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choseeo · 21 days ago

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╰—— 𝓲. EARNED IT

【 𝓜𝖺𝗀𝒾𝖼 】 ──── 𝖤𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗌

୨ৎ. : 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿， 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿，𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿， 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 𝗂’𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿， 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝓯．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

◜ ᴗ ◝ ✫ ❛ 연서 ❜ : Note that these are just my opinions and tropes I feel like suits Enhypen well 😭 you might have a different point of view which is totally fine. Don’t mind the title it’s a song from my favorite, this has been in my drafts for a long time!

𝐈 ──── 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

𝖡𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽: I feel like this is so heeseung coded, he’s definitely the type to eye you whenever you pass by maybe to tell your brother something mom said. And the type to slip out during a hang out and sneak into your room just to be a Menace

Warnings ✫彡 Age gap (like 3years), teasing, mutual pinning, mention of 💀 (your brothers going to end me)

You don’t remember the first time Heeseung came over. He’s just always been there.

A pair of sneakers by the front door that weren’t yours or your brother’s. A second voice yelling during late-night game sessions. A boy’s laughter bleeding into your dreams while you tried to fall asleep down the hall. For most of your childhood, Heeseung was just “Jake’s friend” the one who never remembered to take his leftovers, who somehow always found a reason to be around even when your brother wasn’t home yet.

He used to ruffle your hair and call you stupid nicknames. You hated that. You hated the way he’d lean against the kitchen counter like he lived there, grinning as if your annoyance was the best part of his day. He was always teasing, always getting a rise out of you. But then somewhere along the way and you don’t know when the teasing slowed. The grins softened. And he stopped touching your hair.

You haven’t asked why. You’re not sure you want to know.

These days, Heeseung still comes over. Less often, now that your brother's busy with work and you’re both technically adults, but he never really left. He’ll drop by when he’s nearby, pick up a drink from your fridge like he paid rent, and sit on your couch with that same lazy ease. You don’t tell him to leave. You don’t roll your eyes like you used to. And you definitely don’t call him “oppa” like your brother jokes about.

Heeseung never liked that joke anyway.

Today, it’s raining though not heavy enough to storm, but loud enough to blur the windows. You’re curled up on the living room floor with your laptop and a bag of snacks, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. A show is on, low in the background, but you’re not really listening.

The front door clicks open without warning.

Only one person uses the spare key like that.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t lock this,” Heeseung says, toeing off his shoes. “It’s like begging to get robbed.”

“By you?” you mumble, not looking up. “What’re you gonna steal? My expired yogurt?”

“I was thinking your heart, but the yogurt works too.” He smiled. You glare at him. He’s smiling like he didn’t just say that out loud. Like he always says things like that and never means them. And you hate that he’s so good at it. You hate that your stomach twists anyway.

He plops onto the couch and leans back with a sigh. His hair is damp from the rain, a little messy, and there’s a tiny scratch on his knuckle like he caught it on something stupid. He looks tired. Older, even though he’s not that much older. Just enough to make you feel like you’re still catching up.

“You eat yet?” he asks after a moment, already peeking into your snack bag like it belongs to him.

“Don’t touch that,” you swat his hand away. “And no. I wasn’t hungry.”

He frowns a little. “When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t chips or cup ramen?”

You shrug. He clicks his tongue and stands. “Come on.”

“What?”

“We’re ordering real food. And no, you don’t get a vote.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“Only because you’re bad at taking care of yourself.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t stop him when he grabs your phone to scroll through delivery apps. He picks your favorite place without asking and adds the drink you always get. He still remembers. You pretend not to notice.

When the food finally arrives, you both eat on the floor, legs crossed, the rain still steady outside. For a while, it’s quiet. Comfortable. Like this isn’t weird. Like this is just another day and not something that’s been building slowly, unbearably, for months.

“He texted me the other day,” Heeseung says suddenly. You look up a bit confused

“Your brother. He said he misses your cooking.” You let out a snort. “He says that ‘cause the office cafeteria sucks.” “Still.” Heeseung smiles faintly. “Said to check on you too.”

