.✦Office AU
For three years, Jaehyun felt his life slipping through his fingers, especially whenever Mora-his demanding boss-was around. More often than not, he found himself acting less like her assistant and more like her personal butler, catering...
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𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊
"Order for Jaehyun!"
Jaehyun jogged to the counter, snatching the coffee with a quick, "Thanks, Jill!" Already hustling toward his next stop, he waved off her grin and stepped back into the city's buzzing morning crowd—people weaving, honking, muttering, rushing off to their lives.
Right as he rounded a corner, his phone buzzed. Mora. Jaehyun winced and answered the call.
"Yes, Boss?"
"What's on my schedule today?" Her tone had that "don't make me ask again" edge, even though he'd definitely emailed her the entire schedule last night. Twice.
"Right," he cleared his throat. "You've got a meeting with Mary Twan at two, then another with Allure at six, and brunch with Ronny at twelve to talk about the new—"
"Cancel brunch. I don't have the patience for Ron's half-baked ideas and grab me a Caesar salad from the café downstairs, would ya? I forgot to eat breakfast. Also, that draft you sent me last night. We're setting that aside for now, got it?"
Jaehyun bit back a groan. "Right... got it."
"See you at the office." And she was gone, leaving him staring at his phone with a twitch of utter frustration. Cancel a brunch, get her food, and oh yeah, throw his ideas in the bin—why was he still working as her assistant for almost 3 years? Most days, it felt like he was sprinting in circles, trying not to get flattened under the tires of her demands.
Jaehyun shoved his phone into his pocket, just then a stranger collided with him, sending coffee splattering across the pavement. The stranger only shot him a glare and shouted from a distance, "Watch where you're going, idiot!"
Great. There went ten dollars down the drain on a custom order—specifically bought to appease his boss. Jaehyun didn't even have the energy to snap back, rolling his eyes as he sighed and continued on his way.
Instead of heading to his desk, as he should've been by now, he found himself in another impossibly long line, this time for Mora's salad. By the time he finally grabbed it and raced into the office, it was almost 10.00am.
Everyone was just laying off in the morning. People were laughing, swapping gossip, and just relaxing before actually starting the day. But then—a sleek black car pulled up to the curb outside. Slowly, she stepped out: The editor-in-chief of Magz Magazine. She had dark-brown hair, heels that could probably pierce the earth's crust, and a stare that could clear a room.
The office group chat exploded like a code-red alarm: The eagle has landed! All hands on deck!
A switch flipped, and the entire office snapped into a productive panic, the kind where nobody actually looks busy but is absolutely not messing around. Pens were clicking, monitors realigned; the place transformed in a flash from casual hangout to a scene from an undercover mission.
