The Office Dynamics
A/N - I had so much fun writing these! Each of these are inspired by characters and scenes from The Office
Disclaimer: this does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only!
Chan
The Late-Night Desk Conversations
While chan has to stay late every night to keep on top of his copious amounts of work, you choose to stay. Not because you’re so dedicated to your role, but because it’s an excuse to hang out with him. And so, it’s become part of your daily routine to be the only two left at work after hours.
As expected, it’s just the two of you once again, the glow of your computer screens and the sound of the rain tapping against the office windows. You break the steady silence with a yawn, stretching dramatically, which makes Chan glance your way. “Need a bedtime story?”
You smirk. “What, like The Tragic Life of an Overworked Employee?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re hilarious. Remind me why I put up with you?”
You grin. “Because if I weren’t here, you’d have no one to make fun of your disastrous caffeine addiction.”
It’s moments like this that make your heart flutter. It’s just so quiet, easy, and comfortable.
There are times when you can tell he wants to go, but he always lingers by your desk a little longer, as though he’s waiting for something… maybe he’s hoping you’ll ask him to stay… like right now. There he is, loitering. And you weigh the thought for a second as it crosses your mind.
Your fingers hover over your keyboard, pretending to still be focused on your work. But the words aren’t making sense anymore, and neither is the way your heart beats just a little faster when Chan doesn’t immediately grab his things to leave.
Instead, he stretches again, arms reaching over his head, his sweater riding up just slightly before he lets out a soft sigh. “Alright,” he says, but he doesn’t move. He just looks at you, eyes flickering with something teasing yet unreadable. “Tell me, how much more suffering do we have left?”
You glance at the document in front of you, but really, you’re stalling. “Depends,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Are we talking about tonight’s workload or the existential kind?”
Chan chuckles, shaking his head. “Both, obviously.”
You exhale dramatically, tapping your pen against your desk. “Well, tonight’s suffering is about… thirty more minutes if we really focus.” You pause, then add, “Existential suffering? Probably lifelong.”
He lets out a low laugh, and the sound does something dangerous to you.
“See, this is why I like being around you,” he muses. “You make my impending burnout entertaining.”
You smirk. “Happy to help.”
A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the rain outside and the occasional clatter of keys. Chan, now sat back in his chair and not making any real move to leave, spins his pen between his fingers before finally speaking again.
“You know,” he starts, quieter this time, “you don’t actually have to stay late every night.”
You blink at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone.
“Says the guy who practically has his name engraved on this desk?” you counter, trying to keep it light.
He smiles, but there’s something softer in it now. “I mean it. You could go home. Get some sleep. Not stress over this job like you do. I’d still be here.”
And that’s the thing, isn’t it? You could go home. You could leave him to his late-night habits, his empty office, his half-drunk cups of coffee and his relentless need to be the last one standing. But you don’t. You never do.
Maybe he knows that. Maybe that’s why he stays by your desk longer than he needs to.
You could say something. Ask him why he always waits until you’re done before packing up. Ask him why he notices your yawns, your stretches, the way your fingers slow on the keyboard when you start getting tired. Ask him why he lingers.
But instead, you just smile.
“Yeah,” you say, looking back at your screen. “I know.”
Minho
The Post-It Note Pranks
Your daily routine with Minho consists of endless banter, stolen glances, and… a Post-it note war. A little unusual, yes, but it’s been happening for so long that neither of you can remember how it started… only that you’re both incredibly competitive and stubborn.
Today’s round begins when you stick a note to his monitor: Try to look less busy today.
It doesn’t take him long to retaliate with one on your keyboard: Try to do actual work today.
And so the war escalates. You retaliate with a note on his stapler: I licked this.
So Minho counters with one on your favourite coffee mug: I spit in this. (He didn’t. Probably. Hopefully.)
The next morning you arrive to find a hundred yellow notes covering your desk, each reading: I win.
You huff, turning to the culprit. “Minho-”
But then, from the corner of your eye, you spot a pink one hidden under your keyboard. Sheepishly picking it up, you read: By the way, you look really pretty when you’re annoyed.
Well, that made your heart skip an unexpected beat.
You continue to stare at the note, your heart pounding a little too fast for your liking. Then your eyes flitter to find Minho, still watching you, with his chin propped on his hand and that infuriatingly smug smirk on his lips. He quirks a brow, waiting for your reaction.