“So you’re on babysitting duty?” He looks at you for a second too long. “I don’t mind.” Your heart stutters. You look away first.

After you finish eating, you sit with your knees pulled to your chest, picking at the hem of your hoodie. Heeseung leans against the couch, arms crossed behind his head. You don’t know why you feel like saying something. Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at the ceiling like he’s trying not to look at you.

“Why do you still come here?” you ask quietly. He blinks. “What do you mean?” “My brother’s not here. You could just... not.”

Heeseung doesn’t answer right away. Then he says, “You think I only came here because of him?” You hesitate. “Didn’t you?”

He turns his head, finally meeting your eyes. “Maybe at first.” Your throat goes dry. “But not anymore,” he says.

And you don’t know what to say to that. You’re not even sure what he means. If he means anything or if he’s just being Heeseung again, saying things that sound real but never crossing the line.

You want to ask. You want to say then why do you look at me like that? But you’re scared of the answer.

He must see something in your face, because his voice goes softer. “I never saw you as a kid, you know. Not really.”

You swallow. “I know I teased you a lot. And maybe I should’ve backed off sooner. But you were never just his little sister to me.”

You stare at the floor. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think I could.” He breathes out, a little unsteady. “Didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Too late for that,” you say, but your voice cracks a little. Just a little

Heeseung shifts, turning toward you completely now. He rests his arms on his knees, leaning in without crowding you. Always like that. Close, but not too close. Unless you ask.

You don’t ask. But you don’t move away either. He watches you quietly. Then, “You ever think about it?” “About what?”

He doesn’t smile this time. Doesn’t tease. Just says it like it’s the only thing he’s been thinking about for weeks.

“Me and you” Your breath catches. You don’t speak. “I know it’s messy,” he says. “And maybe it’s selfish. But I can’t stop thinking about it.” Heeseung doesn’t reach for you. He just sits there, letting the silence fill the space between you.

And maybe that’s what makes it feel real. The way he waits. You look up slowly, meeting his eyes. “I think about it too.”

His expression shifts but not surprise, not relief. Something softer. Like he already knew. Like he’s been waiting for you to admit it first.

Then he laughs, a little breathless. “Your brother’s going to end me.” You smile, and this time, you let your knee brush his.

𝐈𝐈 ──── 𝖩𝖠𝖸

𝖢𝖾𝗈 𝗑 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖾: this is so Jay coded like 😔✋ actually I thought of barista x customer or something similar to that. This is actually one of my favorite tropes. If I see a ceo x secretary or employee count me in! 😼 (except when NSFW)

Warnings ✫彡 jealousy, hints of favoritism, confession, there’s a very tiny hint of angst

You’re not entirely sure when it started.

The first time CEO Park aka Jay, as his nameplate reads, though no one dares call him that. Came down to your floor, everyone just assumed it was a fluke. Maybe his assistant was busy. Maybe there was a meeting he wanted to monitor personally. Maybe he got lost. Who knows what CEOs do?

But then he came back the next day. And the day after that.

Not for meetings. Not for announcements. Just… hovering.

You noticed it first when he stood behind you during lunch hour, pretending to read the team bulletin board. He didn’t say anything, just stood a little too long, a little too close. Your manager stammered when she saw him. Your coworkers went dead silent. And Jay? He only glanced down at you once before quietly walking away.

The next week, he sent you an email.

Subject: Data request

No greeting. No explanation. Just a specific task compiling figures from a project you weren’t even assigned to. You had to double-check the recipient field to make sure it wasn’t a mistake.

You almost didn’t do it. But then he sent a follow-up.

Please complete by EOD. Let me know if you need access.

And you did need access. Which meant asking him directly. Which meant getting called into his office.

You’d never been in it before. Not in the real way. The one where it’s just you and him, no buffer, no glass doors, no assistant tapping a watch from the hallway. His office was sleek, cold, expensive in that quiet way you only notice when you’re alone in it. He was at his desk, typing something, but he looked up the second you walked in.

“You need access to the archive folder?” he asked.

You nodded, trying not to fidget. “Um, yeah. I wasn’t assigned to that project, so—”

“I know.” You gave him a long stare and then blinked. “Oh.”

