call me, maybe; johnny seo ft. yuta & jaehyun
summary: “i’m scared to walk home alone in the dark and every one of my contacts are either busy or not answering so my desperate ass googled up call boy numbers and you answered but I have to explain to you that I don’t want sex I just want to talk to somebody!”
pairing: johnny x reader
genre: office! au, call boy! au, fluff
You walked through the halls of the office, papers in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee in another. You sent warm smiles to the few amount of people who passed by you, who nodded in return. Arriving in front of a door with the name “Seo Youngho” engraved on a plaque, you set the files down and knocked.
“Come in,” a muffled voice sounded from inside. You opened the door and peeked inside, finding your boss hunched over his desk, focused on doing paperwork. His circular specs were almost falling off his nose, but he made no move to push it back up.
“The papers you asked photocopied for the meeting tomorrow morning and your coffee, sir,” you said, not too loud in fear of disturbing his focus. He waved a hand to his desk dismissively.
Stepping outside once more to grab the files you had put down, you used your back to push open the door and readjusted the heavy load to ease the discomfort on both your forearm and hip. Walking forward, you tentatively set down his coffee on his desk and the files beside his paperwork.
“Thank you, (Y/N).”
You hummed, waiting a little until he finished signing something. Noticing you were still there, he looked up at you from under his glasses in question.
“Did you need something?”
“Um, with all due respect, sir,” you fiddled with the ends of your shirt nervously, “It’s getting quite late and I still have chores to do at home...”
You trailed off. He got the message, eyes trailing to the clock on the wall.
“Ah,” he rubbed the back of his nape in slight embarrassment, “You’re free to go, then.”
Nodding, you turned around and exited his office with a small “Have a nice day, sir.” You walked down the now nearly empty hall, spotting a few cubicles still alive with the sound of crunching keyboards and light filtering under office doors. Shaking your head, you continued down the hall and grabbed your bags, shrugging on your bomber jacket over your white blouse and pink skirt. You fished your phone out of your pocket, clicking the home button and frowning at the time. 9:42 PM.
You passed by the front desk, the receptionist already snoring softly. Chuckling softly to yourself, you walked out through the spinning doors and stepped onto the streets outside. The night wind was chilly, the moon covered by the cloudy sky. Suppressing a shiver, you unlocked your phone and called the number of your best friend.
“I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is currently out of reach. Please try again lat-“ you ended the call before the it could finish. Furrowing your brows, you scrolled down your contacts and tried calling your brother instead. It rang thrice before the automated voice greeted you once more. You let out a frustrated sigh.
You spent a good fifteen minutes in front of the office, dialing different numbers of your friends and either receiving no answer or quick, hushed explanations that they were busy and hanging up before you could even get a word in. Your parents were no option, either—they were abroad enjoying the vacation of their lives. It was expensive, and plus, you didn’t want to disturb them. Running a hand through your hair distractedly, you bit your lip and considered your choices.
Your house was just barely within walking distance, but it would still take you a good amount of time. Before you started working at the office, you were convinced that you could walk or take a bus home, but you certainly weren’t expecting to come home at this ungodly hour. Unfortunately, the nearest station that entertained 24-hour buses was a four-mile walk. You clicked your tongue in annoyance at your misfortune.
It wasn’t that you were scared of the dark or anything, but walking home alone at night wasn’t exactly the safest thing for a woman. You tightened your jacket around yourself, remembering the stories your mother had told you about the dangers of the streets after the sun had set. They were just stories until one of the girls at your campus was stalked and mugged after walking home at night alone. That was when you made it a habit to call someone every time you were doing so – they may not be there with you, but their voices calmed your nerves. Plus, you read online that if you were being stalked, you could inform the person at the other end of your whereabouts and situation updates. It was a foolproof plan; if only people had the time for it.
An idea struck your head. Not a good one, but it was an idea nonetheless. You took a few minutes to contemplate it, but then realized the longer you took the time to think, the darker and more dangerous it was going to be for you.
“I’m really out of my mind,” you groaned, chiding yourself mentally. But you don’t get anywhere being sane, right? A small voice responded in your head. You sighed. She had a point.
Mind made up, you opened your browser anyways and turned on incognito mode. You didn’t want anyone snooping through your history seeing what you were going to do today. Cheeks blushing, you searched up ‘call boy numbers’. Within seconds, an array of results popped up. Ignoring their provocative titles, your fingers tapped the first website that showed up on your screen. The red tint of your cheeks deepened as the webpage loaded; the titles and advertisements were far too vulgar for your taste. Your eyes averted over the images, wisely choosing to pretend that they did not exist.
