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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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"What do you think of me?" | yjh [ch3]

Pairing: YJH x Reader

Genre: best friend’s brother to lovers (or something), FLUFF, romcom, office setting, yjh and his sister are nepo babies

Summary (this chapter basically goes like this): you: just trying to survive internship hell jeonghan: what if i grabbed ur wrist and whispered in ur ear while drunk also jeonghan: accidentally falls on you and passes out while BTS plays in the background also also jeonghan: “what do you think of me?” update: he stole the can you drank on and now you think he’s wearing your same, exact perfume. chat, is this normal behavior?

A/N: FINALLY DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER AHHH. I was planning on publishing this and ch4, but I figured you guys would want to read this first cause it's been 3 days (?) now 😭😭

Teaser | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 3

By 3:17 PM, you had already run out of your post-its, remaining patience, and reasons to live. Since last week, your seniors have been dumping all their work onto the interns. Your group chat, named “Corporate Work Trauma,” had more than 99 unread messages, either from interns begging the other to help them complete their work or wishing that your seniors would magically get fired and be replaced by more responsible people.

Just as you were about to complete your final assignment for today, you hear the sound of that stupid humming again.

“Intern! I’ll be needing your help with some of the materials for tomorrow.” Manager Kang, from a completely different department, walked over with urgent footsteps and dropped a stack of documents on your desk.

You just stared at it blankly. Manager Kang then cleared his throat, as if to say, “Oh, don’t worry. That will only take you 5 minutes.”

“Just flag me what’s urgent on e-mail, and I’ll get to it as soon as possible,” you looked up with the smiliest and politest face you’ve ever worn, but anyone who knew you would know that you were on the verge of either killing Manager Kang or breaking down.

“Great attitude,” he said, walking away.

“What an ass,” you muttered under your breath. You couldn’t hold it in, but you didn’t want to get fired either.

It was petty, yeah, but so was this day. And the day before that. And the day before yesterday.

From his office, Jeonghan looked up from his monitor. He looked around the room, and all the lights were turned off except for the intern area.

This usually happens every time the company hires new interns. A “rite of passage,” they called it. A hazing, he’d say. Usually, those seniors would get a serious talking to by the rest of the management, but this was just for formality since, well, those same people also do the same thing.

Jeonghan scrunched his nose just at the thought of how many interns quit last year. He did try to help them, albeit only those in his department. He only heard about those assholes from those adjacent departments that dumped tasks onto his interns and made them do their work when two of them quit. From then on, he banned other departments from casually coming in and out of his department. But I guess this happened again, since the interns right now have been staying late in the office for three days straight.

He finally stood up and went out of his office to tell the interns to go home for the night and to report to him about who was making them work and what they were assigned to do.

“Hey.”

You blinked up from your monitor, staring. Joenghan’s voice was low and effortless, like it was just another thought passing through the room.

The rest of the interns did the same and asked him if there was anything he needed. He asked them to leave for the night and to report to him tomorrow

The rest of the interns looked up like they’d just been told the war was over.

“Oh my god. Finally,” one of them breathed out, already half-standing.

“Bro, I’m gonna write a 10-page essay about the hell these people put me through,” another muttered, cracking their knuckles with a vengeance.

“Team Leader Yoon, you’re the realest one here,” someone said, patting their bag and walking out like it was the end of a prison sentence.

One of them turned back to you. “You coming?”

You glanced at your monitor, finger still hovering over the trackpad. “Yeah. Just have to finish this last page,” you said with a small smile.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Won’t take long.”

With a round of exhausted goodbyes and a collective sigh that echoed through the empty office, the rest of them finally filtered out.

When the last of the other interns finally leaves the office, you look up at your monitor. It was just one last page, and you were done. Might as well finish this and not let your hard work go down the drain before the bloody battle that breaks out tomorrow.

“You free for a second?” Jeonghan, who, unbeknownst to you, has been staring at you since he dismissed you.

“Hmm? Me?” you asked, surprised. That was a dumb way to respond, since you were the only one there (other than him). But, you know, you’re tired, he’s tired. There’s something abysmal, yet normal, about your reaction.

“No, the ficus. Yes, you. You’re the only one here.”

You got up, slowly, wary. “Okay…”

Jeonghan walks to his office, and you follow him. Right now, you’re not sure about what’s happening. He just dismissed you a while ago, right? You didn’t just dream that, right?

He opened his office door for you, and you stepped in. You’re hit with the scent again, but this time, it's more subtle.

It was late in the evening, and you’re too tired. The ambience of it all was so relaxing, you’re sure you would sleep here right now, if it weren’t for the subconscious part of your body telling you to sleep in your own bed.

“Sit,” Jeonghan said, his eyes pointing towards the couch.

You, oddly enough, half-expected a lecture on HR violations or intern responsibilities. More work. Maybe a mild scolding delivered in that stupidly smooth voice of his.

As you went to plop on the couch, he opened the drawer under his desk. From your view, you could see the shine of aluminium. A canned herbal tea and a familiar chocolate almond bar. Weird combo? Sure. But it was your go-to back in college, herbal tea and almond chocolate during all-nighters.

Jeonghan walked over to you, his shadow looming over your body. He held them out like a peace offering.

You just looked at what’s in his hands. “You... called me in for this?”

As you were about to take them, he pulled back his hand and opened the can first before placing both products on the glass coffee table in front of you. You roll your eyes.

He sat on the couch opposite you and leaned back, his hands going behind the back of his head. Casual. Composed. Eyes on you like he was studying your expression for microreactions. At first, you were hesitant. Your eyebrows furrowed, making that expression you had every time you’re curious about something. He knows what you were thinking about. How did he know about what you wanted, and why did he have them ready at his office? But then, you finally start drinking the tea.

