reply and you could feel a slight flush on your cheeks and ears. you tried to speak but spencer was quicker and spoke first. “i also know that new year’s is one of the only festivities you celebrate, so if you were alone for it, i don’t think i could forgive myself.” hearing those words coming out of his mouth made you feel your heart beat out of your chest and quite sincerely, wondering if he could even hear the sound. your lips were parted and your eyes on his face, almost dumbfounded.
suddenly you were aware of your every bodily reaction and you looked down to shield yourself. ‘why do i feel like this’ was all that was running through your mind as you tried your best to act as normal as possible.
you stood tall and looked back at him with flustered cheeks but managed to say: “that’s… really considerate of you. thank you spence.” working to softly smile at him, you looked down briefly, and when you suddenly remember the time, you scavenge through your bag in an attempt to find your flip phone.
"everything okay?" spencer asks as you continue to search.
"yeah, it's just-" you groan. "my stupid phone..." you take a deep breath and take your hand out of your bag to look at him. he's not wearing his glasses like he usually is, in fact, you wonder if he's using contacts. either way, he looks handsome. handsome? maybe that's a strong word, and probably an inappropriate one, considering he's your co-worker. but what other word can you use to describe how he looks right there in front of you without sounding unprofessional? only when you hear a car passing down the street do you snap back into reality and panic once again. "do you by any chance know what time it is?" you inquire, swiftly running your fingers through your hair.
"11:49" he answers almost immediately. for a moment you think to ask how he knows the time from the top of his head, you even contemplate if he's just messing with you. however, the short time you'd known spencer, had told you enough about how he wasn't a liar, and if he were one? he'd be a damn bad one, that's for sure.
with all the bars around town being packed and your apartment being 20 minutes away, you had no idea of how you would spend the year's passage. sure, you could always wait inside until the clock hit 12:00 am, like how the team was planning to do, but now it was different because you were with him alone, and you weren't good with small talk.
you could feel the time pass as you and spencer headed inside. you saw him throw away the empty bottles of beer and decided to join, as a way to ease the awkward environment.
in a matter of a minute, you two had gotten rid of almost all the glass bottles. you reached to grab the last one on one of the ends of a shelf right above a loaded desk with a scary amount of documents on top of it. you tried your best to not mess with the order of those files while also attempting to get the bottle with your index and middle finger. you stretched as hard as you could when your heel suddenly gave up on you and just about made you trip as you gripped the ends of the desk to not fall flat on your face. the silence that'd once been flooding the room, was now interrupted by the shrilling sound of glass hitting the floor.
spencer turned around suddenly. the view before him made him want to laugh. you, rubbing your eyes and just slightly laughing disappointed at your slip. "sorry, I don't know what happened. I'll clean this up don't worry." you stated as you lowered yourself to pick up the glass.
"don't do that! i'll go get the broom!" he hurriedly said.
"it's fine! look, all done!"
"you're bleeding.” he says, matter of factly. suddenly, spencer is running out to the men’s bathroom while you stand paralyzed waiting for him.
“spence, it’s fine!!” you shout out into the office, hoping he hears, which he does, but just chooses to ignore. only a few seconds later, he comes back with a hand full of paper towels and in the other, wound disinfectant. “seriously, look!! a little bruise.” you show him the new open bruise on your hand. “it’s not even deep, i’ll just take care of it when i get ho-“
“sit down, please.” spencer calmly requests with a tight lipped smile. and so you do. he reaches his hand and gestures to see your wound. his hand brushes against yours in a soft manner and holds it in his own, inspecting the depth of the wound. he reaches for the wet paper towel he got and gently cleans the blood around the place that got injured. “are you always this stubborn?” he asks, still cleaning your blood painted skin.
the question takes you aback, but makes you grin. “i don’t know, depends on what your definition of stubborn is.” you respond, emphasizing the word ‘stubborn’.
that earns you a soft smile from him. “only a really stubborn person would say that, you know?” he remarks finally looking up to you after cleaning the blood. “you don’t usually let people help.”
“ouch.” you say, pretending to be hurt. you think to yourself if this is something that has been on spencer’s mind or if it randomly popped up in his head after almost refusing treatment from him. quiet was something you were used to with spencer. it wasn’t suffocating, like being with someone who always feels the need to talk to ease the tension. you actually liked quiet, but the silence hanging in the air between you and spencer this time was different, almost as if there was stuff that had been left unsaid in the past that was finally going to be talked about. you’re the one to break the silence. “is that a… bad thing?”
he looks at you again. “what is?”
