#coffee brewing guide | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

Text

Depollute Me

Summary: You join the BAU and Spencer is a smitten kitten.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: mentions of morgue details from a case, mentions of struggle from a case, alcohol consumptions

Word count: 7.2k

a/n: lol so this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS i have not read it since then but i feel so bad for never posting anymore so please accept this while i get my life together !!!

Spencer walked into the bullpen on what seemed to be a very typical Monday morning. The hum of chatter and the rhythmic clicking of keyboards filled the air, as it usually did. Without much thought, he placed his well-worn satchel down on his desk, the familiar weight leaving his shoulder as he began his habitual routine. His focus was singular: getting to the breakroom for his morning coffee. The scent of freshly brewed coffee guided him, and within moments, he returned to his desk, ready to dive into the day's work.

As he settled into his chair, Spencer reached for a stack of files when a voice interrupted his concentration. "Reid, did you not notice the new girl?" Morgan's tone was laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement, causing Spencer to pause mid-motion.

“Huh?” Spencer finally looked up, his mind still partially entangled in the tasks he was about to undertake. His routine had been so ingrained that he hadn’t even glanced around the room.

Morgan smirked, nodding towards the far side of the bullpen. "Over by JJ’s office."

Spencer's gaze followed the direction Morgan indicated, and for the first time, he noticed you. A young woman, probably in her mid twenties, was standing near JJ's office, dressed in a sharp, well-tailored pantsuit that hugged her figure in a way that was both professional and undeniably flattering. Your presence was commanding, yet you seemed approachable with an air of confidence.

“Who is that?” Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued as he observed the new arrival with a mixture of intrigue and surprise.

Before Morgan could answer, Hotch, who happened to be walking by at that moment, interjected in his usual calm, authoritative manner. “Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” he informed them, his tone as steady as ever. “She’s from the Sex Crimes Unit, a promising young agent.”

Morgan, ever the one to tease, leaned back in his chair with a playful grin. “Looks like you’re not the baby anymore, pretty boy.”

Spencer, though still focused on the new agent, managed to respond with a slight shrug. “I’m okay with that.” His voice was soft, but there was a hint of relief in his words. Perhaps the idea of no longer being the youngest on the team was a comforting thought.

Hotch, who was moving on to another task, paused briefly to add one more detail, as if to settle any lingering questions. “She’s older than you, Reid. Actually.”

Morgan, not missing a beat, raised an eyebrow. “How old? She looks good,” he remarked, his eyes still on you, appreciating your composed demeanor and striking appearance.

Hotch, always the voice of reason and decorum, shot Morgan a warning look. “Morgan,” he cautioned, before continuing, “she’s 28.”

“I’m almost 28…” Spencer mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, as if to rationalize his place on the team.

“Okay, baby,” Morgan teased, chuckling as he reached over to playfully ruffle Spencer’s hair. The affectionate gesture was a typical part of their dynamic, one that Spencer had grown accustomed to over the years.

Spencer gave a small smile, shaking his head slightly at Morgan's teasing, but his mind was already drifting back to the new agent. There was something about you that intrigued him, and he found himself wondering what it would be like to work alongside you. The idea of no longer being the youngest wasn’t as unsettling as it once might have been.

“Agents, round table, five minutes,” Hotch’s voice cut through the usual hum of activity in the bullpen. The announcement was direct, as always, leaving no room for delay or distraction. Spencer, along with the rest of the team, immediately began to gather their things, each of them accustomed to the rhythm of their work.

As the team filed into the conference room and took their usual seats around the round table, there was an undercurrent of curiosity in the air. Eyes subtly darted towards the new face at the table, though the attempts at being inconspicuous were, in truth, anything but. It was clear that everyone was eager to learn more about the person who would be joining their tight-knit group.

Hotch, standing at the head of the table, wasted no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “As you have all noticed, we have a new member joining the team,” he began, his voice steady as he motioned towards you. “This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She’s joining us from Sex Crimes.”

A chorus of greetings filled the room, each team member offering their version of “hello” or “welcome.” Despite the collective effort to make you feel at ease, Spencer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you. His usual reserved nature gave way to an inexplicable fascination with your confident yet soft demeanor. The way you met each person’s eyes with a small, genuine smile only deepened his curiosity.

As Hotch briefed the team, Spencer’s thoughts kept drifting back to you. He noticed how attentively you listened, your calm focus suggesting you were already a step ahead. His mind wandered, wondering about your experiences, your approach, and who you were beyond the BAU walls.

When your eyes briefly met his, Spencer felt a jolt of something unfamiliar. The room seemed to fade as he quickly looked down, warmth creeping up his neck. It was unusual for him to be so distracted during a briefing, but there was something about you that he couldn’t quite place.

As the team dispersed, Spencer hesitated, glancing at you again. He wondered if you had noticed his lapse in concentration, but your calm, professional expression gave nothing away. Now, he couldn’t help but feel both eager and off balance, curious about how you would fit into the team—and what that might mean for him.

—

It was your first away case with the team, and as you boarded the jet, the weight of newness settled on your shoulders. The BAU team moved with the ease of seasoned travelers, each member instinctively knowing their place and routine. You, on the other hand, hesitated, unsure of where to sit, not wanting to take anyone's usual spot and disrupt the unspoken order.

As you stood there, trying to decide, Emily caught your eye and offered you a warm, reassuring smile. "Hey, why don't you sit next to me?" she suggested kindly, patting the seat beside her.

Grateful for her understanding, you nodded and made your way over, sliding into the seat she had saved for you. The small gesture of kindness made the moment feel a little less daunting, easing the nervousness that had been creeping in since you’d learned about the case.

As the team engaged in a lively discussion about the case, you tried to focus on the file in front of you, but a strange sensation crept over you—a shiver that ran down your spine, leaving a trail of unease in its wake. It felt as though someone was watching you, and the thought was impossible to ignore.

Lifting your eyes from the file, you glanced toward the couch on the jet. There he was, Doctor Spencer Reid, as you'd been introduced to him earlier. His gaze was unmistakably fixed on you, a quiet intensity in his eyes that you could feel even from across the cabin. The moment your eyes met, his gaze snapped away, almost too quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

It was curious, to say the least.

—

The team had just settled into the bustling Milwaukee precinct, the air thick with the tension of a new case and the quiet hum of police activity around them. Hotch stood at the center of the room, efficiently handing out assignments with his usual calm authority.

“Reid, Y/L/N, you go to the morgue,” Hotch instructed, his voice steady as he looked between the two of you.

Spencer felt a jolt of nervousness shoot through him at the assignment. The idea of spending time alone with you set his mind racing. His thoughts spiraled through a thousand different scenarios—what he would say, how he would act, whether you would notice his awkwardness. He tried to hide his unease, but the tightening in his chest betrayed how out of sorts he felt.

You, on the other hand, felt a surge of excitement at the prospect. The morgue wasn’t exactly a thrilling destination, but the chance to spend time with Spencer, the quiet and enigmatic doctor, piqued your interest. You’d been curious about him since you joined the team, drawn to the way his mind seemed to work in layers, each one more complex than the last. This was an opportunity to maybe get to know him better, to see beyond the brilliant profiler and into the person behind those thoughtful eyes.

As the two of you gathered your things and prepared to head out, Spencer gave you a small, tentative smile, his nerves still bubbling just beneath the surface. You returned the smile with genuine warmth, hoping to ease the tension you sensed in him.

“Ready to go?” you asked, your tone light and encouraging.

Spencer nodded, his voice just a little tight as he replied, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

As you both made your way out of the precinct, the silence between you was comfortable, filled with the potential of what this small assignment could reveal. For Spencer, it was a chance to navigate the unfamiliar territory of getting to know someone new; for you, it was an exciting step toward understanding the mystery that was Doctor Spencer Reid.