Your eyes, already half-lidded, began to soften further. Before taking another sip, you went ahead to dig into the chocolate bar. Oh, the mood right now was too cozy. The lavender atmosphere, the soft wool couch swallowing you whole, and you finally having your first meal in almost seven hours, no less, from the man in front of you. God, you just wanted to stay there forever.

“You looked like you were ready to go to the morgue,” he said. “Figured you’d need something to swallow before you head home.”

You chewed slowly, staring at him as your brain finally caught up with what was happening. “Woahhh... Team Leader Yoon Jeonghan,” you drawled, voice thick with playful suspicion. “How did you know I was craving this exact combo? Have you been stalking me?”

Jeonghan quirked a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said lazily. “If I were stalking you, I’d probably know you secretly take screenshots of food from that mukbang channel at midnight.”

You choked slightly on your tea, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“‘Saved Posts,” he said, smug. “Public account. Rookie mistake, seriously. Who taught you internet safety?”

You gasped, half-laughing, half-mortified. “You actually went through my saved posts?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t have to. Your notifications were on during that one meeting, and your screen lit up with your username. Curiosity got the better of me.”

You paused, your hand still gripping the chocolate bar. Your cheeks flushed, just slightly, the faintest pink blooming as his words sank in.

You clutched your forehead dramatically. “Unbelievable. I’m never showing my phone in public again.”

Jeonghan leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, gaze steady. “You interns have been running yourselves into the ground lately. Figured someone should give a damn.”

You looked at him, and for a second, you couldn’t say anything. The teasing was there, sure, but underneath it was... sincere.

You rolled your eyes, if only to hide how warm you felt. “You could’ve just sent an email like a normal person.”

He scoffed. “And miss the chance to see your tragic little face in person?”

“Wow. Thanks,” you said flatly, trying not to smile.

Jeonghan waited a full five seconds before glancing back at the door. Then, slowly, he sat back into his chair.

His gaze dropped to the half-crushed can on the table, the one you'd sipped from earlier. Faint, but still visible: a perfect smudge of maroon left on the aluminium rim. It wasn’t just a mark. It was the same shade you'd been wearing all night. The same shade you’d been wearing since you started working here. Rich. Creamy. Almost too bold for you.

His fingers reached for it. Brushed the edge.

The pigment clung to his skin. He turned his hand over, staring at the stain against the pad of his index finger. A color too soft to be dangerous, but too dark to be innocent.

He lifted his fingers to his mouth.

A pause.

Then, he touched his lips to them.

The warmth wasn’t the same. But it mimicked what could’ve been yours.

He exhaled through his nose, a quiet, bitter laugh.

He didn’t even like herbal tea and almond chocolate.

The hum of the vending machine was the only sound filling the small break room. You sat slouched on the bench, head resting against the cold wall, eyes closed. The coffee in your hands had gone lukewarm. Your shoes were kicked off, legs tucked beneath you like you were claiming this sad little corner as your territory.

Today, you finally finished all the projects you were assigned. Your fellow interns finally stopped cursing and hexing your seniors, and you finally have time to relax. Moreover, those same seniors got chewed out by Team Leader Yoon. “My final warning,” you remember how his voice was calm and calculating, making everything he said sound like a death threat instead of a “I’ll-send-you-to-HR” threat.

“You look like you got hit by a truck,” a familiar voice piped up.

You cracked one eye open to find your best friend, Jeonghan’s younger sister, leaning against the doorframe, sipping from her iced latte like she hadn’t just insulted you.

“Truck, bus, and a management-level bullet train,” you deadpanned, sighing dramatically as you took another sip of your coffee. “The seniors? Demonic. One of them made me sort three years of archived campaign decks. My soul left my body halfway through 2023.”

She winced. “Okay, yeah. That’s cruel and unusual. Even I don’t like those archives, and I barely do anything.”

You snorted.

She sauntered over and sat beside you, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve been looking real burnt-out lately. You okay?”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. Just new intern stuff. Paying my dues. Blood, sweat, tears, and barely-scheduled bathroom breaks. Besides, your lovely brother finally saved us.”

“Ew, don’t call him that.” She grimaced. “You need a break. Like, real one.”

You looked at her suspiciously. “Why do you sound like you’re about to propose something... stupid? Insane? What’s the right word….”

She smirked. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all… maybe I am.”

You squinted. “Don’t say team-building workshop. I’ll cry.”

“Worse.” Her grin widened. “Karaoke. Tonight.”

You groaned. “Nooo. My legs feel like overcooked noodles. I can’t stand, let alone scream-sing IU.”

“But it’s to celebrate! You finally survived intern hell. That deserves a round of somaek.”

You blinked. “Can’t we just do that without involving the whole department?”

“Nope. Everyone’s coming--well, everyone that matters. Especially you interns. And…” She paused for a beat, her voice dropping just slightly into a mischievous tone. “Oppa might come too.”

“No, he won’t. No one will. Why? Because this won’t happen.”

“Come on~” She flipped her hair dramatically. “I might go tell him it’s a little celebratory thing.”

You stared at her. “You do know that he’s busy, right?”

She beamed. “Yeah, but he would make time. Maybe. As long as you’re there. Looking cute. And tired. And vulnerable.”

You almost choked on your coffee. “You’re evil.”

She beamed. “You love me.”

Jeonghan didn’t look up from his laptop when the door opened. “If this is about the budget sheet, tell them to stop using Comic Sans–”

“It’s not,” his sister sang-songed, plopping onto the guest chair across from his desk. “It’s about plans.”

“Sounds exhausting already.”

She leaned in, elbows on his desk. “Did you know we’re doing karaoke tonight?”

He raised a brow. “No.”

“Well, we are.”

“Sounds loud.”

“Mm-hmm.” She stretched the silence, letting it hang before she dropped the bait. “Guess who’s coming?”

His fingers paused mid-typing. “...”