You scrolled down to find a list of names and individual phone numbers. You read over them, finding one name that snagged your eye. Johnny, it read. The name sounded American—maybe calling a foreigner would bring less shame to your family. Bonus points if he didn’t understand a lick of what you were saying.
With a deep inhale, you clicked on the green call button. Your screen darkened and you tentatively brought it up to your ear. After a couple of seconds of ringing, it stopped. Your heart felt like it was going to leap out of its chest —a quick glance at the screen showed that you were connected.
“H-Hello?” You started hesitantly, “Johnny-ssi?”
“That’s me,” a deep voice responded, and you felt a shiver run down your spine, “What would you like me to do, babygirl? Do you like it when I call you that?”
Your cheeks were on fire, “A-Actually, I was wondering if you could just stay on the line instead of coming over? I’ll still pay your company, of course, just without the sex part?”
Your voice had dropped to a whisper, and you looked around to see if anyone was watching you. No one was in sight, fortunately. You heard a chuckle from the other end.
“If that’s what you want, babygirl. You don’t want daddy to see you pleasuring yourself, do you?” There was a sharp intake of breath from the phone, “You’re such a bad girl. Should daddy punish you?”
At this point, you were as red as a beet, “I don’t—oh my god, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this—Johnny-ssi, can we talk normally? Please?”
There was silence for a few moments. Afraid that you pissed him off, you were about to launch into an apologetic spiel, but he beat you to it.
“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” His tone was casual now, almost relaxed. You were taken aback at the sudden change and difference in his voice, but you recomposed yourself.
“It’s just that, um,” you started, “I’ve just finished work at this hour and I’m terrified at walking home alone, but all of my friends were either too busy or didn’t pick up so in my desperation I had the stupidest idea to, I don’t know, google up call boy numbers and call one—Johnny-ssi, are you there?”
You pulled your phone away and stared at the screen for a quick second, showing that you were still connected.
“Yeah, I’m still here. Continue,” he prompted. You sighed softly.
“So will you talk to me while I walk back home? Just for peace of mind, you know?” You asked, cringing at yourself as you imagined all the possible ways he could reject you, “Plus, someone needs to know if I got murdered or not.”
It was silent for a few seconds. Just after you thought he hung up on you, you heard, “Are you serious?”
“Yes!” You were almost reaching the point of begging, “Please! It’s just until I get home, I promise. If you don’t want to hear from me ever again I’ll never even look at your number. At least it makes for a good story to tell, right? Will you do it?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” he cleared his throat, “Is it a long walk to your house?”
“No, it usually takes fifteen to twenty minutes,” you bit your lip hesitantly, “So, Johnny-ssi—it’s okay if I call you that, right? Do you have another name that you prefer to be called with?”
“No, no, Johnny’s fine,” he chuckled.
“Well, um, Johnny-ssi, what are your hobbies and interests?”
With that, you began your walk home. You didn’t know if it was the call boy charms or pure charisma, but conversation was light and easy between you two. He even made you laugh a couple of times, especially with his corny jokes.
“Enough with embarrassing me,” you could hear his smile from the other end of the line, “What about you? I’ve never had a client quite as interesting as you with their requests.”
“What is this, twenty questions?” You laughed lightly, but then mulled it over, “On second thought, that’s actually not that bad of an idea. Should we play it?”
“If you want to. I’ll go first, then; ever had a pet?”
“Sadly, no,” you sighed, “I’ve always wanted one but my mom’s allergic to fur. I had a goldfish once as a kid, though; Concrete didn’t last very long.”
“You named your goldfish Concrete?” You heard his flabbergasted tone and let out a small laugh.
“I wasn’t very creative as a kid,” another bout of laughter pealed out of your lips, “How about you?”
You heard his chuckle from the other end of the line, “That’s something we have in common. I had a dog named Flower before I moved away.”
You let out another giggle before you could stop yourself, “Good to know I’m not alone in this world, then. Speaking of pets, do you happen to have any pet peeves, Johnny-ssi?”
Surprisingly, Johnny and you had more in common than you thought. The both of you talked about everything there was to talk about. Your opinions that contrasted, though, made for good conversation topics—the both of you spent a good chunk of your walk debating whether or not water was wet.
By the time you turned the corner to your street, you found yourself more than a little disappointed. You had to admit, there were times that you found yourself walking slower than usual just to prolong the conversation you had with him. The house that before seemed far away was just a few strides away now.