“Do you, um, do you mind driving?” Spencer asked, his voice carrying a slight edge of hesitation as the two of you stood by the car.

You smiled, already finding his nervousness endearing. “No, not at all. Do you not like to drive?” you asked as you unlocked the car.

“I find it helps me focus more on the case if I don’t also have to focus on the road,” he explained, his words coming out in a rush as if he was worried about how you might take it.

You couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “Oh, so I don’t need to focus as much as you?” you joked, throwing him a playful glance as you slid into the driver’s seat.

But Spencer, usually taking things quite literally, didn’t catch on to your teasing. His eyes widened slightly as he quickly tried to clarify. “No, no, not at all. I only meant that my mind is so busy all the time, and I—I just, I need to think a lot and—” His words tumbled out, his voice growing a bit more frantic as he tried to explain.

You immediately felt a pang of guilt for having flustered him. “Doctor Reid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out,” you said softly, cutting off his rambling. “I was only joking.”

There was a moment of silence, then Spencer took a small breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Spencer,” he corrected gently, his tone more composed now. “You can call me Spencer.”

You smiled, nodding as you started the car. “Alright, Spencer,” you agreed, feeling the ice between you start to melt just a little as you pulled out of the parking lot.

—

The sterile, cold air of the morgue enveloped you both as you walked through the doors, the metallic scent of antiseptic mingling with the faint, almost imperceptible odor of decay. The medical examiner, a middle-aged man with weary eyes, greeted you with a curt nod before leading you to the body you were there to examine.

As the examiner began to explain the preliminary findings, you focused intently on the details, your eyes scanning the body and the evidence laid out on the stainless steel table. Spencer stood beside you, his attention divided between listening to the examiner and observing your reactions.

As the examiner pointed out a series of bruises on the victim’s torso, you leaned in slightly, narrowing your eyes at the pattern. Something about it struck you as odd, but familiar. “These bruises,” you started, gesturing to them, “they’re not random. They look like they could be the result of a struggle, but not just any struggle—these marks here,” you pointed to a specific set, “they’re consistent with someone trying to defend themselves against a chokehold. The position and depth suggest they were made by the victim’s own hands, trying to pry off an attacker.”

The examiner paused, blinking in surprise. “I hadn’t considered that,” he admitted, clearly impressed by your quick assessment.

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his curiosity piqued by your insight. He leaned in closer to examine the bruises, following the line of your observation. “You’re right,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and intrigue. “That makes sense, given the angle and the force. It would explain the bruising pattern on the victim’s neck as well.”

He looked up at you, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “That was a good catch,” he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. It wasn’t often that someone impressed him with such a sharp, on-the-spot observation, especially in an area where his own expertise usually dominated.

You smiled back, feeling a warm flush of pride at his acknowledgment. “Thanks, Spencer,” you replied, the use of his first name feeling more natural now, as if that small barrier had already begun to dissolve.

—

As you and Spencer drove back to the precinct, the earlier tension from the morgue had dissipated, leaving behind a more relaxed atmosphere.

“So, Spencer,” you began, glancing over at him with a playful smile, “I have to ask, how did you get so good at noticing the smallest details? I mean, do you practice in your free time? Like, do you just walk around analyzing random people for fun?”

Spencer chuckled softly, clearly amused by the question. “Not exactly,” he replied, his tone light. “It’s more of a habit at this point. I’ve always been observant, even when I was a kid. I guess it just… developed naturally over time.”

You tilted your head, pretending to be impressed. “Naturally, huh? So, it’s like a superpower then? I bet you can tell all kinds of things about a person just by looking at them.”

Spencer smiled, his gaze flickering between you and the road. “It’s not quite that dramatic,” he said, modest as ever. “But, yeah, I can usually pick up on a lot of details that others might miss.”

You decided to push the playful banter a little further. “So, what about me, then? What details have you picked up?” you teased, leaning in slightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the question. He clearly hadn’t expected you to turn the tables on him like that. “Um, well,” he stammered, his mind racing to formulate a response that wouldn’t sound too personal or invasive. “I’ve noticed that you’re very passionate about your work, that you’re observant, and that you care a lot about doing the right thing.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer, even though it was far more earnest than you’d intended. “That’s sweet, Spencer,” you said softly. “But I was thinking more along the lines of what color my eyes are, or how you noticed I always play with my jewelry when I’m thinking.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words, clearly not catching on to the flirtatious undertone. “Oh, well, your eyes are a very nice shade of y/e/c,” he said earnestly. “And I did notice that you play with your jewelry sometimes when you’re concentrating. It’s a subconscious gesture, probably something you do without realizing it.”

You bit back a laugh, charmed by his obliviousness. “You really are good, Doctor Reid,” you teased lightly. “But I was just messing with you. I didn’t expect you to take me so seriously.”

Spencer looked over at you, a bit of confusion in his expression, though it quickly gave way to a small, sheepish smile. “Oh… I guess I missed that,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing way he did when he was flustered.

You grinned, feeling a strange sense of affection for his sincerity. “It’s okay, Spencer. It just means you’re genuine—and I like that.”

As the car pulled into the precinct parking lot, the playful exchange left both of you feeling a little lighter. Spencer might have missed the flirtation, but in the process, you’d managed to break down some of the walls between you, leaving the door open for more conversations, more connections, and maybe, just maybe, something more down the line.

—

Penelope had extended one of her famously warm invitations to the entire team, promising a night of lively conversation, good food, and the kind of camaraderie that only the BAU could understand. Her apartment, as always, was a bright and eclectic haven, filled with quirky decorations, cozy seating areas, and the unmistakable aroma of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

As the evening wore on, the sound of laughter and animated chatter filled the room. Drinks were poured, stories were shared, and the general atmosphere was one of relaxation and enjoyment. Penelope, ever the gracious host, moved through the crowd like a butterfly, making sure everyone was comfortable and having a good time.

You found yourself in the middle of a conversation with JJ and Emily, the three of you discussing everything from recent cases to more lighthearted topics. Spencer, meanwhile, was across the room, engaged in a deep discussion with Hotch and Rossi. Yet, despite the separate conversations, you couldn’t help but notice how often your gaze drifted toward him—and how, more than once, you caught him glancing back at you.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed. As the evening continued, you began to pick up on a subtle undercurrent among the team, a shared look or knowing smile exchanged between your colleagues whenever you and Spencer were in close proximity. It was as if everyone had collectively decided that tonight was the night to push the two of you a little closer together.

“Hey, Y/N,” Emily said, her voice carrying a hint of mischief as she casually steered you toward the couch where Spencer had just sat down. “Why don’t you grab a seat? Looks like there’s plenty of room.”

You shot her a playful glare, fully aware of what she was doing, but you didn’t resist. With a small smile, you took the spot next to Spencer, who glanced up at you with a shy, yet pleased expression.

“Hi, Spencer,” you greeted him, settling into the seat and feeling the warmth of his presence beside you.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice soft but with a touch of warmth that made you feel at ease. The two of you exchanged a small smile, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

Before you could say anything more, Morgan appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face as he handed both you and Spencer a drink. “There you go, pretty boy, Y/N. You two look like you could use a refill,” he said, his tone far too innocent to be sincere.

You accepted the drink with a raised eyebrow. “Thanks, Morgan,” you replied, your tone matching his in playful suspicion. You knew exactly what he was up to, but you decided to play along, taking a sip of your drink as you glanced at Spencer.

Spencer, for his part, seemed slightly oblivious to the team’s not-so-subtle matchmaking attempts, though there was a faint blush on his cheeks as he took his drink from Morgan. “Thanks, Derek,” he mumbled, clearly trying to avoid the knowing look in Morgan’s eyes.