“Yep. Poor girl’s been run ragged. You should’ve seen her, she looked like she was about to merge with the coffee machine. Thought it’d be nice for her to unwind.”

He didn’t reply right away, gaze still fixed on the screen, though nothing was being typed now.

His sister grinned. “Anyway. I told her you might come.”

This time, he looked at her.

“Just a heads up,” she added sweetly, before slipping out of the office.

Behind her, Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, his forearm rising to cover his eyes, as he slowly, very slowly smirked to himself. He let out a low chuckle, like he was plotting some evil Doofenshmirtz-level plan.

“This crazy bastard…” his sister just walked away as quickly as she could.

You were nestled in the corner of the private room, surrounded by your coworkers who were thriving in their tipsy chaos. The lights bounced off the walls, the mic was being tossed around like a volleyball, and someone was currently screaming their way through an old 2 PM hit.

You were smiling, even laughing occasionally, but your body still felt tired. Drained.

This probably wasn’t a good idea, but you were having fun. I guess you would have to prioritize your bodily needs tomorrow. The past few days had chewed you up and spit you out with a polite, overworked bow.

The door opened, and Jeonghan stepped in. Some of your coworkers did not expect him to come here, while the rest were too drunk to even get up from their seats. He was wearing a button-down shirt (too few buttons done up, you note) and sleeves rolled up like he just walked off a music video set.

You turned to your friend, who was screaming her lungs off. She made eye contact with you and winked. Yeah, no. This was her doing.

You could see his eyes scanning the room until they stopped. At you.

A faint smile ghosted across his lips. And then he walked in fully, sliding into an open seat at the end of the room, not next to you, but close enough to watch.

He didn’t even greet you directly.

You sipped your drink.

He sipped his.

But you could feel him there.

You had stepped out of the room to cool off. It was too warm. Too loud. Too much. It was like your skin couldn’t hold everything in anymore.

You were just beginning to breathe when you felt him.

Jeonghan leaned against the wall beside you like he belonged there. Like the hallway had been waiting for him.

You turned to see him, eyes closed, head tilted, cheek pressed lazily to his shoulder. His hair, beautifully disheveled, fanned out behind him, catching the soft light like silk. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, the few buttons still undone, skin glowing pale beneath the low light. His hair?

You couldn’t tell if he was drunk or just reckless tonight. But his presence was magnetic, pulling everything in, including you.

“Team Leader Yoon… are you alright?” Your voice came out quiet, unsure, but your body already moved. You stepped in, closer, protective by habit and helplessness.

He didn’t answer at first. Just hummed low. His head dipped in a slow, deliberate motion.

“...Jeonghan?”

You watched the fall of his bangs. The way his lashes brushed the flush of his cheeks. His lips– plump, a little red, and parted just enough to tempt every reckless impulse in your brain.

Your hand lifted. You didn’t mean to. But it did. Hovering near his mouth.

You wondered:

Were they still wet from all the drinks? Or dry from the hallway air?

You didn’t find out.

Then, heat. Fingers wrapped around your wrist. Slow, firm.

You gasped.

He opened one eye, heavy-lidded, a little too knowing. Then, slowly, like he had all the time in the world, Jeonghan pulled you toward him. Not hard, instead, it was gentle, devastating. Until your bodies nearly touched.

You could feel it.

The heat. The scent.

Sandalwood. Lavender. And something unmistakably his.

And then, with the barest smirk at the corner of his lips, his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

Your breath hitched.

“Same color,” he murmured, voice low. “Your lips… the other night.”

You forgot how to blink.

His thumb lingered a second longer before sliding away, his grip still secure around your wrist. But now, it was his fingers that trailed gently along the skin there, mapping every inch like it was a confession.

And then,

he moved again.

You didn’t even register it until his fingers brushed the slope of your neck. Just enough to make your breath hitch and your spine freeze.

Then he found the necklace you wore.

His fingers traced the delicate chain along your neck, unbearably slow, like he already knew what it was doing to you. You swallowed, breath catching when he reached the pendant resting above your collarbone. It was heart-shaped. Of course it was. His thumb brushed over it once, twice, as if he was testing the rhythm beneath it.

You were certain. Utterly, humiliatingly certain that he could feel your heartbeat rising against the cage of your ribs like it wanted to leap into his palm.

He held onto it.

Lifted it slightly. As if weighing something.

“Still wearing this?” he said, almost like he was asking himself.

Then, he let it go gently. The charm dropped against your skin with a soft clink.

You didn’t get to exhale.

Because in the next second, his hand slid to the back of your neck. His fingers threading through your hair, palm warm and solid.

He pulled you closer.

Not rough. Not rushed.

Intentional.

Your body followed, helpless.

He leaned in. Past your cheek. Past your jaw.

And just as your breath trembled out, his lips brushed the side of your neck, and he whispered: “What do you think of me?”

Your knees nearly gave out.

You could feel every syllable burn against your skin. Every letter was a sin.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t look at him.

Because he was right there. So close. And you knew, if you turned your head, your lips would meet.

But then–

The door behind you rattled.

Voices. Laughter. The sound of someone scream-singing off-key to “Autumn Leaves” by BTS. The hallway light flickered briefly from the opened door.

Your blood turned cold. Your stomach dropped.

He kept his hand at your nape. Still holding. Still there.

Your pulse thundered. His breath ghosted your jaw.

He looked amused. Barely. Like this was all some twisted game, and only he knew the rules.

“Let go,” you whispered, though you didn’t even sound like you meant it.

He didn’t.

He just smiled against your skin.

THUD.

“Oh God!”

Yoon Jeonghan. Your Team Leader. Your best friend’s brother.

And now? Collapsed at your feet. Dragging you down with him.

“Okay, okay, I got it, you’re very strong–”

You struggled to keep Jeonghan upright as he leaned heavily against your shoulder, humming some half-forgotten ballad into your ear. His hair was falling into his eyes, lips slack in a dopey grin.