He didn’t offer more. Just turned to his screen, typed something, then said, “Done.”

You stood there awkwardly, unsure if you were supposed to leave. He looked up again, and for a second, his gaze softened, only barely. But you were quick enough to catch it.

“Anything else?” he asked. You shook your head. “Then don’t worry. I trust your work.”

You walked out of that office feeling like you’d been hit with something. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or a trap. Maybe both.

Since then, it’s been a pattern.

Random assignments that aren’t yours. A silent presence during your floor’s coffee breaks. The way your name gets mentioned in meetings you’re not in. Once, your coworker joked that you must have something on the CEO to be getting this much attention. You laughed it off. But you also started wondering.

Especially when the cafeteria changed your lunch.

You didn’t request anything. You’ve never even spoken to the catering team. But one day, while everyone else was eating dry chicken and steamed vegetables, your tray came out with a completely different order. Your favorite. The one you mentioned once, in passing, during a casual conversation with a client that Jay definitely wasn’t a part of.

“Guess someone up there likes you,” one of your coworkers teased, nudging your tray. You tried to laugh. You really did. But your eyes flicked toward the corner of the room where Jay was sitting. Alone. No one ever eats in the cafeteria at his level, but there he was, sipping black coffee and watching you over the rim of his cup.

You didn’t eat much that day.

It got worse or better, depending on how you look at it when you met a client in person last week. Some mid level guy from a partner firm, friendly, decent-looking, maybe a little flirty, but professional enough.

You didn’t think anything of it until Jay showed up halfway through the meeting.

He wasn’t scheduled. You know, because you checked the meeting invite twice. But there he was in a dark suit, unreadable expression, nodding curtly to everyone before quietly sitting at the table, directly across from you.

Your client stiffened. You could feel the temperature drop in the room.

Jay didn’t say much. Just observed. But every time you opened your mouth to speak, his eyes were already on you. Not glaring. Just watching, too carefully. As if he was waiting for something to go wrong. As if he didn’t like the way the client smiled at you.

After the meeting, he didn’t say a word. Just walked out. You got called into his office later that afternoon. No greeting. No preamble. “Is he your type?”

You blinked a look of confusion written on your face. “What?”

Jay didn’t repeat himself. Just stared, cool and sharp behind his desk. You tried to laugh it off, but your voice came out thin. “I— he’s just a client.” Jay tilted his head slightly, almost like he didn’t believe you. Or didn’t care.

“You were smiling a lot.”

You folded your arms. “Is that a problem?” “No.” He said it too quickly. “Just an observation.” You didn’t reply.

After a long pause, he added, “I don’t like distractions in my department.” You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m not in your department.” He smiled, faint and cold. “Aren’t you?”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Still don’t.

It’s been two days since then. Jay hasn’t emailed you. Hasn’t shown up on your floor. The silence is louder than his presence.

And you hate how much you miss it.

You hate that you glance toward the elevators every time they ding. That you’ve started dressing a little nicer, just in case. That you read and reread your emails hoping for a one line message you can pretend to be annoyed about.

You hate that you know exactly what this is.

Because maybe it started off harmless. Maybe you really were just a random employee he happened to notice. But somewhere along the line, he stopped pretending.

He’s not subtle. Not anymore. He doesn’t want to be. He wants you to know that he’s watching. Worse, he wants you to know that he cares.

And the scariest part? You’re starting to care back.

You don’t expect to see him again so soon. Not after the client meeting. Not after the silence that followed. But he’s waiting by the elevator when you clock out, hands in his pockets, tie loosened like he’s been standing there a while.

You stop a few feet away. “Forgot where your office is?” His expression doesn’t change. “Walk with me.” You should say no. You really should. But you nod.

Neither of you speak as you fall into step beside him, the building quiet around you. It’s late enough that most people are gone. The fluorescent lights above buzz faintly.

He waits until you’re alone in the lobby to speak. “I shouldn’t have done that.” You glance at him. “Done what?”

“All of it.” He exhales. “The assignments. The cafeteria. Watching you during meetings like some jealous kid.”