The team's subtle matchmaking efforts became more apparent, each of them playing their part with a touch of mischief. Rossi, always one for a good story, managed to draw you into a conversation about a particularly tricky case the team had solved a few years back.

“So, Y/N,” Rossi began, a twinkle in his eye, “have you ever encountered a case where the suspect used historical ciphers to communicate with their victims?”

You tilted your head, intrigued but knowing exactly where this was going. “No, I have not. Why do you ask?”

Rossi leaned back, gesturing towards Spencer with a grin. “Because our very own Dr. Reid is an expert in ciphers, and I’d bet he could tell you all about the time he cracked one in record time.”

Spencer, who had been quietly listening, perked up at the mention of his expertise. “Oh, well, it wasn’t exactly record time,” he said modestly, but Rossi’s encouragement had already drawn him in. “But it was a fascinating case. The unsub used a modified version of the Zodiac cipher, which was particularly challenging because—”

As Spencer launched into a detailed explanation, you couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Rossi had managed to pull you both into the conversation. The discussion flowed naturally from there, and you found yourself genuinely interested in Spencer’s insights, occasionally offering your own thoughts, which Spencer seemed to appreciate.

Not long after, Penelope gathered everyone together for a game she had prepared. “Alright, everyone, time for a little fun! We’re playing ‘Celebrity!’” she announced, holding up a bowl filled with slips of paper. “And wouldn’t you know it, Y/N, you and Spencer are on the same team!”

You caught Penelope’s wink as she handed you the bowl, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “What are the odds?” you joked, taking your seat next to Spencer.

Spencer looked a little surprised but quickly smiled, clearly pleased by the arrangement. “I guess we’ll have to work together,” he said, his tone light.

Throughout the game, the team’s delight in pairing the two of you together was obvious, with Emily and Morgan offering exaggerated praise whenever you and Spencer managed to score points. “Great teamwork, you two!” Emily called out with a grin. “It’s like you can read each other’s minds!”

Spencer flushed slightly at the comment, but he seemed to enjoy the playful camaraderie, even if he wasn’t entirely sure why everyone was making such a big deal out of it.

Later, even Hotch joined in on the subtle matchmaking, calling both you and Spencer into the kitchen to help with an entirely unnecessary task. “I need a hand in here,” Hotch said, waving you both over. “This cake isn’t going to cut itself.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the already-cut cake sitting on the counter, but you went along with it, smiling as you grabbed a knife. “Looks like we’ve been drafted,” you quipped.

Spencer smiled awkwardly but followed your lead, picking up a plate. “Yeah, it’s… good to be useful,” he said, his tone a little unsure but genuine.

The two of you worked side by side, the conversation light and easy. You couldn’t help but notice how comfortable it felt to be around him, even in the most mundane tasks. And as you laughed together over something trivial, you caught Hotch’s subtle nod of approval from the corner of your eye.

As the party began to wind down and people started to gather their things to leave, you and Spencer found yourselves standing near the door, alone for the first time that evening. The energy of the night had brought you closer, and the playful encouragement from the team had only served to make that connection feel more natural.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you said, your voice soft as you turned to Spencer.

He looked at you with a gentle smile, his nervousness from earlier in the night long gone. “I did too,” he replied, his tone sincere. “It was nice… spending time with you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest at his words. “I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?” you teased lightly, echoing Emily’s earlier comment.

Spencer’s smile widened just a little, though he still seemed a bit oblivious to the underlying meaning. “Yeah, I think we do,” he agreed, his eyes meeting yours in a way that felt significant.

There was a brief moment of silence between you, comfortable and filled with possibility. The evening had left you with a sense of warmth, the connection between you and Spencer deepening in ways that felt both unexpected and natural. “Goodnight, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice lingering with a hint of something more, your eyes meeting his in a way that made the simple farewell feel like it carried more weight.

Spencer hesitated for a second, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before he spoke. “Can I, um, can I drive you home?” he asked, his tone a little shy but hopeful, as if he wasn’t quite sure if it was okay to ask.

You blinked in surprise, then remembered that you had seen him with a drink earlier in the evening. “You were drinking too, Spencer,” you pointed out gently, not wanting to put him in an uncomfortable position.

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small smile as he shook his head. “I don’t drink alcohol,” he explained, his voice calm and reassuring. “They were nonalcoholic.”

You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, warmth spreading through you at his thoughtfulness. “Oh, well in that case,” you said, your voice softening as you looked at him, “I’d really like that.”

His eyes brightened at your response, and he gave a small, almost relieved nod. “Great,” he said, the awkwardness from earlier replaced by a quiet confidence. “Let me just grab my keys.”

As you waited for him, you couldn’t help but feel that this simple offer—this small, thoughtful gesture—was a sign of something more, something that might grow between you. And as the two of you walked out together, the night air cool against your skin, you found yourself looking forward to the drive, and to whatever might come next.

—

While guests began to filter out of Penelope's apartment, Hotch and Rossi found themselves lingering in the cozy living room, the buzz of the evening winding down. The two men exchanged a glance as they noticed you and Spencer leaving together, Spencer opening the car door for you with his usual quiet charm.

Rossi chuckled softly, taking a sip of his drink as he watched the scene unfold. “You know, Aaron,” he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I think those two might just be good for each other.”

Hotch followed Rossi’s gaze a small, rare smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, his tone thoughtful. “They would make a nice pair.”

Rossi nodded, setting his glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Spencer needs someone like Y/N—someone patient, who sees the world a little differently, but isn’t afraid to challenge him.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, considering Rossi’s words. “And anyone could use someone like Spencer,” he added.

Rossi smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s not often you see something like that—a connection that just feels… natural.”

Hotch chuckled softly, a sound that was more a breath than a laugh. “It’s about time Spencer found someone who really gets him.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. “And maybe someone who can keep up with that brain of his.”

Hotch’s smile grew a little wider at that. “She’s got her work cut out for her, then.”

They shared a knowing look, they’d both be quietly rooting for you and Spencer.

—

As Spencer opened the car door for you, you slid into the passenger seat with a smile, appreciating the small but considerate gesture. He walked around to the driver’s side and settled in, adjusting the mirrors and checking the controls with his usual meticulousness. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space as he started the car, and soon enough, you were on the road, the city lights passing by in a soft blur.

For a few moments, the two of you were content with the silence, letting the calm of the evening settle over you. But then, curiosity got the better of you, and you turned slightly in your seat to look at Spencer, your gaze soft but inquisitive.

“So, Spencer,” you began, your tone light, “you don’t drink alcohol at all? Or just not tonight?”

Spencer glanced over at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all, actually,” he admitted. “I’ve never really liked the way it makes me feel. Plus, it’s kind of a personal choice—helps me stay sharp, especially with work.”

You nodded, finding that very much in line with what you’d learned about him so far. “That makes sense,” you replied, your voice warm. “I can see how that would be important for you. You always seem so… focused.”

Spencer chuckled softly, a touch of bashfulness in his tone. “I try to be,” he said. “But it’s not always easy. My mind tends to wander a lot.”

You smiled at that, sensing an opportunity to tease him just a little. “Wander? You? I would’ve never guessed,” you said with playful exaggeration, giving him a sideways glance.

He laughed, the sound quiet but genuine. “Yeah, well, it happens more often than you’d think. Especially when I’m trying to solve a problem or figure something out. My brain just… runs in all these different directions.”

“I’d love to see that in action,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. When you realized how it might sound, you quickly added, “I mean, it must be fascinating to see how your mind works.”

Spencer glanced at you again, this time with a slightly more serious expression, though there was still a hint of that shy smile. “I guess I’ve just always been wired that way. It’s part of why I love what I do. But it can be… isolating sometimes, you know? People don’t always get it.”

You nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. “Yeah, I can relate to that,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I think a lot of us in this line of work feel that way at times. It’s hard for people outside of it to really understand what we go through, what we see.”

There was a moment of shared silence, both of you reflecting on what you’d said. Then, wanting to lighten the mood a bit, you turned the conversation back to something a little more playful.

“So, what do you do for fun, Spencer? When you’re not solving crimes and noticing everything that no one else does?” you asked with a teasing lilt to your voice.

Spencer seemed to relax a bit more, the serious tone easing as he thought about your question. “Well,” he began, “I like to read, obviously. I’m a bit of a collector when it comes to rare books. And, um, I also enjoy magic tricks.”

“Magic tricks?” you repeated, intrigued and a little surprised. “I didn’t expect that.”

Spencer smiled, the warmth in his expression growing. “Yeah, I picked it up as a kid. It’s something that stuck with me. I guess I like the challenge of it—figuring out how to manipulate perception, how to create something that seems impossible.”

You leaned in a little, genuinely fascinated. “That’s actually really cool. You’ll have to show me a trick sometime.”

He glanced at you, a spark of excitement in his eyes at the idea. “I’d like that,” he said simply.

As the conversation continued, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, exchanging stories and little details about your lives. You learned that Spencer had an insatiable curiosity for nearly everything, and that he was just as eager to hear about your interests and experiences. There were moments of gentle teasing, of light laughter, and as the night wore on, it felt as though the distance between you was closing, replaced by a budding connection that was both comfortable and exciting.

By the time Spencer pulled up in front of your place, you felt like you’d gotten to know him in a way that few probably had—a glimpse beneath the layers of the brilliant, sometimes awkward genius to the kind, thoughtful person underneath.

“Thank you for the ride, Spencer,” you said as you unbuckled your seatbelt, turning to face him. “And for the conversation. I really enjoyed tonight.”

Spencer’s smile was warm, and this time, there was a hint of confidence in it. “I did too,” he replied, his voice soft. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the suggestion, a smile spreading across your face. “I’d like that,” you said, letting the sincerity of your words hang in the air for a moment.

With one last smile, you stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing your skin as you walked to your door. Glancing back, you caught Spencer’s eyes; he gave a shy wave before driving off without hesitation. As you unlocked your door, it struck you—you’d never met a man who didn’t try to make a move in such a moment.

It was refreshing, and his sincerity left you smiling. There was something deeply endearing about how content he seemed just to share your company. As you settled in for the night, a warm feeling lingered.

—

Monday morning arrived with the usual hum of activity in the bullpen, but there was a new kind of energy in the air—one that had you exchanging sweet, shy glances with Spencer across the room. Every time your eyes met, it was like a quiet acknowledgment of the evening you had shared, a soft connection that lingered between you.

As you settled into your desk, organizing your files and preparing for the day ahead, you were pleasantly surprised when Spencer walked by, gently placing a mug of coffee on your desk. The familiar aroma wafted up, and you immediately recognized it as your favorite blend, made just the way you liked it.

“Spencer… thank you,” you said softly, picking up the mug and taking a tentative sip. It was perfect, just as you expected. You looked up at him, curiosity tinged with warmth in your eyes. “How did you know?”

Spencer’s lips curled into a small, almost bashful smile, his hands fidgeting slightly. “I pay attention,” he replied simply, his voice just above a whisper, as if the words held more meaning than they seemed.

Your heart fluttered at his response, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. There was something incredibly endearing about how Spencer had noticed something so small, yet so personal. It wasn’t just the coffee—it was the care and thoughtfulness behind the gesture that made your heart skip a beat.

Smitten might have been an understatement for how you felt in that moment. You held his gaze for a moment longer, the unspoken understanding between you growing stronger with each passing second.

“Thank you,” you repeated, your voice soft and full of appreciation.

Spencer gave a quick, shy nod before retreating to his desk, his own heart racing from the brief but meaningful exchange.

—

Wednesday morning, you made your way to Spencer’s desk. In your hand, you held a donut topped with colorful sprinkles, a small token of your growing affection.

Reaching Spencer’s desk, you gently placed the donut in front of him, your hand brushing against his arm ever so slightly. The brief contact sent a spark through you, a tiny thrill that lingered as you stepped back.

Spencer looked up, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into a smile. “Y/N? Thank you,” he said, his voice tinged with both gratitude and a hint of that shyness you found so endearing.

You smiled back, your eyes meeting his. “A sweet treat for a sweet man,” you replied, your tone light yet full of sincerity.

For a moment, Spencer just stared at you, his cheeks flushing slightly as he took in your words. It wasn’t often that he received compliments like that, especially not from someone who meant as much to him as you were beginning to.

“Thank you,” he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were trying to savor the moment.

You gave him a soft smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his reaction. It was such a small gesture, but the way he looked at you made it feel like so much more. As you walked back to your desk, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, catching him as he carefully picked up the donut, a faint smile playing on his lips.

—

“I think I’m going to ask her on a date,” Spencer said, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and nervousness as he spoke to Penelope in the breakroom.

“Y/N?” Penelope’s eyes lit up with excitement, a grin spreading across her face. She had been hoping for this moment for a while now.

Spencer paused for a moment, then, with a rare touch of humor, he replied, “No, Emily.”

Penelope blinked, caught off guard by his response, before quickly catching on to his teasing. She narrowed her eyes playfully at him, placing a hand on her hip. “I don’t think that would go over well, my love.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bit more at ease with the banter. “Y/N or Emily?” he asked, his tone just as playful, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think Y/N or Emily would take well to you asking Emily on a date,” she said, her voice softening. “But, Y/n would be over the moon if you asked her out, Spencer. Trust me.”

Spencer nodded, a bit more confidence building inside him as he imagined what it might be like to take that step. “Yeah,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Penelope. “I think you’re right.”

Penelope gave him an encouraging smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement for her friend. “Go get her, Reid,” she said gently, patting his arm. “You’ve got this.”

Spencer took a deep breath, feeling both the weight and the thrill of the decision he was about to make. “Thanks, Penelope,” he said, giving her a grateful look before heading back to his desk, his mind now focused on how he was going to ask you out.

—

You stood in front of the elevator, the thought of a relaxing Friday evening at home making you eager to get out of the office. Your couch was practically calling your name, promising comfort after a long week. Just as the elevator doors began to slide open, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Y/N, wait up!”

You turned with a smile, spotting Spencer hurrying toward you. “I’m not moving, Spencer,” you giggled, teasing him lightly. “I’m waiting for the elevator.”

“Right… right,” he stammered, laughing awkwardly as he reached you, his hand instinctively going to the back of his neck, a gesture you had come to find endearing.

“What's up, weirdo?” you asked, still smiling as you watched him struggle to find his words.

Spencer took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with determination and nervousness. “Will you go out with me?” he blurted out, the words tumbling out faster than he intended.

You didn’t hesitate for even a second. “Yes.”

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard by how quickly you responded. “I don’t want to make things awkward, but I love spending time with you and—wait, what?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, his genuine surprise making the moment even sweeter. “I said yes, Spencer,” you repeated, your voice warm and reassuring.

Spencer’s eyes widened, a mixture of relief and joy flooding his expression. “You did? I mean, you did!” he stammered, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Wow, okay… this is great!”

The elevator doors opened just as he finished speaking, and you both stepped inside, the excitement of the moment bubbling between you. As the doors closed, Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him as the elevator began its descent.

Spencer glanced at you, his smile softening into something more tender. “Anywhere you want,” he said quietly.

—

The evening unfolded exactly as you had hoped, with one delightful twist. You and Spencer ended up on your couch, both of you dressed in comfortable pajamas, a warm pizza box resting on the coffee table in front of you. The aroma of melted cheese and spices filled the room, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Spencer was leaning back into the cushions, a slice of pizza in hand, his long legs stretched out comfortably. You were nestled beside him, your feet tucked under a soft blanket, feeling utterly content. It was the relaxing Friday evening you had been craving, only now it was even better with Spencer there beside you.