Across from you, his sister, your beloved best friend, was swaying slightly on her feet.

“Sooo…” she slurred. “Isn’t he heavy? He’s heavy, right? I told him not to mix soju and beer.”

“You also cheered him on,” you deadpanned, glancing at her with a little more concern. “You don’t look so good either–wait, did you drink from that mystery cocktail?”

“Shhhh,” she hushed you with one finger to your lips. “Shhhh. Listen. Focus. Mission. Jeonghan. Home.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna take him to your apartment, right?”

Your best friend blinked, confusion present on her drunken face.

Then she laughed. “Babe, I can’t even find my own feet.”

You turned your head slowly to where Jeonghan was now lightly beatboxing under his breath with his eyes closed.

“Oh my god.”

Oh my god, indeed.

Somehow, by sheer divine intervention and one very confused taxi driver, you got Jeonghan into the backseat of a cab, while your best friend leaned dramatically against a lamp post, blinking slowly.

“Alright, I’ll ride with him,” she mumbled. “You go home.”

“Uh.” You hesitated. “I think I should go with you two, actually.”

“Noooo.” She waved a limp hand. “I’ll just… go to sleep.”

“What–no, you can’t sleep in a cab– wait, are you calling another one for yourself?”

She nodded very proudly, pressing her phone to her cheek like it was a teddy bear. “Like a pro.”

You sighed, pulling out your phone. “I’m calling someone else to–”

She called out your name in a long and slurred tone.

You turned, and your best friend was suddenly wide awake. Swaying, but possessed by purpose.

“I have a genius idea.”

“…not this again.”

“You take him home.”

“What?!”

“Genius,” she whispered proudly. “He trusts you.”

You stared at her, baffled. You shook your head and said: “I should be taking care of you, not your brother–”

“But I’ll be fiiine,” she grinned, now somehow sitting on the sidewalk. “I live around here. You’re going the same way, anywayyyy. You’re also the responsible one. He’ll be nice to you.”

From the cab, Jeonghan murmured something that sounded vaguely like, “You smell like flowers,” before slumping over dramatically.

You exhaled. And sighed. And almost cried a little.

“…I hate all of you.”

The drive was mostly quiet, save for the muffled sound of traffic and Jeonghan’s occasional humming, off-key, barely coherent, but somehow still hypnotic. His head was back on your shoulder again, like a magnet, a gravitational constant you had no power over.

Your heart hadn’t slowed down since the hallway.

You didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe too hard.

Then, the cab driver cleared his throat. Glanced at you two through the mirror. You, with your face red, with your boss leaning on your shoulders.

“So…” he said, voice light. “Are you two dating?”

You froze.

“I– what? N-No, we’re not–”

“Because you look good together,” the driver continued, oblivious and chuckling. “Like a couple in a drama, you know?”

You were about to melt into the seat and die when Jeonghan stirred beside you.

He blinked slowly. Then let out a soft chuckle.

And in a warm, slurred tone, he said–

“I agree with him… Are we?”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide.

“Jeonghan–!”

But he was smiling now, lopsided and sweet, his cheek still pressed to your shoulder like it was the most natural place in the world.

He turned his face slightly, lips grazing the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re soft,” he mumbled.

Your nervous system stopped completely

The cab driver laughed. “Ahah, young love.”

You slapped your hand over your face, covering every inch that exposed the flush of your cheeks. “I’m going to jump out of this car.”

“I’ll catch you,” Jeonghan murmured, barely audible now, already drifting again.

But his hand, warm and slow, was still holding your wrist. Thumb brushing lazily across your skin like he wasn’t done saying everything he wanted to say.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.

But your heart did. Loudly. The whole time.

Tag list: @sumzysworld, @lixisoul99, @viciousdarlings, reiofsuns2001, @lily409, @armycarat2612, @cheolliesvt

(To everyone commenting/reacting to this story, thank u very much! I'll make sure to actually finish this for u guys 😭❤)

#jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan x you #seventeen

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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BEGGING EVERYONE TO LISTEN TO AUTUMN LEAVES BY BTS IN THE NEXT CHAPTER OF "WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ME?" AHAHAHHA

#svt #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan #seventeen x reader #jeonghan #jeonghan x you #seventeen

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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Appreciation of this legendary Scoups

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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Yoon Jeonghan😭🫶🫶

It's really nice to know that he's doing good and in a good condition! Congratulations on your graduation day today, Hannie! We're so proud of you. Serve well and comeback to us healthy and safe. Hanniehae!🫶🫶💗🩵

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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The fact that we don't have a Clueless-style Northanger Abbey adaptation where Catherine Morland is the most heartbreakingly earnest and unselfaware teenage fangirl with one of the longest self-insert fics on Ao3 is actually a tragedy

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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"What do you think of me?" | yjh [ch2]

Pairing: YJH x Reader

Genre: best friend’s brother to lovers (or something), FLUFF, romcom, office setting, yjh and his sister are nepo babies Summary: As a new intern, you're worried. You're distressed. Good thing that you have an extremely good-looking YSL model as your team leader, right?

A/N: Finally, here's the second chapter RAHHH. Unfortunately, YJH's sister will not be making an appearance here (for a reasonnn). I hope the tone from the last chapter still blends well with the one here, THANK U BTW FOR SO MANY NOTES WHATTT

Teaser | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 2

You arrive twenty-five minutes early.

You were aiming for thirty, but your blouse wouldn’t button right, and your blazer kept sitting weird like it knew you were an impostor. Whatever. You’re here. Early. On time for your overachiever breakdown.

You had every reason to look punctual right now. You’re a new intern, who got in here partially because of a friend. Naturally, you didn’t want to get judged by your new coworkers. You’re half-jogging toward the entrance, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, trying to juggle both with the grace of a drunk flamingo.

