.✦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
"Kiss me."
"Kiss me."
"Kiss me, Jae."
"Jae, kiss me."
"Earth to Jaehyun!"
Jaehyun snapped out of his daze, his fingers frozen mid-typing. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the vivid memory that had hijacked his thoughts. Not that he meant to daydream about it—it just happened.
"Jaehyun!"
He turned his head to the right and was met with Sungho's amused, albeit slightly concerned, expression.
"You good, man? Or are you having some... dirty thoughts?" Sungho teased, leaning on Jaehyun's desk with a knowing smirk.
Jaehyun groaned, rolling his eyes. "What do you want?" he replied lazily, attempting to refocus on his monitor.
"I just wanted to ask about last night," Sungho said, leaning closer with a mischievous glint. "Because you and Mora took forever in the bathroom, and then you two bailed on us right after. What was all that about?"
Jaehyun froze, his hands pausing over the keyboard. Of all the things Sungho could've asked, it had to be this.
"Don't tell me..." Sungho began, his eyes widening as he leaned in closer, practically vibrating with curiosity. "You guys did the—"
"She had a chicken fight with some women in the bathroom, and thankfully I was there to help her. That's all," Jaehyun blurted, cutting him off with a hastily crafted lie. He mentally patted himself on the back for how smoothly it rolled out.
Sungho's face fell, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. "That's it? A chicken fight? Man, I was expecting... something. You really know how to kill a vibe." He shook his head dramatically before retreating back to his desk, muttering under his breath about wasted gossip potential.
Jaehyun watched him go, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He sank back in his chair, exhaling quietly.
But no matter how hard he tried, every time he closed his eyes, he was back there, reliving that kiss—Mora's hand gripping his tie, the look in her eyes, the way her lips had felt against his.
His chest tightened at the memory. He wanted to act as if nothing had happened, to convince himself it was all just part of the act. But who in their right mind could move on so easily after kissing their boss of three years—a boss who was usually more likely to give him a verbal lashing than any sort of physical affection—and the worst part? He liked it.