“This is nice,” Spencer said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as he took another bite of his pizza.

You glanced over at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “It really is,” you agreed, reaching for your own slice. “Exactly what I needed after this week.”

He looked at you, his eyes warm and a little shy, as if he couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. “I can’t believe this is what you wanted to do tonight,” he admitted, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “But I’m really glad it is.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow. “Spencer, this is perfect. It’s exactly what I wanted—good food, good company, and no pressure to do anything but relax.”

He smiled at that, clearly relieved and happy. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, his voice gentle as he looked at you with that familiar, earnest gaze.

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed easily between bites of pizza and sips of soda. You talked about everything and nothing—cases, hobbies, favorite books, and the little things that made each of you laugh. It felt natural, effortless, like this was where you both were meant to be.

Eventually, you found yourself leaning into Spencer’s side, your head resting on his shoulder as you both watched the TV, a movie playing softly in the background. He wrapped his arm around you, his touch light and careful, as if he were still marveling at how right this felt.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you. It was the relaxing Friday evening you had wanted, with the added bonus of the guy you wanted right there with you. As you snuggled closer, a contented sigh escaped your lips.

This was perfect.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005

1K notes · View notes

rizwananayat · 2 years ago

Text

How To Set Time On Smeg Coffee Machine – A Comprehensive Guide

Setting the time on your Smeg coffee machine may seem like a small task, but it plays a crucial role in ensuring that your brewing experience is seamless and convenient. Smeg, renowned for its top-notch coffee machines, has designed its appliances to offer not only exceptional coffee but also user-friendly features. However, figuring out how to set time on Smeg coffee machine? can be a bit confusing for some users. For more information visit our website

#smeg cofee machine #Set time on Smeg #Coffee Machines #Brewing Guides

0 notes

thehunteramman · 2 months ago

Text

Brew Your Best: A Guide to Choosing the Perfect Coffee Maker

Ready to upgrade your coffee game? Explore our top picks for the best coffee makers and start brewing like a pro.

Coffee is a beloved drink enjoyed by millions around the world. It provides a rich, stimulating flavor that many people rely on to start their day or keep them going. With numerous brewing methods available, having the right coffee maker can make a big difference in taste and convenience. From classic drip machines to single-serve options, choosing the best coffee maker can significantly enhance…

0 notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months ago

Text

suguru is too well-mannered for his own good.

when you walk into his living room, a lidded paper cup in hand, he’s seated on the couch. right in front of the coffee table, his fingers tapping the keys of his laptop, a series of clicks filling the open air.

he’s just as beautiful as always.

light shines in from the veranda, through parted curtains, licking along the contours of his face; illuminating his face lines, soft crows’ feet by his eyes. he’s got his hair tied up into a bun, raven locks and silver strands — only slightly grayed, some of them tickling the back of his neck — eyes narrowing in concentration behind a pair of reading glasses.

you can see his age, like this, but also not at all. he looks younger than ever with the sun as his gown.

suddenly, he raises his head — meeting your adoring gaze with his own. two pools of amber, always warm, like they were made to reflect sunlight, made to pull you in. his lips curling up into a fond, fond smile.

but your gaze strays down to his hands.

big, steady hands. hands that always find their way to the dips of your waist, to the tender juncture of skin between your shoulders and neck, to the top of your head. reaching out to pinch your cheeks, soothe your headaches after long lectures, mend and mold any lump of clay you place into his waiting palms — guide it into whatever shape he pleases, with those skilled fingers, calloused thumbs and nimble pinkies.

when you think of suguru, you think of pottery. you think of something beautiful — and there he is.

and he’s holding a cup.

as you step into his line of vision — hungry for a proper look at him — you can’t help but notice it. painted a deep, dark green, his favorite, but the shape is all wrong. uneven, rough around the edges, not nearly polished enough. when he puts it back down on the table, it wobbles — stumbles.

(you visibly cringe.)

”hi, sweetie.”

that deep, honeyed voice tugs you back into reality, your gaze pulled up like a puppet on a string. suguru is patient, just taking you in, waiting for a response. there’s never any rush, when it comes to him.

a shy smile blooms on your lips.

”hi,” you echo, stepping closer; raising a hand up into his view, the one carrying the paper cup, swaying it lightly side to side. ”i got you a latte.”

”oh?” he lets out a soft noise, something like a coo, eyes blooming with fondness. ”chai?”

”mhm.”

his smile only grows. you watch him lean back, absently crossing his arms, thick muscles hidden under the turtleneck he’s sporting. when you take a step closer, eager to hand it to him, he stops you.

”why don’t you give it a taste for me?” he asks, giving you a sweet tilt of his head. eyes soft and amused.

you blink.

after a moment, you raise the cup to your lips; taking a tentative sip of the brew. it’s hot on your tongue, a dash of pleasant spices, but mellow and sweet. just the way he likes it. you sigh out in bliss.

he only chuckles. ”how is it?”

”tasty,” you hum, licking your lips. holding it out for him to take. ”not too sweet, don’t worry.”

suguru accepts the cup with a smile, his thumb lingering on your hand for a moment, caressing the skin in a soothing, circular motion. his voice a low, tender murmur. ”thank you, honey.”

a warm feeling sprouts in your chest.

”i’ll get you a cup next time i pass by a café,” he continues, taking a tentative sip of his own. he visibly perks up at the taste. ”what would you like?”

”you don’t have to!” you’re quick to assure him, blinking sheepishly. but, of course, he won’t have it.

”i want to,” he chuckles. ”you’ll make me very happy if you let me.”

…

there’s no use protesting, when it comes to things like this. when he gets like this. telling suguru not to take care of you is like asking the sun not to shine.

so you let out a sigh.

”i… want a caramel frappe, please.”

another chuckle. his voice is soft, as always, like a coo is resting on the tip of his tongue. ”understood.”

suguru watches you, silently, for just a moment or two more. you’re meeting his gaze with a shy pair of eyes, always a little flustered by his attention, his care. his sweet little baby bird, coming over just to give him something to drink. straight out of class.

(you must be in need of some pampering.)

he pats his lap. ”come here,” he croons, parting his legs to give you space to take up. ”keep me company while i work. i want to hear about your day, sweetie.”

you blink, again. looking down at his lap, then back up at him, at the light catching onto the silver of his half-rim frames. he gives you a patient, closed-eyed smile — waiting for you to take your rightful place.

and you do.

his thighs feel solid, beneath you — big arms curling around your waist as you crawl into his lap and get comfy. one hand goes to rest on your hip, the other on your lower back, cradling you close, so secure in his embrace. you wrap your arms around his neck, legs draped over his thighs, leaning into his touch; inhaling the scent of sandalwood and tea leaves.

”… it was pretty boring.”

”oh, i’m sure you can do better than that.” he grins, brushing his thumb over the fabric of your jeans, an absentminded gesture. ”any interesting lectures?”

”uhhh…”

as you attempt to recollect your long and tiring day, suguru leans forward — reaching for the cup. the ugly one. the stumbling one. pulling it closer, putting the ceramic to his lips, to finish whatever he was drinking before you came in. green tea, you’d guess. the sip he takes resounds in your ear, your eyes sticking to his fingers as he places it back on the wooden table with a clink �� it wobbles again.

you give it a look of silent contempt.

… a look suguru seems to notice. because his keen, warm eyes trail down to where yours are still resting, and then back up at your cute little frown. he raises a brow, but he’s still smiling, an amused curl of his lips.

”… what?”

a moment passes. you consider staying silent — but the nagging curiosity gets the better of you. avoiding his gaze, still glancing down at the cup in question…

you absently clear your throat.