Feeling irritation at his clear attempt to fluster you into submission, you grasp a pen and scribble a reply before closing off the few steps to his desk and sticking the note right onto his forehead.
He blinks up at you, momentarily stunned, before peeling it off to read: That’s cheating.
But he simply chuckles, the sound low and amused, and you’re too aware of how close you’re standing. His eyes flick from the note back to you, and for a second, the office noise—keyboards clicking, printers whirring, distant voices—fades into the background.
Then he leans forward slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch, and murmurs, “You’re just mad because you liked it.”
You scoff, crossing your arms even as heat creeps up your neck. “In your dreams.”
He hums, twirling the note between his fingers. “Maybe.”
Before you can fire back, he casually sticks another Post-it onto your wrist. You glance down, expecting another teasing jab.
Instead, it’s just a simple message: Lunch?
You hesitate for only a second before rolling your eyes and scribbling your response. When you slap the note onto his desk, he barely has time to grab it before you’re already walking away.
He flips it over and grins.
Try to keep up.
Changbin
The “Fake Dating” Bet
You and Changbin are always fake-flirting in the office. It started as a joke - dramatic declarations of love, exaggerated winks, calling each other “babe” just to get reactions.
But then your pesky colleague Jisung bets that neither of you can keep it up for a full week without actually catching feelings.
You and Changbin just share a smug side glance. Challenge accepted.
Day one and you’re already getting alarmingly used to it: Changbin leans against your desk, smirking. “Morning, darling. Did you miss me?”
You roll your eyes. “Tragically, yes. My heart aches without you.”
The problem? You do miss him. You do feel your heart race when he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. And by day two, when he casually pulls you into a side hug and murmurs, “You know… we’re really good at this,” you wonder - what if we weren’t faking?
Day Three: You’re officially losing it.
Changbin’s hand finds the small of your back as he guides you through the office, and instead of rolling your eyes or making a joke, you nearly lean into it. When he calls you babe in that lazy, affectionate tone, your stomach does an embarrassing summersault.
Jisung is watching. He’s always watching, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observes every lingering glance, every subtle touch. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.
“You’re getting soft,” you murmur to Changbin when you’re alone in the break room. You mean it as a tease, but it comes out quieter, more uncertain than you intended.
Changbin raises a brow, stepping closer. “Am I?”
He’s so close. The air between you crackles with something that wasn’t there before—except, maybe it was, and you were just too busy pretending to notice. Although, you don’t step away. And neither does he.
Day Four: You’re so screwed.
You tell yourself you’re overthinking it. That this is just the nature of the bet. That Changbin isn’t actually looking at you differently, and your heart isn’t racing faster than usual when he throws an arm over your shoulders and keeps it there, fingers idly tracing patterns.
Then, after a long day, you find yourself walking out together. It’s dark, the city buzzing with life, and Changbin hesitates before speaking.
“You know this is the last day, right?” His voice is softer than usual, like he’s testing the weight of the words.
You nod. You’ve been thinking about it all day. Tomorrow, the bet is over. And then what?
Before you’re able to spiral, Changbin reaches for your hand. Not dramatically, not for show—just a gentle brush of his fingers against yours, hesitant but hopeful.
“We don’t have to stop,” he murmurs.
You should laugh it off. Call his bluff. Make a joke about it. But instead, you allow his fingers to thread through yours.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “I know.”
Hyunjin
The Office ‘Secret Handshake’
You and Hyunjin have a dumb, overly complicated handshake that started as an inside joke but has now become a thing that everyone knows about and finds incredibly annoying.
It’s all dramatic finger snaps, spins, and an unnecessary over-the-head high-five at the end. Everyone rolls their eyes when you do it, but neither of you care.
Until one day, during a particularly boring meeting, when you glance at Hyunjin from across the conference table. Without a word, you start subtly miming the first move under the table.
Hyunjin bites his lip to hold back a laugh before mirroring your movements. You both manage to get through the whole sequence without breaking eye contact, even as Chan - your long-suffering team leader - sighs, “I know you two are doing that stupid handshake.”
After the meeting, Hyunjin nudges you, grinning. “Maybe we should make it our thing for real.”
Your heart skips. But before you can question him on it, he sends you a wink and strolls away.
You stand frozen in the hallway for a second, replaying Hyunjin’s words in your head. What does he even mean? The handshake is already your thing. It’s dumb, ridiculous, and completely unnecessary—but it’s yours. Unless…
Your thoughts short-circuit for a second, the thought coming into your mind and destroying your rationality.