“not asking for help.” you clarify. “i mean, isn’t it good to be independent? isn’t that what we’re taught since we’re kids?” suddenly, you hiss. spencer had started to disinfect your hand.
“sorry!” he quickly replies. “i should’ve warned you i was going to do that.”
you shake your head and smile as a way to say it was fine. he continues to disinfect your wound and your question remains unanswered, when he gains courage to speak. “we’re taught a lot as kids though. we’re taught to never talk back, even if we were disrespected first.” you look at him, wondering where he’s getting at. “gosh, even to salute to the flag every morning, but i know you never did that.” you laugh. you had mentioned that small fact about yourself when you first got hired, but you never imagined that would stick in spencer’s mind, almost a year later. “what i’m trying to say is, we learn a lot of useless stuff from adults when we’re young and impressionable. just because you think you don’t need help, or that you shouldn’t feel the need for help, doesn’t mean you can’t ask any of us for help. you can ask me for help, for anything.” those last words hit you like a brick and you didn’t know how to react. all you can manage out is a breathy sigh. not of boredom, not of sadness, but of something that had been building inside of you since the moment you had met spencer. blinking slowly, you quickly turn your look down to hide the flushed look on your face.
“1 minute!” you both hear voices from outside and like clockwork, your faces turn to look at each other.
“wait, can you just check the time?” you try to snap out of whatever trance you were under and manage to ask spencer. he also seems to gain more awareness once you ask him. ‘was he also nervous?’
“11:59.” he simply states. just like that, an idea surges through your head.
“upstairs. follow me!” you hurriedly say and start quickly moving up the stairs to see the fireworks outside. you hear footsteps right behind you and you smile. you could’ve betted that the the concrete floor of the stairs had never had people rush through them just to see some fireworks.
once you get to the top, you let the door open for spencer to follow you to the railing. you get there and cross your arms over it in anticipation as you see spencer’s tall figure settle right next to you.
‘any time now’
a few seconds pass, and suddenly the sound of the entire street counting down to next year starts. as you wait nervously for the moment you'd been anticipating the whole day, your mind can't help but replay the conversation you'd just had with the man standing next to you, the man who didn't need to be there, who could very easily go home or help hotch sober up. it dawns on you that spencer reid wasn't just another coworker you got nervous for approval of, he was the coworker who had unmistakably pulled your heartstrings.
"spencer." you call him out.
the street chanted "10! 9! 8!".
he turns his gaze towards you. "you can always ask me for anything as well." you admit with a smile, letting your guard go down for the, what you remember, first time with him.
"1! happy new year!" the two of you can only grin at each other as the celebrations are in place and the sky lights up with artificial colors that illuminate each other's faces, highlighting the happiness of the instant.
the fireworks continue for about 5 minutes, the only thing distracting you from the sky and spencer is the ringing sound coming from your back pocket.
CALL INCOMING - GARCIA
"garcia! happy new year!" you basically shout over all the fireworks.
"happy new year! ms. l/n! are you seeing the fireworks right now?"
"yeah, i'm with spencer!" you direct the phone his way telling him it's garcia and they exchange their new years' greetings.
once you get your phone back, garcia doesn't hold back on teasing you about you being alone with spencer and you can't help but nervously laugh. "how's hotch by the way? has he sobered up yet?" you ask over the line and you notice spencer stiffen next to you and widen his eyes at the question.
"hotch? he's been sober the entire night. we left for a bar and spencer said he needed to run back int- ohhhh!" realization hits her as she speaks. you only look at spencer, who's now facing down, as you're trying not to laugh when you end the call with garcia.
you smugly stand near the railing and fail to hold back a teasing smile. "hotch was drunk out of his mind huh?"
he scoffs to himself. "i should've known that one was going to come bite me back in the ass sooner or later." you laugh as you playfully hit him in the arm. despite the embarrassment, he breaks out into laughter with you but turns to look at the sky once again to hide from you.
"next time you want to talk to me, you don't need to find an excuse to do it by the way... or make up a really bad lie." you don't know if it's the alcohol or the man you like in a white button-up looking really good in front of you that make you bold, but you like it. teasing him.
he only shakes his head in disappointment, but still chuckles. "noted. got to make up a really good lie next time, then."
author's notes:
ahhhhhhhh, my first oneshot!! which you can probably tell but it's ok!! i have a lot to learn so any feedback to improve my writing would be amazing
also, i started writing this like a year ago when i started watching cm so if it's inaccurate... yeah you can see why lol, its been a whiiiileeeee