You stare at him a bit caught off guard. He doesn’t stop. “I kept telling myself it was nothing. That it was just interest. Curiosity.” He pauses. “But it’s not. Hasn’t been for a while.”

Then your throat tightens. “I see you talking to someone else and it ruins my day,” he says quietly. “I send you pointless work just to hear your voice. I change the cafeteria menu so you’ll eat properly. It’s pathetic.”

You look at him, really look at him. He’s not cold now. Not untouchable. Just a man with his guard down. “Then why didn’t you just say something?” you whisper. “Because I’m your boss,” he says. “Because you’re not mine to want.”

“But you still do.” He meets your eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, “What if I want you to keep ruining your day over me?” That makes him smile, real, unguarded. “You’re serious?” “You’re the one changing my lunch like a loser,” you mutter.

He laughs, soft and disbelieving. “Okay. Noted.”

And then, finally, he steps closer. “I like you,” he says. “Not as an employee. Just you.” You nod once, heart pounding. “Good,” you say, “because I like you too.”

And that’s how it starts. No grand ending. Just a something neither of you want to ignore anymore.

𝐈𝐈𝐈 ──── 𝖩𝖠𝖪𝖤

𝖦𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖷 𝖡𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝖺𝗍: this is so Jake coded 😝 I actually thought of like that one hyper sporty guy x the girl who looks like she would end him in the crowd. But that’s still golden retriever x black cat 🤨 anyways—

Warnings ✫彡 confession, none really

You didn’t want to be here.

The gym smells like sweat and stadium food, and your ears are already ringing from the high pitched screaming echoing off the walls. Every seat is packed, people crammed together in school colors, waving signs and screaming names like their lives depend on this game.

You’re not one of them. You’re here because the school made it mandatory. Some nonsense about unity and school pride. You brought your sketchbook just to cope. You haven’t looked up once since you sat down.

“Can’t believe I’m missing three hours of peace for guys chasing a ball,” you mutter, flipping to a blank page. The girl next to you is crying over a player named “Jake.” Apparently he just made a shot. You didn’t even notice.

You sketch a dragon eating a basketball.

The crowd keeps screaming.

You keep drawing.

And then, twenty minutes in, something shifts. There’s a pause in the game, and a sudden wave of attention sweeps through the stands. You hear his name again, Jake Sim! followed by more cheering, clapping, someone literally chanting. You glance up for the first time, if only to rest your eyes.

He’s standing near the bench, water bottle in one hand, jersey clinging to his back with sweat. He’s tall, tan, flushed from running, with hair that looks way too perfect for someone who’s been sprinting for an hour. And he’s smiling. Wide and honest, like he actually enjoys this.

He looks up. And somehow, somehow he looks directly at you. You freeze. For a second, you wonder if he’s looking past you. But no, his gaze is steady. Amused. Curious.

You stare blankly at him only causing him to smile wider. You immediately look down and draw a frown on the dragon’s face.

You think that’s the end of it.

Spoiler alert: it’s not.

Because an hour and a half later, when the game ends (your school wins, apparently and the entire place explodes), someone taps your shoulder. You turn, expecting one of the student council idiots.

But no It’s him. Yes Jake

“Hey,” he says, breathless, still holding his jersey in one hand like he couldn’t even wait to change. “You were in the front row, right?” You stare. “I was sitting.”

He laughs. “Yeah, no! I mean, I saw you.”

You raise a brow. “I wasn’t cheering.” “That’s why I saw you.” You narrow your eyes.

He gestures at your sketchbook. “You were drawing during the game. Looked intense.” You glance at it. The dragon now has a scoreboard crushed in its mouth. Jake steps a little closer, grinning. “Can I see?” “No.”

He tilts his head. “You’re kind of scary.” He laughs again. And this time, it’s not forced, he genuinely finds this entertaining. “I’m Jake, by the way.”

You don’t answer. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” You pause. “You’re the guy everyone screams for.”

“Technically true,” he says, mock offended. “Also team captain. Student athlete. Homecoming prince.”

You shrug. “None of that helps me.”