By the time you’re able to shake yourself out of it, Hyunjin has long disappeared, but you can still hear his whistling from down the hall - sounding so casual for someone who’s just wrecked your entire brain.
And it’s not until mid-afternoon when you see him again.
Acting on impulse, you grab onto his sleeve just as he passes you in the break rooms entrance. “Okay, what did you mean earlier?” You try (but miserably fail) to sound casual.
Hyunjin just looks at you with a slow, knowing grin spreading across his lips. “What does what mean?”
You narrow your eyes, knowing that he’s acting sheepish because he thinks it’s funny. “You know.”
He tilts his head, pretending to think, then suddenly steps closer. The break room is luckily empty, but still, the space between you feels too small. “Are you asking if I meant us?”
Your breath hitches, the air becoming so thick you feel like you’re about to suffocate. He watches you for a moment, his confident stare burning into you - trying to read every emotion and thought that flickers behind your eyes. “Because I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it.”
Your brain short-circuits again.
There’s no way he isn’t enjoying this - he has that glint in his eye, the one he gets when he’s teasing but also dead serious. And the worst part? You can’t even think of a good response because you want more, too.
Before you can properly process it, Hyunjin reaches for your hand and, with a dramatic flourish, initiates the first move of your handshake. Automatically, your fingers snap into place, muscle memory taking over. The spin, the sync, the final over-the-head high-five - it’s all the same. Except now, as your hands linger just a second too long at the end, Hyunjin’s gaze doesn’t waver.
“So?” his voice is softer now. “Our thing?”
Your heart pounds, but you can’t fight your grin.
“Yeah,” you smile, lacing your fingers through his before he can pull away. “Our thing.”
Jisung
The Office Supply Heist
Jisung has a bad habit of stealing things from your desk - pens, sticky notes, even your stress ball. Every time you call him out, he plays dumb. “What? Maybe you’re just bad at keeping track of your stuff.”
But you’ve finally had enough. So you set a trap. Leaving a small notebook and pen on your desk, you write on the first page I know what you’re doing - so when he flips it open he’ll see.
Sure enough, Jisung swipes it within the hour.
When he flips the notebook open and sees the message, he bursts out laughing. “Okay, maybe I take your stuff. But only ‘cause it’s yours.”
You cross your arms. “That’s the worst excuse ever.”
Jisung shrugs, twirling your stolen pen between his fingers. “Or… it’s the best one.”
You roll your eyes, but secretly? You kind of love it. Nonetheless, you scoff, shaking your head as he continues twirling the pen like some kind of smug magician. “So what, you steal my stuff just for fun?”
He smirks. “It’s more entertaining than ordering office supplies like a normal person.”
You narrow your eyes. “You do realize the company provides free stationary, right? There’s literally a whole cabinet full of it.”
Jisung tilts his head, pretending to consider this. “But those don’t have the same charm. Yours are just… better.”
You let out an exasperated sigh. “That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” he counters, grinning. “It’s like stealing fries off someone’s plate. They just taste better.”
“That is not the same thing!”
Jisung just shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “Agree to disagree?”
You shoot him a glare before holding out your hand expectantly. “Give it back.”
He hesitates, twirling the pen one last time between his fingers. “Hmm. Nah.”
“Jisung.”
“What?” He leans back in his chair, completely unfazed. “They’ve got sentimental value now.”
You stare at him, deadpan. “They’ve been in your possession for thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, and in those thirty seconds, they’ve become my favorite stationary.”
You lunge forward in an attempt to snatch the pen first, but Jisung is faster, jerking his hand away just in time. Laughing, he tucks the pen into his pocket before grabbing the notebook and standing up. “Tell you what - if you want them back, you’ll just have to come steal them from me.”
Before you can argue, he winks and strolls off toward the break room, leaving you sitting there, half-annoyed, half-amused. You sigh, shaking your head. This is not over.
Felix
The “Accidental” Coffee Dates
Felix always seems to be in the break room at the exact same time as you. Suspiciously so.
“Wow,” you say one morning, entering the break room at the same time you do everyday to retrieve your first cup of coffee. “What are the odds?”
Felix blinks innocently, but his cheeks tinge just the slighted bit pink. “What do you mean?”
“You definitely time your breaks to match mine.”