”you still… use that one?” you ask him, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. thinking to yourself that it should be stashed away in some forgotten cupboard, not out in the open — but maybe your boyfriend is just too polite to do something like that.

suguru only blinks.

”why wouldn’t i?”

…

you give him a look.

he returns it with a look of his own; silent, coaxing, that one questioning raise of his brow that demands an answer. he pairs it with a gentle squeeze to your hip, knowing it’ll make you relent. and he’s right.

”it’s…” you part your lips, searching for the right word, frowning down at the little ceramic bundle of joy. with its bumpy texture, that awkward-looking handle, the uneven bottom layer. ”so ugly, suguru.”

”ugly?” he echoes, a spark of amusement in his amber eyes. but he sounds a little discontent, suddenly, almost protective. ”now, now. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, my love.”

his deep voice buzzes in your ear, as he reaches out again — cradling the cup with one large hand. gazing down at it with a look you can’t quite place, so sweet it makes you shiver. a burst of vanilla on your tongue.

out of the corner of your eye, you notice him giving you a pointed look.

”… and i happen to think this cup is very charming.”

you can’t help but pout, shying away from his gaze, heavy as it is. gnawing at your bottom lip, crossing your arms and resting your cheek near the crook of his neck; muttering under your breath. ”what’s charming about a cup that can barely stand…?”

”you made it,” he answers, simply. ”with your own hands and fingers. and you gave it to me.”

ever so gently, he grips your jaw; his pointer and middle finger tilting your chin to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

”… don’t you think there’s an awful lot of charm in that?”

(warm. his eyes look warm enough to fall into.)

a sigh slips past your lips. he gives you a soft tilt of his head, and you part your lips in pliant response, sulking like a petulant child. ”the ones you’ve made for me are so much better, though…”

you think of all the bowls, the cups and plates he’s given you — the same ones you use every single day, sitting tall and proud on your dorm room shelves, made entirely by him. by an artist. in all kinds of elegant patterns, your initials carved at the bottom of every single one. he always gives you the ones he’s most proud of, after he’s finished with his classes.

(… in comparison, yours is just…)

”we don’t make art for needless comparison,” he shushes you, ever so fondly. ”there’s no end to that. we make it because it’s fun. your pieces aren’t lesser than mine just because i happen to be more experienced.”

…

when you don’t respond, suguru shifts — cradling you close, lifting the cup up to catch the light of the evening sun. it cascades down the ceramic, a mellow orange glow gliding across the green expanse. he watches it with barely concealed adoration.

”… this is my favorite one, you know. in my entire collection.” a joyous little hum buzzes in his throat. ”i’ve never made a cup i liked as much as this.”

you watch his expression change, eyes flickering with something soft and subtle, crinkled at the edges. his voice is nothing but sincere — coated in that sturdy, reliable tilt, like nothing he says could possibly be a lie. even if he tried, you doubt he could fake this kind of delight. putting the cup back down, as gentle as he can, as if it’s a cherished possession. he only looks more delighted when it wobbles a bit.

without thinking, the words slip past your lips.

”… i’ll make you another one.”

suguru’s gaze flicks down to meet yours. all bright and determined, your cheek squished against his shoulder, enough to make him want to coo. he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

”oh…? joining us in the studio again?”

”joining you,” you correct, letting out a quiet huff. ”i… don’t want your students to make fun of me.”

a raspy chuckle leaves his lips.

”they won’t,” he assures you, a hint of pride in his voice. ”they’re much too well-behaved.”

”well-behaved around you, maybe,” you mutter, with a roll of your eyes. nuzzling against his jaw, frowning softly. ”… you’re coddling them.”

”i coddle you,” he purrs, with an affectionate squeeze to your hip. ”i don’t see you complaining, do i?”

”… that’s different.”

the tiny pout on your lips makes him laugh, he can’t help it. but he indulges you, always, all too eager to let you have your way. ”of course it is,” he coos, deep and teasing. ”how could i ever suggest otherwise?”

you fail to stifle a smile. feeling his skin against yours, his fingers rubbing absentminded patterns into your back, that soothing voice rumbling in your ear. when he leans down, to pick up the paper cup, you’re filled with a sense of purpose. you’ll just have to make a better cup next time — one that doesn’t wobble, with a smoother texture, perfectly symmetrical. one he can show off to his students and coworkers, the same way you do with all the pottery he’s given you.

suguru deserves nothing but the best, after all.

… what you don’t realize is that it won’t matter. even if you give him a better option, he’ll continue to use the cup he has now — with a sheepish little smile, and a sorry, honey. it seems i’ve gotten attached.

(… you suppose it’s the thought that counts.)

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff

2K notes · View notes

bokutoko · 9 days ago

Text

osamu loves you like it’s breathing.

sure, you might be cranky in the morning before your first cup of coffee. that’s why he makes sure he has your favorite mug already underneath the keurig machine.

“samu, i’m about to kill somebody.”

“that’s real unfortunate, darlin'," he answers as he presses the 12 oz button to brew your coffee.

and of course, you might return home late, weary and drained—physically, mentally, and emotionally—from work. when you’re quiet, too quiet, he knows the thoughts in that pretty brain of yours are getting a little too loud, and with a soft sigh, he guides you to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower or bath.

and while you rest your mind, he prepares your comfort meal, knowing it’ll ease your mind, even if just slightly.

“you didn’t have to do all this,” you’d whisper after dinner as you both sit on the roof of the building, watching the stars.

looking down at you, he’d just give you that same soft, crooked smile that always brings one to your own face with the same gentle words: “i know. i wanted to.”

ever such a stubborn human... "i know i can be a lot."

"good thing i can't ever get enough of ya."

so when you feel difficult to love, osamu is always there to remind you that it's easy and innate, like how your heart beats in your chest and pumps blood through your veins. you’re in his heart, in his veins.

hell, you are his heart, and he'll continue to prove to you that you deserve it—brewing your coffee and cooking you supper for the rest of your loving, quiet days together.

a/n: such a gentle, patient man… sigh

masterlist | navigation

420 notes · View notes

someonegoood · 28 days ago

Text

THE CORPORATE EQUATION chapter 1 ✫ jeon jungkook

after Jeon resigned as CEO, meeting his son —the new CEO— was not a good experience. Despite the tension, you notice hints of vulnerability beneath his moody exterior.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

chapter one: the new CEO

Life has a strange way of changing in the blink of an eye. One moment, you’re comfortable in the routine of your daily life, and the next, everything shifts—like the wind knocking over an entire stack of carefully arranged folders. For you, this particular change had come faster than expected. Jeon, the former CEO, had resigned abruptly, leaving the company in turmoil. There was little time to adjust, and even less time to process what was happening.

Jeon had been a constant at the helm for years. His presence had shaped the company's foundation, and you had respected him for his sharp, calculated leadership. He had guided the company with precision and there was always an understanding that he could be trusted to keep the ship steady. But now, his son, Jeon Jungkook, was stepping into his shoes. You knew little about him, except for the occasional gossip that had floated through the company—rumours that painted him as cold, unapproachable and... gorgeous.

Today was the day. You went through your morning routine on autopilot. Coffee brewed in the corner as you brushed your hair, choosing practicality over flair. A pencil skirt, a pastel blouse, and your trusty blazer—a combination that felt like armour against the unpredictability of corporate life. You grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

At this time of the morning, the bus stop was alive with the quiet energy of early morning commuters. A mix of sleepiness and determination hung in the air as people shuffled about with their eyes fixed on their phones or the horizon. You settled into your usual seat by the window, gazing at the familiar cityscape rushing by. Buildings stacked against one another and the occasional cyclist weaving through traffic—it all felt comfortingly ordinary.