“Hey, Johnny-ssi? I’ve arrived in front of my house,” you rummaged your bag for your keys, and once you found them, held them tightly in your grip before inserting them to the door, “Thanks for accompanying me all the way back. Well, on the other side of the line, anyway. I really appreciate you not hanging up the moment I told you this, um, honestly less-than-bright idea. As promised, I wouldn’t bother you again, right?”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied. You felt your stomach drop slightly. A second of silence passed before he spoke up again, “For the record, I wouldn’t mind in the slightest if you wanted to bother me again. You know my number, don’t you?”
“I—Yes, I do?” It came out more as a question than an answer. You were surprised, to say the least. He chuckled.
“Well, it’s getting late—you should get some sleep. Make sure to sleep well.”
Still flustered, you managed a flimsy reply, “G-Good night, Johnny-ssi.”
“Good night to you, too. Dream of me, will you?”
You heard him laugh before you hung up on the call, face lighting up like a christmas tree. Call boy charms indeed.
-
You sighed, bringing the cup of steaming coffee to your lips as you leaned on the countertop of the pantry. You relished the feeling of the warmth flowing from your mouth to your throat, warming up your stomach. The cold air nipped at your bare arms, biting all the way to your bones. Not only was it freezing, the office was practically abandoned.
“Oh? (Y/N), you aren’t going home yet?” Nakamoto Yuta walked in, blazer off and only clad in black slacks and a white dress shirt. His usually neat hair seemed messy, almost like he had run his hands in it multiple times. You couldn’t blame him, though—working in this particular company could be stressful at times.
“Nah,” you shrugged, looking at the clock carefully positioned on the wall from under your lashes. You brought the cup of coffee down, “Youngho-ssi likes to work late.”
“It’s almost eleven, though. Want me to walk you home?” He winked before walking over to make his own cup of coffee. You simply let out a small snort, which he chuckled at.
Yuta, although stationed at one of the higher-ranking positions in the office, had a reputation of flirting with the new interns. You had been here long enough to be immune to it.
“Seriously, though,” he frowned, but the twinkle didn’t disappear from his eye, “It’s really late. Are you sure you’ll be fine? Just because Youngho works late doesn’t mean you should, too.”
“S’alright—It probably gets lonely for him. And you practically live on the other side of the city.”
“You’re right,” he chuckled, walking back to the door and putting a hand on your shoulder, “Don’t hesitate to knock on my office if you need me.”
With another wink, he breezed out of the pantry. You brought the coffee cup once again to your lips and tilted it upwards, only to find that it was already empty. You let out an irked sound and pushed yourself off the counter, throwing the paper cup to the trash can before walking to the coffee machine to make another cup for your boss.
You swiped the Americano from the coffee machine, pouring half a packet of creamer into it and quarter a packet of sugar, just how he liked it. Mindlessly, you started to hum to I’m Yours by Jason Mraz. It had been stuck in your head all day—your brother had been having his own concert during his hour-long showers and you just so happened to have overheard him singing the song. You grabbed a spoon and started to stir the cup of coffee, eyes glancing at the clock on the wall. To be fair, it was a good hour or two later than your usual late hours.
You took the spoon out and left it on the sink, turning around only to be faced with a broad chest. You let out a little scream of shock, nearly dropping the mug. Your boss’s face stared down at you, eyebrows up in question at your panicked attitude. His hair was disheveled and tie undone, giving him an unkempt look uncharacteristic of him.
“You should go home, (Y/N). It’s really late.” He said, and you took a moment to calm yourself before nodding.
“Yes, yes, I—right,” you held out the cup of coffee to him, “Your coffee, sir. Have a nice day—night. Remaining time left of the day.”
You cleared your throat awkwardly. He took it from your hands, and you diverted your eyes to the floor before slinking beside his frame to exit the pantry. That was embarrassing.
“Make sure to get home safely, (Y/N)!” You heard him call out as you walked away.
You made sure to mutter a “Thank you!” before grabbing your bag and shrugging on your jacket. Before the day could get any later, you made your way out of the building into the cold night. The sound of your phone ringing the other side of the line was a welcome buzz to your ears. It’s been a month or two since you started regularly calling Johnny, and the time you spent walking back to your house has, admittedly, become the favourite part of your otherwise routine day.
“Hello?”
“Hey. I was starting to wonder when you’d call,” came the familiar voice. You smiled, heart lightening already. “You’re going home a bit later than usual, don’t you think? They better be paying you overtime.”
“It’s fine—well, kinda,” you snorted softly, “It is a bit closer to midnight. S’alright, though. How’s your day been?”
“Pretty uneventful. You have anything going on for you?”
“You wanna hear all the boring stuff?”
“Of course. I love listening to you talk,” he purred. You sputtered, cheeks flaming up as he laughed. “Are you blushing yet?”