He grins sheepishly, “Maybe I just happen to also need a beverage at precisely -” he pauses to check his watch, “10:03am?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? So you don’t just come in here to check what mug I’m using so you can steal it from me later? Because somehow they always end up on your desk?”
Felix smirks. “Well, maybe I don’t want a whole coffee and I just like sharing yours.”
Well, that makes your heart stutter.
Felix watches in amusement, waiting for whatever sassy comeback you’re coming up with. He’s never flirted with you so blatantly before, but it’s clear he’s trying to figure out if you’re into him too.
You hesitate, your fingers tightening slightly around your mug. The break room feels smaller somehow, quieter, the usual hum of the coffee machine and the distant chatter of coworkers fading into the background. Felix is still watching you, his smirk softened into something more patient, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll take the bait.
Your mind races through the past few weeks - the way he always seems to find a reason to linger when you walk in, how his “accidental” coffee thefts have become a running joke, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
Maybe it really was time to stop pretending this was just about caffeine.
You take a slow sip of your coffee, then tilt your head. “So, what you’re saying is… we should just only share one cup from now on?”
Felix grins, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression. Surprise, maybe. A little anticipation. “I mean, if that’s what you’re offering.”
You tap your fingers against your mug, considering. “Mmm. I don’t know. Feels like a dangerous precedent.”
“Dangerous?” He leans in slightly, elbows resting on the counter. “How so?”
“Well,” you muse, pretending to think it over, “first it’s coffee. Then maybe it’s lunch. Next thing I know, we’re getting dinner, and suddenly people start thinking it’s a thing.”
Felix hums in amusement, nodding as if this is a very serious concern. “Sounds risky.”
“Very.”
He takes a step back to fully assess you, folding his arms. “And would that be such a bad thing?”
There it is. The shift from playful to real, the challenge hidden beneath his casual tone. He’s putting the question out there, giving you a choice. Your heart instantly kicks into overdrive.
You could brush it off, keep playing the game. Or you could take the leap.
You exhale, setting your cup down on the counter, exactly halfway between you. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”
Felix’s smile is slow, knowing. Then, he picks up your cup, slowly lifting it to his lips, taking an exaggerated sip before handing it back. “Guess so.”
Your fingers brush as you take it, and just like that, the game changes.
Seungmin
The Mutual Roasting Sessions
Your entire relationship with Seungmin revolves around mercilessly making fun of each other. It’s just how it’s always been between you, so effortless and lighthearted. And you know he’s as addicted to it as much as you are.
For example, yesterday when you walked past his desk, you caught a glance at him scribbling something, working away like a maniac and couldn’t resist: “Seungmin, you literally have the handwriting of a serial killer.”
“At least I write things down. When’s the last time you actually met a deadline?” He’d quipped after you, throwing you a quick glance that revealed just a hint of his smirk.
Okay, you admit, that was fair… you do have a habit of being a little late with deadlines.
But were you about to let him get away with it? Absolutely not. However the next day, you were mid-roast when Seungmin had suddenly leaned in closer, smirking. “You know, if we ever dated, our love language would just be insults.”
Your first response was to let out a snort, followed by an “If we dated?”
Oh, you’d regretted that right away. It’d only taken half a second to notice the way his smirk faltered. But Seungmin had been thrown off by your reaction for just long enough to let slip the flicker of something real behind his eyes.
“Shut up,” he’d muttered, looking away.
Then later that same day, you’d caught him sneaking a glance at you, and suddenly, the teasing didn’t feel so lighthearted anymore.
Which brings you to present day and, for the first time in forever, Seungmin seems off his game. It’s subtle, but you notice it - the way his comebacks aren’t as sharp, the way he hesitates a fraction of a second too long before responding. The way he keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.
If the other day hadn’t happened, you would have found it funny, the King of merciless teasing suddenly being flustered? Hilarious. But now, you can’t help feeling awkward - wishing you’d not made a joke out of him before.
In an attempt to restore your normal dynamic, you try to test the waters. The next time you see him, you make a show of stretching before dropping onto the seat beside him with a sigh. “Man, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Seungmin.”
He raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Finally admitting I’m the best thing in your life?”
“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “I mean, who else would insult me so consistently? I’d have to pay someone.”
His mouth twitches like he wants to smile but refuses to give you the satisfaction. “That’s true. You’d be lost without me.”
There it is again - that tiny hesitation, the way his gaze flickers to your lips before snapping back up. You should let it go. You should let the moment pass. But you’re insistent.