You finally enter the infamous high-rise building.

It's even more intimidating in daylight.

It’s the kind of clean that smells expensive, like the ones in hospital lobbies. Glass everywhere—walls, elevators, egos. You’re starting to regret applying here. Maybe you should’ve started in a smaller company.

You place your phone in your pockets and turn to adjust your bag strap when the heel of your shoe catches on the floor. Your coffee wobbles.

You know what comes next. You try your best to regain your balance, but it’s too late. It spills directly onto your chest, a splash of warm regret down your crisp, white, blouse.

It’s your first day. It's the first day!

You yelp. Clutching at the spot and trying to wipe it with the sleeve of your blazer. Great. Now you’re early and stained. Iconic.

“First day?” the receptionist asks, looking up from her screen with eyes that looked like they’ve seen this film a thousand times before.

“Is it that obvious?”

Before she can answer, you hear it—the click of leather shoes, the hum of smugness, the original soundtrack of Boys Over Flowers. You don’t even have to look to know that it’s T-Max’s Paradise personified.

“Trouble already?” Jeonghan asks.

You turn.

He’s walking toward you like the hallway paid him to. No tie, sleeves rolled, blue ID lanyard swaying like it knows it belongs in a magazine spread. His gaze drops to the stain on your blouse, pauses longer than necessary, then looks just above your necklace, or at your necklace? You’re not sure.

His brows twitch up slightly. "Spilled your caffeine privilege already?"

You’re too aware of the way his eyes flicker—not at the mess, but at the heart-shaped pendant resting against your collarbone.

“I—” You glance down. Realize, too late, your heart necklace is hanging outside your shirt. He doesn’t comment. Just smiles.

You wanted to move-on from this humiliation as quickly as possible, so you hold up your badge and try to scan it.

Beep. Red.

Again. Beep. Denied.

The perpetual beeps sound like a tune from the universe mocking you.

“You didn’t read the intern orientation email, did you?”

You blink. “There was an email on that?”

(There wasn’t. The orientation’s face-to-face.)

He hums, lips twitching because he knows he just lied. “Rookie mistake.”

Before you can react, he reaches for your badge.

His fingers graze yours—warm, confident, intentional in a way that feels like it shouldn’t be. You catch your breath before you can stop it.

He doesn’t look fazed at all. He just takes the badge like he does this to you every day. Like your entire nervous system didn’t just reboot.

Beep.The damn scanner finally glows green.

You look up to ask how, but he’s already watching you. Too closely. Too calmly.

“How did that– ?” you start, voice thinner than usual.

His mouth tilts into a smirk. “Manager access.” Of course.

He still hasn’t let go of your badge.

You consider just grabbing it from him, after all, what if he forgets to bring it back to you and you’re gonna be thrust into HR for an incomplete dress code.

But then, with no reason at all, he taps it again. The scanner lights up pointlessly. Another green beep.

Your brows furrow. “It already worked—”

“I know,” he says, finally releasing it, his gaze flickering once—just once—to your hand. “Just making sure.”

Of what? You have no idea. But your heart’s sprinting and your skin still tingles where he touched yours.

And then he turns—because if he stays a second longer, he might make it too obvious.

A few moments later, you two walk towards the elevator. As if to seek triumph from what occurred a while ago, you said, in a-matter-of-fact tone:

“I’m early.”

But he retorts back, as if to say I won.

“Not to me.” He nods toward the elevators. “Let’s go, intern. Try not to spill anything else.”

Another loss. Ughhh, why did you have to trip and spill your coffee?

You step in after him. The doors closed and the reflection of your stained blouse in the mirrored panel. He looks at you while you cross your arms for a failed attempt to cover up your little mistake, and possibly from him seeing the see-through of your shirt done by the stain.

“I don’t appreciate the bullying this early.”

“That wasn’t bullying,” he says lightly. “That was foreplay.”

Your nervous system malfunctions.

What did he say? What did he sayyy?

“Excuse me?!”

He looks directly at you from your reflection, deadpan. “Foreshadowing. You know. Of chaos. Relax.”

You wish the elevator would open a trapdoor just for you. Was he flirting with you or is this just his occasional banter again?

He glances down at your shoes. “By the way, don’t wear those again. You’ll die before lunch.”

“They’re not that bad,” you mutter.

(Girl, they failed you a moment ago?)

“They squeak. And you walk like a traumatized deer.”

The elevator dings. He walks out like nothing happened.

You follow. Traumatized deer and all because unfortunately, Jeonghan is your team leader.

Jeonghan - 1, You - 0

It’s been three weeks since that disaster, and you’ve finally stopped checking if your ID badge will scan.

You’ve also stopped trying to break in those hellish shoes. You wear sneakers now. Professionalism is great until your ankles mutiny.

You’ve adjusted, mostly. Your co-workers are decent. The interns have a group chat. Jeonghan still walks by your desk with the energy of a bored cat and comments like he’s paid per tease.

Progress. Probably.

Today, though, is different.

It’s the start of the rainy season, and every time it rains, you get sick. Right now, you’re very sick. You’re already halfway to a fever dream while finishing cue notes for tomorrow’s pitch when an assistant approaches, looking like she just came out of a horror movie screening.

“Mr. Yoon wants to see you,” she says. “In his office.”

“His actual office?”

She nods. “He said now. And also to knock once. Only once. Don’t touch anything. If you break something, you never existed.”

You gulp. Of course. That was how his sister was in college, so he’d probably also be the same. A “Yoon Family” quirk, you could say.

You walk down the hallway like you’re approaching a final boss battle. Your mind bombarded with questions asking why he wanted to see just you. Is it because you went to work while you’re sick?

The coldness of the glass door in front of you gives you goosebumps. You knock, just once, as instructed.

“Come in,” Jeonghan calls.