By the time you reached the office, the hum of whispered speculation filled the air. As you walked through the halls, exchanging polite smiles with colleagues, you couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to carry a certain tension in their movements.

Soojin appeared at your side. Her usual cheery demeanour was like a ray of sunshine cutting through the tense atmosphere. She was holding a steaming cup of tea, her neatly styled bob bouncing slightly as she walked. She started working at the same time you entered the company, therefore you've become really good friends.

“Good morning!” she chirped, setting her cup down on the counter. She leaned against it, her bright eyes scanning your stack of papers. “Prepared for our big meeting with the new boss?”

“Morning, Soojin,” you replied, offering her a small smile. “Yeah, just making sure I have everything in order. First impressions matter, right?”

“Absolutely,” she said, nodding emphatically. “But don’t stress too much. From what I’ve heard, Jeon Jungkook isn’t exactly the chatty type. Rumour has it he’s more about the Finances Department than the HR one.”

You gave a small laugh, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’ve heard that too. But, you know, I’m still hoping he’ll be open to ideas. We'll present the proposal for improving employee morale that I think could really make a difference.”

Soojin raised an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between impressed and skeptical. “Employee morale? The one Dohyun and you made up? Bold move. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great. But with all the talk about how cold he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he shuts it down...”

“Maybe,” you admitted, straightening your papers and tucking them into your folder. “But I have to try, right? If we don’t focus on the people here, everything else will eventually fall apart.”

Soojin tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “That’s what I like about you. Always seeing the bright side, even when everyone else is freaking out. Just… don’t let him discourage you, okay? From what I hear, he can be a bit intimidating.”

You chuckled, though you couldn’t completely mask the nervous flutter in your stomach. “Honestly, how bad can he be? He’s human too, right?”

Soojin shrugged, her expression playful but knowing. “Sure, he’s human. But some humans are more like icebergs—most of them are hidden, and what you can see is cold and sharp.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Soojin said with a grin, taking her cup of tea and stepping aside as Dohyun, another member form the HR team approached, nodding a greeting to both of you. The three of you started to walk towards the conference room. “Anyway, you’ve got this. Just be yourself. If anyone can charm an iceberg, it’s you.”

Her words were meant to be encouraging, but as you adjusted your blazer, you couldn’t shake the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. If Jeon Jungkook really was as cold and impenetrable as the rumours suggested, this meeting was going to be anything but easy.

The long, polished table gleamed under the overhead lights, the leather chairs arranged neatly around it. You set your notebook and pen in front of you, taking a moment to mentally prepare for the meeting ahead. The other members of the HR team began to trickle in—Soojin with her ever-present cheerful energy, Dohyun looking focused as always, Joonho balancing his coffee precariously in one hand, and Minji projecting her usual calm authority.

The room was alive with small talk until the atmosphere shifted. A hush fell over the space as the door opened, and in walked Jeon Jungkook.

Your first thought was how young he looked, though the sharp lines of his suit and the intensity in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t someone to be underestimated. He exuded confidence, the kind that came with knowing you didn’t need to say much to command a room. His gaze swept over the table, assessing each face with a precision that made your heart quicken. When his eyes landed on you, they lingered for a fraction of a second longer than expected, and the weight of his attention was almost tangible.

He was handsome.

He took his place at the head of the table without so much as a greeting. His assistant, Hajun, followed closely behind, setting a sleek portfolio in front of him.

"Let’s get started," Jungkook said, his voice low and firm, cutting through the silence like a blade.

You straightened in your seat, your pen poised to take notes. The meeting began, and it was immediately clear that Jungkook operated differently from his father. He listened, but his responses were curt, his tone leaving little room for argument. When your turn came to speak, you offered your carefully prepared suggestion for improving workplace morale—an idea you were confident would resonate with his father, the former CEO.

“Good morning, everyone,” you began, glancing around the table before focusing on Jungkook. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you had to resist the urge to look away. “I’d like to propose an initiative to improve employee morale and engagement. We’ve seen a lot of changes recently, and I believe it’s crucial to invest in the well-being of our team during this transitional period.”

But Jungkook’s expression didn’t shift.

After a few seconds, he decided to say something. “That’s too idealistic,” he said flatly. His voice was calm, but the dismissal stung all the same. Every team member looked astonished, “We don’t have the resources to entertain abstract ideas right now. We need to focus on tangible results, not wishful positive thinking.”

The room went silent, all eyes shifting between you and him. A wave of heat rose to your face, but you refused to let it deter you. Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and replied.

“I understand your concerns, Mr. Jeon,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “But I respectfully disagree. Employee morale isn’t an abstract idea; it’s a measurable factor that directly impacts productivity and retention. If we don’t address the root causes of disengagement now, we’ll face bigger problems down the line—higher turnover, lower performance, and potentially a damaged reputation.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your rebuttal. His pen paused mid-tap, and he leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze narrowing as he studied you. For a moment, the room was still, the air thick with anticipation. Jungkook didn’t speak immediately, his expression unreadable as his gaze lingered on you.

Finally, he nodded, though it was more an acknowledgment of your persistence than an agreement. “Noted,” he said simply before shifting his attention to the next person on the agenda.

As you sat back down, your heart was racing, but you kept your composure. Soojin shot you a quick, encouraging smile from across the table, and you gave her a subtle nod in return. Jungkook’s dismissal still stung, but you couldn’t help feeling a small sense of victory. You had stood your ground, and even if he hadn’t agreed, you knew you had planted a seed.

Whether he realized it or not, Jeon Jungkook was going to hear you out—eventually.

Despite his half-rejection, you couldn’t help but notice the long hours Jungkook kept. He stayed in his office long after everyone else had left, his office door always ajar, the flicker of his desk lamp visible through the cracks. Curiosity gnawed at you, as you were heading home yourself, you decided to stop by and check in on him. Your offices were facing each other, therefore you could see everything he was doing.

You knocked lightly on the doorframe, unsure of what kind of reception you would get.

"Mr. Jeon?" you began, your voice tentative. "I noticed you’re still here. Is everything okay?"

Jungkook glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes were sharp, calculating as they locked onto yours. "I don’t need a babysitter," he muttered before quickly returning to the papers in front of him. There was no warmth in his tone, no indication that he appreciated the concern. But there was something else—something beneath his cold exterior—that you couldn’t quite place. A flicker of frustration, of exhaustion, maybe. It was there, but only for a split second.

You had expected him to shut the door in your face, but instead, he let you stand there for a few seconds longer before the silence stretched uncomfortably between you.

"I just thought… maybe you could use a break. It’s important to recharge, too," you said, trying once more, hoping to break through that thick wall he had built around himself.

He didn’t respond, just stared at you as though trying to decide whether or not your presence was a disruption. When he spoke, his voice was lower, edged with something you hadn’t heard before—a mixture of stress and frustration.

"I don’t have the luxury of downtime," he muttered, his gaze turning back to the papers in front of him, his fingers tapping against the desk in a rapid rhythm. "My father was right to step down when he did. This place it’s too much to handle..."

You didn’t know if you were meant to hear this. Jungkook’s voice cracked just slightly as he spoke, a rare moment of vulnerability that cut through his otherwise unyielding exterior. But before you could respond, he snapped, his tone returning to its familiar sharpness.

"Just go. I’ll manage," he said, his gaze hardening once more as he gestured toward the door.

As you left, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Jungkook was difficult, a person wrapped in layers of pride and frustration, but there was something about that brief moment of honesty—something raw—that made you wonder if there was more to him than the impenetrable CEO persona he projected.

You didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was clear: this man, this new CEO, was not the cold-hearted figure he appeared to be on the surface. And perhaps, in time, you could find a way to break through that wall he had so carefully constructed around himself.