Instead, you tilt your head, feigning curiosity. “Hey, Seungmin?”
“What?”
You lean in slightly, just enough to close some of the space between you. His breath hitches.
“Were you serious?” you ask, voice quieter now. “About… the dating thing?”
For a second, Seungmin does nothing. Then, he scoffs, but it sounds a little forced. “You think I’d actually want to date you?”
You don’t even flinch. “I think you wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t at least think about it.”
Silence. A long, charged pause where neither of you move. Then-
“Shut up,” he mutters again, looking away.
But this time, when you catch him sneaking another glance at you, he doesn’t look away so fast. This time, he holds your gaze for just a second longer. And this time, you maintain eye contact with him, trying to prove that you’re not as against the idea as you’d initially made out to be.
Jeongin
The ‘Fake Office Enemies’ Game
You and Jeongin pretend to be workplace rivals for fun. You’re not sure how, or why, it started. All you know is that you’re both on the same strange wavelength and just get so much fulfilment from it.
“You got the last blueberry muffin?” you gasp.
Jeongin smirks, taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Should’ve been quicker.”
So you decide to take it up a notch, escalating things by dramatically declaring, “Jeongin is my nemesis!” in front of the entire office.
To your surprise, he steps closer, grinning. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”
You hesitate - too aware of how close he suddenly is. His smile is still teasing, but there’s something softer in his eyes. Something almost fond.
“…I’ll get my revenge,” you say weakly.
Jeongin hums, tilting his head. “Looking forward to it.”
The game, it seems, just got a little more complicated.
You tell yourself it’s nothing - just another moment of playful rivalry, the same as always. But as you settle back into your seat, trying to shake the heat lingering on your face, you can feel Jeongin’s eyes still on you.
The rest of the office drones on, people returning to their work or previous discussions, but your mind is elsewhere. You’re too aware of Jeongin sitting just across the room, the way his fingers drum idly against his desk, the occasional amused glance he sends your way like he knows something you don’t.
When lunch finally rolls around, you make a quick escape, heading toward the break room for a moment to collect yourself. You shouldn’t feel this flustered - this has always been a game. A silly, harmless, pretend-rivalry game.
But the way Jeongin had leaned in earlier, the way his voice dropped just slightly, the way his smirk had softened at the edges… It didn’t feel like just a game anymore.
You shake your head, reaching for the coffee pot, only to find it completely empty.
A familiar voice hums from behind you. “Looking for something?”
You turn, already knowing what you’ll see. Jeongin, holding the last fresh cup of coffee in his hands, lifting it to his lips with that signature smirk.
You narrow your eyes. “You did that on purpose.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says innocently, taking a slow sip.
Your hand twitches at your side. “You do realize this means war?”
Jeongin tilts his head, pretending to consider your words. “Hmm. Does it, though?” His gaze flickers down to you, the teasing light still in his eyes, but something else lingers there too. Something almost expectant.
You don’t know why your heart speeds up at that look.
Before you can come up with a witty retort, he steps forward, lowering his voice just enough that you can feel the shift in the air between you. “You’re taking this rivalry thing pretty seriously,” he muses, tapping a finger against the coffee cup. “Almost like you actually care about beating me.”
You scoff, folding your arms. “Of course I do. What kind of nemesis would I be if I didn’t?”
He grins, leaning in just a fraction closer. “Oh? So if I stopped playing along, you’d miss it?”
Your breath catches. It’s a simple question. A playful one, really. But for some reason, you don’t have an answer ready.
Jeongin watches you carefully, the smirk on his lips softening ever so slightly.
For the first time since this game began, you feel like you’re standing at a line. One you hadn’t even realized existed until now. And you have no idea what happens if you cross it.
“…I’d just find someone else to be my office enemy,” you say finally, forcing a casual shrug.
Jeongin clicks his tongue. “Ouch.” But there’s no real offense in his voice, just that same easy amusement, the kind that always makes it hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking.
Then, before you can react, he lifts the coffee cup and presses it into your hands.
Your fingers wrap around the warm ceramic instinctively, blinking up at him in confusion. “What—”
“You can have this one.” He grins. “Consider it a peace offering.”
You narrow your eyes. “You’re plotting something.”
“Maybe.” He winks. “But you’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?”
And with that, he turns and strolls out of the break room, leaving you standing there, holding the coffee he’d stolen for himself.
Your so-called enemy just let you win. And you don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he did it, or the fact that you kind of liked it.