“Oh, shut up, you,” you walked leisurely under the street lamps, “I started off the day kind of late. Got to the office, had a couple of meetings, worked on this one partnership proposal my boss is having a hard time approving. Ah, I don’t know. I’m definitely going to work on it again once I get home. What else? The weather’s getting colder, and it’s not helping that the office heaters are either broken or constantly on low heat. I’m not very good with the cold, if you can’t tell. My brother has been obsessed with I’m Yours by Jason Mraz and I think it’s infecting me, too. I’ve been trying to get it out of my head by humming but it’s just not working. And I think I’m rambling again. Sorry about that. Johnny?”
There was silence, then a rustling sound. “Hello?”
“Oh. Sorry. You… got cut off for a bit there,” he cleared his throat, voice underlined with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “By I’m Yours, you mean the one that goes…”
You listened to him sing, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, that’s the one. You never told me you sang, Johnny.”
“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” you rolled your eyes. “But I’m curious about your office life.”
“I’ll tell you about it if you do that parrot impersonation one more time.”
“You’re gonna record it!”
“Only for research purposes!”
-
“Are you done with the partnership files, Jaehyun-ssi?”
“Hmm?” Your coworker looked up from packing his documents to his briefcase, blanking out for a split second before his mind returned to his head. “Oh! The papers! One second—it’s here somewhere…”
He looked around his desk, flipping through some piles of paper and upturning others. He eventually grasped a thick bundle held together by a binder clip at the bottom of his messes, pulling them out and handing them to you.
“Thanks. Make sure you get home safely, Jaehyun-ssi.” You knocked twice on his cubicle wall, turning around with a wave.
You heard him call out “You too!” as you walked down the quiet hallway, making your way to your desk. Lately, you’ve found the office more bearable—heaters all around the floor had been turned up, and someone had even put in a maintenance request for the broken ones. A small smile turned up on your lips at that.
You settled down on your desk, ready to finish up on a report. Not even five minutes had passed before someone broke your concentration.
“Knock-knock,” you let out a small yelp, turning your head to the side to see your boss leaning against the wall beside your desk, eyes glimmering with an emotion you couldn’t decipher. His tie was loose, strands of hair escaping his usual neat hairstyle. “Earth to (Y/N).”
You blushed, embarrassed, “R-Right! What is it, sir?”
“There’s not much to do tomorrow,” he licked his lips, shoving a hand in his pant pocket, “You should wrap up and get back.”
A glance at the clock instantly made you understand why he was worried. “Right. Okay. Thank you. Are you sure you can...”
“I’m sure. Make sure you get home safely, (Y/N). And stay warm,” his eyes followed you as you shoved your laptop into your bag, grabbed your phone before standing up, “Do you need a ride?”
“I’m fine! It’s walking distance, but thank you,” you brushed yourself off and handed him the partnership files, “They’re from Jaehyun-ssi. Make sure you get home safely too, sir. Good night.”
He waved goodbye to you, and you made your way to the lobby. It took a while for your cheeks to regain their original color. Although you had been working under Seo Youngho for quite a while, you didn’t fail to notice how attentive he was starting to be. Of course, how incredibly attractive he was didn’t escape your radar, either. As his secretary, though, it was absolutely important for you to keep up your professionalism—even if he was really hot.
You rummaged through your bag to find your jacket, only to realize you had completely forgotten it by your coat hanger. Drat. You cursed yourself for your own stupidity. Oh well.
The moment you took a step outside, the wind instantly nipped at your exposed arms. You withheld a shiver, looking at the sky. It wasn’t that late yet, and the street lamps illuminated the sidewalk quite brightly. Just for tonight, you were going to walk alone.
Despite having a lot of fun with Johnny, you didn’t want to impose on his work too much. Plus, he had been acting a little oddly as of late. It wouldn’t kill you to be a bit more independent for a couple of nights. You huffed, gripping your phone tightly in your hands as you walked down the streets.
Not a lot of people were out and about, and you could spot a couple a ways up ahead and a guy walking on the opposite side of the street. It calmed your heart a little, at least. It was quiet for a while, the wind biting your arms and swaying the trees. As you walked through a reflective store display, though, you spotted somebody walking a bit behind you.
Wait, wasn’t that the guy who was walking in the opposite direction before? Your brows furrowed. No. He probably went the wrong direction. It’s alright. He’s just trying to get home, like me.
Despite you trying to convince yourself, your heart started to beat a bit faster. You walked a bit faster, but also heard his footsteps speed up to match your pace. The couple who had walked in front of you had long disappeared. You gripped your phone tighter.