You open the door—and immediately smell it.

Lavender. Strong. Warm. All around you.

You stop. He doesn’t look up from his laptop.

You walk forward, eyes on the diffuser glowing softly on the shelf.

“Something wrong?” he asks, finally glancing up.

“It’s… you?” you blurt.

He blinks. “Is what me?”

“The lavender.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean—not in a bad way,” you stammer. “It’s just… it’s everywhere.”

He leans forward on the desk, with his chin on his palm looking amused. “It’s a diffuser.”

Your eyes flick to him. He looks calm. Too calm.

You step closer.

Why?

You’re sick. You’re delirious. That’s the excuse.

You lean forward, barely bent, just enough to inhale near his collar. The scent is stronger near his neck. His skin.

“It is you,” you murmur.

He stares at you, and jerks back. Like you just glitched in the simulation.

“You’re not allowed to weaponize your curiosity,” he says quietly, looking everywhere but you.

You also move back, finally coherent with the state of your situation. “Sorry. That was insane. I’m not well.”

“You can blame me.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

“What?”

You blink quickly as he looks away.

“You’re flustered,” you say, stunned.

“No,” he lies instantly, the “o” sounding a little too high-pitched.

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “You are.”

“Get out.”

“You invited me. Why did you invite me?”

He sighs and covers his face with his hands. “Get out nicely, then.”

But that doesn’t do anything ‘cause you can see how his ears were clearly flushing with red.

Jeonghan - 1, You - 1

It’s been a few days since that surge of confidence overtook you, to the point that you now kind of regret it.

Was it too rash? Did he think I was coming onto him?

You’re halfway through fixing the presentation layout as you were thinking about the mess you semi-made. That was when the shadow of the man you’ve been thinking about for the past few days fell over your desk.

Jeonghan.

“What are you working on?” he asks, already leaning down without waiting for an answer.

One hand braces the edge of your desk, the other slides onto the back of your chair—not touching you, but close enough to feel the gravity of it. His body hovers behind yours, posture casual, voice low near your ear.

Oh God, it’s that damn perfume again.

You suddenly forget how to breathe, let alone type.

“Um… fixing the alignment,” you mumble, scrolling up uselessly. “The text box kept shifting.”

“Hm.” He peers over your shoulder, eyes flicking across your screen. “It’s centered now.”

“I know,” you say too quickly. “Just… triple checking.”

He stays a second too long, gaze still on the screen, but you can feel his eyes on you. Or maybe it’s the lavender. Or the heat of him this close. Or the fact that your brain is short-circuiting.

Then, just as you think you might actually pass out—

He straightens, stepping back with that infuriating little smile.

“Good job,” he says. “Try not to faint from validation.”

And then he’s gone, the imaginary score bored popping out in front of you:

Jeonghan - 2, You - 1

8:30 PM.

You look at the clock on your desk and look around. Everyone’s gone home. You’re packing up when–

“Interesting choice of shoes.”

You whirl around. You’re now reminded of your first day here when he warned you not to wear heels ever again. And he was right. He was always right.

Jeonghan’s leaning against the doorframe.

You glance down. White sneakers. You’d swapped them after almost dying on the copier run.

“They’re practical,” you say. “Some of us actually walk.”

A montage of him walking flashes in your head. It wasn’t a walk, it was a strut. Like he’d been a YSL model in his past life.

He steps closer, eyes dropping to your feet. “Very intern-core.”

You squint. “Better than wearing leather shoes in a thunderstorm.”

“It’s not gonna rai–”

BOOM.

Thunder cracks. You both freeze.

Jeonghan’s eyes twitch, while the corners of your mouth curve upwards, displaying a sense of victory.

“…Do you have an umbrella?” he asks, his voice sounding pitchy, almost like a child who lost its toy.

You laugh at him. “No.” But you were going to regret not bringing the umbrella later.

Jeonghan actually pouts and mutters something. You thought, “cute”, but you stop yourself from thinking anything else before your mouth does it for you. Honestly, he looks like a puppy.

You both go down to the entrance together and look out at the downpour.

Now it’s coming to bite you. How will you get home now?

You furrow your eyebrows, and a sense of contempt shows on your face. Why didn’t you bring your umbrella? Jeonghan probably noticed this because a millisecond later, he drops his bag right next to you.

“Stay here,” he says.

Then sprints out. To the rain. To the pouring rain.

You’re in the passenger seat, still damp from your run to the car. Jeonghan brushes the water from his sleeves.

“I told you to wait inside,” he mutters.

“You parked two feet away.”

“That’s two feet more than I wanted you to get wet.”

“Tragic.” That was what you responded. Is that really how you should reply to him right now?

Silence consumed the car. But it’s not empty—it’s thick. The air smells like rain, leather, and lavender. Just like his office.

You shift. “So. Lavender.”

He hums, eyes on the road.

“You’re obsessed. Diffuser? Lotion? Laundry detergent?”

“Bold of you to assume I do laundry.”

You snort. Like brother, like sister, alright.

It took you a while to start another conversation. Already almost close to your house.

You lean in, mock-squinting at him. “Is your office just a Jo Malone pop-up? Are you hiding candles?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s the faintest clench in his jaw.

“I knew you were a lavender guy,” you add, comfily sinking onto the couch with a smile on your face. “You gave me one back then too.”

The light turns red. Jeonghan rests both forearms on the steering wheel, leans into them. His head tilts slightly, gaze cutting to you—lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

And unfortunately for your nervous system, the motion makes the veins on his forearms very obvious. The sleeves are still rolled up. The watch on his wrist glints. You catch a tiny scar near his thumb. Your brain decides to store all this information like it’s prepping for a pop quiz.

You do not need this level of high-definition detail. Not while trapped in a small moving vehicle. Not while he smells like lavender from whatever cologne costs more than your rent.