The HR office buzzed with an unusual energy, a rare break from the grind. Joonho’s birthday had turned the space into a small celebration, complete with an assortment of pastries from the bakery down the street. Laughter echoed as everyone gathered around, sipping coffee and chatting.

“Okay, okay!” Minji said, clapping her hands for attention. “We have an important task for you, sunshine.” Her tone was teasing, but her expression was determined as her gaze landed squarely on you.

You raised an eyebrow, your mouth still full of a bite of croissant. “Me? What’s this ‘important task’?”

Dohyun chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “You’ve got to invite Mr. Jeon to join us.”

You blinked, startled. “Jeon Jungkook? The CEO? Are you serious?”

Joonho nodded vigorously, his cheeks slightly pink from the attention everyone was showering on him. “Come on! It’s my birthday, and maybe you can get him to crack a smile. Plus,” he added with a sly grin, “you’re the only one brave enough to talk back to him.”

Minji, ever the voice of reason, stepped in with a gentle smile. “It’s worth a try. Even if he says no, it’ll show that we’re trying to include him. And who knows? He might surprise us.”

You sighed, setting your half-eaten pastry on the edge of your desk. “Fine, I’ll do it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if he declines.” The team erupted into cheers and laughter as you smoothed down your blouse, squared your shoulders, and made your way toward his office.

The door to Mr. Jeaon's office was slightly ajar, but you hesitated before knocking. A voice from inside stopped you—a woman’s voice, clear and firm. You hesitated outside his office door, adjusting your grip on the folder in your hands, but before you could knock, a low, feminine laugh drifted through the gap.

"Come on, Jungkook," the woman purred, her tone smooth and teasing. "You can’t keep shutting the world out. At some point, even you need a little... release."

Your breath caught, and your fingers froze just above the door. The casual intimacy of her words, paired with the warmth in her voice, made your face heat.

Jungkook’s reply was quieter but firm. “This isn’t the time for distractions. You know that better than anyone.”

“Oh, please,” she shot back, amusement dancing in her voice. “You’ve been coiled so tight since taking this job, I’m surprised you haven’t snapped. What’s the harm in loosening up a little? Just for tonight? As we used to...”

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy and charged. You felt your heart hammer in your chest. Should you turn back? But the folder in your hands reminded you of why you were here—no matter how awkward it might be.

Gathering your courage, you knocked lightly, hoping the sound would cut through whatever tension had been brewing inside.

The voices went silent.

“Come in,” Jungkook called, his tone now sharp and businesslike.

You pushed the door open cautiously. Jungkook stood behind his desk, phone in hand, his expression unreadable. His tie was slightly askew, and there was a faint flush at the base of his neck. The woman’s voice was gone, though the faint click of a phone being disconnected told you she was still on the other end of the call just moments ago.

He met your eyes, and for a split second, you thought you saw something flicker there—annoyance? Embarrassment? It was gone before you could decipher it.

“Miss,” he said, his voice cool. “What is it?”

You cleared your throat, trying to push past the awkwardness. “I just came to invite you to join the HR team. We’re celebrating Joonho’s birthday, and we thought it would be nice to include you.”

Jungkook raised a brow, the tension in his jaw softening slightly. “I’m busy,” he replied, gesturing to the neatly organized stack of documents on his desk. “And I don’t need any of that.”

His words were dismissive, but there was a faint edge to his tone like he was still distracted by the previous conversation.

“I see,” you said, masking your confusion with a polite smile. “Well, the invitation’s there if you change your mind. Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder about the woman on the phone—and the look on Jungkook’s face when he thought no one was watching. Was he dating someone? Seeing someone? Or just a fling...? You suddenly stop in your tracks, You shouldn't be thinking about our boss's private life.

Later that evening, as the office grew quiet and most of your colleagues had left, you found yourself lingering in the HR office as every other day. The leftover pastries from Joonho’s birthday were spread across the table, and your gaze fell on the last remaining matcha cream puff, Joonho’s favourite and, coincidentally, the one you had secretly saved for Jungkook.

You still couldn’t shake the tension from earlier—the clipped way he’d dismissed your invitation and the strange conversation you had overheard. The woman’s sultry tone and Jungkook’s responses echoed faintly in your mind, leaving you with more questions than answers. But one thing was clear: whatever weight Jungkook carried on his shoulders, it was heavy.

You picked up the pastry and carefully placed it in a small box, folding the lid neatly. Grabbing a purple sticky note, you scribbled a simple message:

"Eat it, please! We would have loved to have you today – Miss Y/N"

It wasn’t much, but it felt like the right thing to do—a small gesture to remind him that someone in this office cared, even if he tried to push everyone away.

With the box in hand, you made your way to his office. The lights were still on, but the room was empty, his jacket slung neatly over the back of his chair. You stepped inside hesitantly, placing the box squarely in the centre of his desk. The sticky note caught the glow of his desk lamp, and you smiled faintly at the absurdity of it all.

Would he eat it? Would he crumple up the note and toss it in the trash? You had no idea.

You turned off the light in his office as you left, leaving the pastry and the quiet note behind. As the elevator doors closed and you descended to the lobby, you couldn’t help but wonder if this tiny act of kindness might crack the icy façade Jungkook seemed determined to maintain.

If nothing else, you’d tried—and that was enough for now.

The quiet hum of the office after hours was a rare solace for Jungkook. He leaned back in his chair, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he replayed Yuna’s voice in his head.

“Jungkook,” she had said, her tone dripping with something he couldn’t quite place—mockery, concern, or maybe a blend of both. “You can’t keep running yourself into the ground. You’ve always had this... obsession with proving yourself. It’s exhausting just to watch, honestly.”

Her words cut deeper than he wanted to admit. Yuna had always known how to push his buttons, her insight into his insecurities as sharp as ever. “You’ve been coiled so tight since taking this job, I’m surprised you haven’t snapped. What’s the harm in loosening up a little? Just for tonight? As we used to...”

He’d ended the call quickly, his jaw tight as he shoved the phone into his pocket. He hated that she still had that effect on him, that she could twist his emotions with a single conversation.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the weight of her words as he pushed open the door to his office. He froze mid-step, his gaze landing on the small box sitting on his desk. The office was dim, lit only by the city lights filtering through the large windows, but the glow of his desk lamp illuminated the neat handwriting on a sticky note:

"Eat it, please! We would have loved to have you today – Miss Y/N"

For a moment, Jungkook just stood there, staring at the note. His brow furrowed as he approached the desk, setting down the files he’d been carrying. The box was small and unassuming, but the gesture felt oddly personal—out of place in the structured world he inhabited.

He peeled the note off the box and read it again, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You.

He thought back to earlier that day, to the way you had stood in his office, your invitation soft but genuine. He’d brushed you off, too preoccupied with Yuna’s voice still echoing in his mind to give you the consideration it deserved. And yet, here you were—persisting in your quiet, unassuming way.

Curiosity got the better of him. Jungkook opened the box to reveal a matcha cream puff, the delicate pastry perfectly intact. He hesitated, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts.

Why would she do this? What was she expecting in return?

But as he sat down and leaned back in his chair, the sharp ache in his chest from Yuna’s words began to dull. He picked up the cream puff, taking a small bite. The sweetness melted on his tongue, a stark contrast to the bitterness of these past days.

Jungkook glanced at the sticky note again, the corner of his mouth twitching as if it might curve into a smile—but it didn’t quite get there.

“Eat it, please,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he let the tension in his shoulders ease. The pastry wasn’t just a dessert—it was a reminder that not everyone wanted something from him. As he finished the cream puff, Jungkook placed the note back on his desk, staring at it longer than he intended.

“Miss Y/N,” he said softly, her name a strange comfort in the quiet of his office.

He didn’t know what to make of you yet, but one thing was certain—you were different, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

previous / next

434 notes · View notes