Before turning the corner, you stopped. Your heartbeat was in your ears, and you made a show to open your phone and open google maps before looking up at the street sign. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man stop and stare at you. After a solid three minutes and no sign of him moving, you started to feel your blood rush and curses fly through your head. He was wearing a hoodie and a cap, swaying slightly in the wind—obviously intoxicated. You swore under your breath, shaky fingers opening your contacts as you took a step forward. He did the same.
You scrolled wildly for Johnny, clicking the call button at once and putting it to your ear as you speed walked. Your breathing was labored, mind already in overdrive.
Pick up, pick up, pick up! You begged. Please!
“Hello?”
“Johnny!” You breathed out, voice small, “Please call somebody—Gwangmyeong sam-dong, hurry!”
“Are you okay? Are you safe? What’s happening?”
“Please!”
“Stay on the line with me—do not end the call. That is an order. What’s happening?”
“There’s someone following me. He’s—he’s right behind me. I can’t talk too loud. Please. I’m going to make a run for it.”
You heard crackling sounds on the other side, “Is your house far?”
“A bit more. I have to—” you gulped, “I have to unlock the door with the keys.”
“Wait—”
You heard the footsteps behind you gaining speed. You braved a look, and the man smiled eerily at you, causing you to walk faster and faster until you were sprinting.
“Johnny!” You cried out, but you felt a hand grab your arm and pull you back roughly. Their nails were caked and dirty, hand grimy from filth. You screamed, dropping your phone.
Before you could look up to see their face, something forcefully ripped him away. His nails scratched your arm, but you could barely register the pain. You heard a loud crack and a thud, and you shut your eyes in hopes that everything would just go away.
When you opened your eyes, you saw the stalker sprinting away back in the direction you came from and the back of a man clad in a black blazer and pants. He was panting heavily, hair messy. His figure was familiar, and it wasn’t until he turned to you did you realize who he was.
“(Y/N)!” Before you could even register what was happening, he was already embracing you, pulling back to inspect you and make sure you didn’t have any injuries. “Are you alright? What did he do to you?”
“Youngho-ssi?”
“Your arm—you’re bleeding, (Y/N), let’s—”
You drop wordlessly, your arm still linked with his. Your breathing was still heavy, the thump-thump of your heart and blood rushing loud in your ears. Out of a sudden, you felt a heavy weight on your back and shoulders, heat engulfing you. You look up to see your boss squatting in front of you, only wearing his pants and crinkled button-up.
“I thought I told you to stay warm,” he chided, adjusting his blazer over your shoulders to make sure it blocked out the wind. He placed something on your hand, and you looked down to see it was your phone—albeit with a crack on it. “You should probably end that call.”
The line was still connected to Johnny, and you stared at it for a moment before bringing it up to your ears.
“J-Johnny?”
“Here,” your head snapped up to see your boss with his phone beside his ear, voice both audible in front of you and through the phone speaker. “(Y/N)?”
You drop your phone once more, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks. Youngho’s face twists into a mix of surprise and panic, clearly at a loss of what to do.
“Oh my god—(Y/N), why are you crying? Please stop crying. I didn’t mean to—that guy is gone. Oh no, please stop crying.”
He brings you up to engulf you in a hug once more, rocking you slightly. You wrap your arms around him, tears wetting his shirt.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Johnny, Youngho-ssi, whoever you are,” you wail, “I can’t believe you’re my hot boss. Why are you my hot boss? You could have been literally anyone else, and I’m so embarrassed and it’s all your fault. I’m sorry—I just really, really like you and—oh my god, please let the ground swallow me up whole.”
“Yes! Yes, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. Please stop crying, (Y/N). I’m also really glad you think I’m hot, and I really, really like you too, but—oh no, I made it worse. I’ll do anything, I promise. I’ll walk you home every day after work, and I won’t ask you to make me coffee anymore, I’ve even quit my side job ever since you started calling me. Please feel better.”
“You quit your side job?”
“That’s not the point here, (Y/N). Really,” he stared you down, eyes softening, “I promised myself I wouldn’t make you cry. I’ll do anything to make up for it, okay?”
“Even the parrot impersonation?” You manage between sniffles, already letting out a small laugh as you pull back to wipe your cheeks.
He grabbed your hands, cupping your face and wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “Even the parrot impersonation.”
He leant down and gave you a chaste kiss, pulling back so your foreheads and noses were touching. He kissed your tear marks away, pulling you into another embrace once he was finished.
“Please kiss me a bit more. Then we’ll call it even.”
“Fair enough,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss you once more.