“Oh, so you do remember?” he says, voice dipped in amusement. “You’re using it right now, aren’t you?”

You swallow. Bad idea. Now you’re aware of your own pulse. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like making you wonder.”

That earns you a longer look. His eyes flick over your face like he’s searching for something.

“You’re getting confident,” he says, almost to himself.

You manage a smirk, hoping he doesn’t hear your heart screaming in Morse code. “Confidence is in the job description.”

“Mm,” he hums. “Didn’t say I minded.”

The light turns green, but he doesn’t move.

Instead, he leans over. It’s like everything’s in slow motion. The strands of his hair touch your cheeks, and the fabric of his cuff sleeve brushes over your shoulder. You sink further into the couch. Scared that even a sudden movement would result in a moment’s touch that would electrify and kill you.

Click.

He buckles your seatbelt. His fingers brush your arm. Your face inches from his. Your half-lidded eyes try to focus on anything else. Anything but the way he looks directly into them.

The green light’s been on too long; the sound of continuous rain dropping on the window is almost unbearable, like it’s counting until the lights turn red.

Three…

two…

one…

“There,” he murmurs. You could feel the heat from his breath on your cheek. “Can’t let our intern fly out of the car. Imagine the paperwork.”

You exhale. Quiet. Shaky. Jeonghan - 3, You - 1 (+5?)

Tag list: @sumzysworld, @lixisoul99, @viciousdarlings, reiofsuns2001, @lily409, @armycarat2612

#jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan #seventeen #jeonghan #jeonghan x you

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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S.COUPS : ‘THUNDER’ / 250531

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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oh lord NEEEEEEEEEED him

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ohtobelovedbyme · 2 months ago

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"What do you think of me?" | yjh [ch1]

Pairing: YJH x Reader

Genre: best friend’s brother to lovers (or something), FLUFF, romcom, office setting, yjh and his sister are nepo babies Summary: Now that you've just graduated, you don't know which direction to follow next in your life. That is, until your friend recommends you to start working at her family's company (coincidentally, the same company where her brother works).

A/N: Okay, here's the first ever chapter of (please feel free to include some improvement points!!). It's also super long, just keep that in mind. I just winged this and my friends were also the ones who proofread, so props to them 👩‍🦰👧 Lastly, MILITARY HAIRCUT JEONGHAN>>>

Teaser | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Graduating sucks. Graduating from elementary school was weird, you didn’t even notice that you’d already started middle school. Graduating from middle school wasn’t that bad, actually, but then there was high school. You were a new adult, freshly turned 18, and thrust into an unfamiliar city with skyscrapers taller than your local buildings. Fortunately for you, you had your best friend, a certified “city girl,” beside you. And right now, she still is.

Your dorm right now is a mess. All of your things are scattered on the floor, and very few were properly organized in boxes. Unfortunately for you, it’s your last day here since you’ve just graduated. Your best friend was lounging on a box labeled “Do not sit,” phone in her hand, pretending to work. Although it’s obvious that her phone is doing all the work.

She finally looks up to you as you’re trying to bite a piece of scotch tape, and says, “You know what you should do?”

You look at her, confused about what she’s asking about, when you were finally able to tear the tape off.

“Apply to our company.”

You blink at her while placing the tape on a box full of picture frames. Your best friend of 8 years never fails to show her nepo-baby tendencies. Ever since you two were teenagers, she has had a habit of suggesting pretty random shit that you’d consider impossible if you said them.

You knew that she was trying to help you out, after all, you’ve always mentioned how you didn’t know what to do after graduation. But, isn’t it kinda weird since, you know, that would be considered a nepo internship? Besides, her family’s company screams tight-ass.

“Your family’s company?” you repeat. “You mean the scary high-rise building with the marble floors with interns that look like they belong in the Truman Show?”

“Exactly! It’s pretty chill,” she says. “I’m already there anyway. Besides, you’re smart enough to get in. Imagine us slacking off in the break room together.”

You snort out a bit, taking the tape again. “That sounds… corrupt.”

“That’s the goal. Yours and mine.”

Right on cue, as you laugh at her, a knock is heard from the door.

Yoon Jeonghan. In black slacks that elongate his already long legs, with his perfect medium-length hair tucked behind his ears, he gets ready to push up his sleeves like some villain getting ready to torture his captive.

“You said you were done packing twenty minutes ago,” he pestered as his eyebrows furrowed.

Your friend throws your pillow at him. “I’m supervising.”

He catches the pillow mid-air like it’s choreographed and tosses it on the couch. “Oh, I can tell. You’re sweating from all the effort.”

Then he sees you.

And smiles.

Smiles?

As his sister steps outside with her suitcase, you find yourself alone with him. Jeonghan moves closer, picking up a box of yours like it weighs nothing.

“You moving back home after this?” he asks, his voice low and placid.

“Uh-huh, just for a bit, though. Job hunting.”

He hums. “That won’t take long. You’re competent enough. Despite… this.” He gestures vaguely to the chaos that is your dorm floor.

You glance up from organizing. “You sound confident.”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “You’re not stupid. I know that ‘cause my sister won’t shut up about you and your work.”

You stammer something like "thank you" but it’s probably closer to “th-thank-you” and he just tilts his head, looking amused. You’re still gathering the fact that he has heard about your work.

As you were overthinking everything he just said, he stepped closer. He looked at your face for just a moment, then his gaze dropped. To your mouth. A sudden wave of heat instantly flushed your cheeks.

His fingers hover near your lips, just short of touching. He doesn’t move.

You can count the seconds.

One… two…three… Oh god, are you dying? Is this your ticket to heaven?

He finally steps back. You exhale like you’ve been holding your breath underwater.

But he pauses, standing a little too close. “You’ve got tape.”

“Huh?”

“On your face. Right there.” He gestures vaguely near your mouth, his fingers stopping just short of touching your skin. “Very chic. Love the DIY lip gloss.”

He grins pretentiously at your wide-open eyes, your cheeks heating up from either the embarrassment of having tape on or how his fingers almost touched your lips.

Jeonghan cockily walks away as you quickly try to remove the damn tape.

Fuck, isn’t this embarassing.

After giving it some thoughts, you finally did agree to applying for your friend’s company. With your best blazer on, you walk into the conference room. Your heart was pounding in your ears as memorized words started to jumble in your head.

You haven’t even noticed that you were already sitting when a manager from the panel cleared her throat. You look up to see a few respectable managers on the panel.

A stern-looking lady whose voice it was. HR, probably

A bald man with the most glittery eyes you’ve ever seen. …Production? I guess so.

A man in round glasses looking at at presumably your file–

Yoon Jeonghan.

Shit?

When your friend told you he also worked in their family’s company, you weren’t surprised. But for him to be in a managerial position? Nope, you had thought he was somewhere higher?

You nearly fall off your chair. All the nervousness from preparing and now this?

He doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even blink. He just stares at your resume like it personally keyed his car.

“You coordinated multiple campus events,” he says, voice as neutral as a gray wall. “Tell us about a time you resolved conflict, without any real authority to back you up. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

One of the other managers glances at him like bro, what is your damage?

Before this, he hadn’t even asked any questions to the past interviewees. Hell, he hadn’t even talked.

You blink rapidly. “I-I mediated disputes by implementing sanctions? And promoting emotional… uh… clarity?”

He nods slowly, then his gaze flicks to your shoes. “You’re nervous.”

Sir.

“Well-yes,” you mutter. “Interviews are stressful.”

He finally writes something down. “You think this is stressful? You should see our Slack group chats.”

A pause. Then, he says very softly: “You’re doing fine, by the way.”

Which, somehow, makes it worse. The Sahara itself would be jealous of how you’re now a puddle on the floor.

After a week of radio silence from job portals and spiraling in jobless anxiety, you return home. Only to find your best friend sitting at the dinner table with your parents like she’s the daughter.

“Why are you here?” you ask, baffled and admittedly peeved.

“Dear, don’t talk to your friend like that.” Your mother suddenly stops her conversation with your friend midway, welcomes you home, and starts talking to your father about some whatnot-home-recreation-whatever.

You sit beside her with a dramatic sigh. “Dinner,” she says. “Also, I have something to tell you later.”

“You better take me out for some soju after this because life is hard.”

“No, it’s way better.”

Your parents chuckle as she leans toward you, whispering with a smug look on her face: “You got the job.”

“You’re in. My brother pulled some strings.”

You scream. Out loud. No shame. You pull her into a side hug, both of you bouncing in your seats.

“Wait, your brother? Jeonghan?”

“He’s the one who insisted,” she says, smug.

“I thought I fucked it up!”

“You were sweating so bad,” she agrees. “Like a broken faucet.”

You groan. “Shut up. You’re the worst. Wait, how do you even know that?

“First off, nope, you’re the worst. Secondly, Jeonghan told me.”

Jeonghan? Oh God, whyyyyy?

“God, you probably looked like how you did when you confessed to Seungcheol back in middle school.”

“OH MY GOD, SHUT UP. DON’T. DON’T EVER MENTION THAT EVER AGAIN.”

“I’m imagining your 14-year-old sweaty head attached to your adult body stuttering–”

You’re mid-lunging at her when you freeze.

There was a soft chuckle behind you.

Jeonghan steps out of the hallway, unhurried, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. He’s grinning like the devil got a promotion.

“I think she made the right call,” he says, as he sits beside you, sipping from a glass like this is a family drama and he’s the cool second lead who actually gets the girl.

Your head turns to him so fast you feel whiplash. “Oh, god, you’re here. Why are you here? How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he says with a shrug. “Also, seriously? Seungcheol? That’s your type?”

Your parents are laughing now, and your friend is conveniently stuffing her face with rice to avoid eye contact.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I hate everything.”

He sets a glass of water in front of you, his voice low.

“I don’t,” he says. “Not even close.”

You peek through your fingers at his smirk. Of course, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Later that evening, you step outside with the siblings to see them out. Your best friend gets in the backseat of the car to place the 20-something dishes your mom packed for them.

As you waited outside to say your goodbyes, Jeonghan walked closer to stand beside you. He drifts closer, his steps unhurried. He’s close enough that you could smell him. His signature sandalwood scent, mixed with the spicy aroma of kimchi and… lavender. A little too similar to yours. Close enough that you wonder—did he pick it on purpose? Or are you just imagining things? Either way, you're drunk on the mix, and it’s hard to tell where your perfume ends and his begins.

“You did fine in the interview,” he abruptly says, while putting both of his hands behind his head.

You raise a brow. “Even if I was a nervous wreck?” Even when you asked me if I was the nervous wreck?

“I’ve seen worse,” he pauses, then continues with a lower voice, “Hell, I’ve been worse.”

He clears his throat. “Anyway. Is that the perfume I gave you?”

He leans forward slightly, as if about to say something else—or get closer.

“Jeonghan, get in here! I can’t adjust the passenger seat!”

He halts mid-step, clicks his tongue softly. “Next time, then.”

Your hand, which was unknowingly clutching your heart-shaped necklace, suddenly loosens its grip. As he walks to the other side of the car, your friend takes his place and notices the swift blinking of your eyes, pointed towards him.

“Honestly, if Jeonghan wasn’t my brother, I’d think he had a thing for you.”

Then again, your answer is cut off as it was her brother’s turn to call her.

“See you next week, ex-roommie!”

She ducks into the car like she didn’t just detonate a bomb.

What the hell?

Tags (ngl this is so exciting, lol): @sumzysworld, @lixisoul99, @viciousdarlings

#jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #dying inside #fluff

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