Jake looks at you like you’re the most fascinating creature he’s ever met. “What’s your name?” he asks. “You don’t need it.”

He grins. “Bet I’ll get it anyway.”

You shut your sketchbook. “I’m leaving now.”

Jake watches you stand, that amused glint still in his eyes. “See you around, mystery girl.”

You figure he’ll forget about it. Guys like him? They’ve got fans. Whole crowds. Girls writing his name on their arms and following his Instagram like it’s scripture. But then he starts showing up. Not dramatically. Just... around.

You spot him by the art wing. Once outside the cafeteria. Once when you’re sitting under the tree near the back field and he jogs up like it’s pure coincidence. It’s not. You’re not stupid. “You stalking me now?” you ask the third time.

Jake shrugs, handing you a smoothie. “You looked like you needed one.” You stare at it. “How did you know I like [Favorite fruit]?”

“I didn’t. Lucky guess.”

You take a sip just to shut him up. (It's your favorite. You don’t tell him that.)

Somehow, it becomes routine.

Jake pops up at odd moments like after practice, during lunch, in the library (where he tries to whisper and absolutely fails). He talks a lot. Like, a lot. You don’t. He doesn’t seem to mind.

You learn he has a dog named Layla. That he listens to the same five songs before every game. That he failed one math test and panicked so hard he now brings a lucky pen to every exam like it’s a religious ritual.

In exchange, you give him... nothing. Or so you think. But he watches you draw. Doesn’t even ask anymore just sits beside you quietly, sometimes offering stupid commentary like, “That tiger’s kind of hot,” or “Why does the alien look like Coach Kim?”

You snort. “Because it’s yelling.” He grins. He always grins.

One afternoon, you’re sketching outside after school when you hear footsteps. Jake again.

You don’t look up. He drops onto the bench beside you, hair damp from practice. “I have a theory,” he says.

You hum.

“You act cold to keep people away. But actually, you’re just soft on the inside.” You deadpan, “I have a theory too.” “Yeah?” “You’re brain damaged from too many headers.”

He laughs so loudly a squirrel bolts from the tree above. “I like you, you know,” he says suddenly. You blink. He’s not smiling this time. Just looking at you, serious. Warm.

“Like, like like you,” he adds, because he’s a golden retriever and can’t do anything without sincerity.

You stare at him. “You don’t even know me.” “I’m learning,” he says. “You think I come out here for fun?”

You pause. “You like me because I ignore you?”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I like you because you don’t pretend.” That shuts you up.

“I like the way you think. The way you draw. The way you make me earn every word out of you.”

You fold your arms. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smiles. “Probably.” Silence.

Then you sigh. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I like you too, idiot.”

Jake lights up so fast you physically recoil. “You what— wait, you’re serious?”

“Unfortunately.” He beams. “Best day ever.” You shove his shoulder, but he just leans into it.

He walks you home that day. He asks to hold your hand. You let him. You’re still a black cat. He’s still a golden retriever. But somehow, it works. And neither of you want it any other way.

𝐈𝐕 ──── 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

𝖥𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗄𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗌𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗋l: okay so I originally thought of the same trope as Jake just reversed but I wanted each member to have different tropes. Not like this isn’t similar to Jake, it is a tiny bit lol

Warnings ✫彡 sunghoon is a bit dramatic during the confession, just fluff and a bit of crack

You were never supposed to fall onto the ice.

Technically, you weren’t even supposed to be near the rink. You were just walking by after getting lost trying to find the photography room, again when your shoe decided betrayal was its destiny and slipped. And before you could curse, you crashed straight through the half open rink door, flailed like a dying moth, and landed on your butt with all the grace of a soggy pancake.

“Are you okay?” You blinked up.

The human ice sculpture himself. Park Sunghoon.

God really said: let’s humiliate you in front of the most ethereal man on campus.

“…You good?” he asked again, more awkward now, and crouched slightly like you were a squirrel he didn’t want to scare off.

You muttered a dignified “I’m fine,” while scrambling up and tripping again on your untied lace.

He reached out. You stared. And for a moment, it was just cold air, your flushed cheeks, and his gloved hand inches from yours.

You took it. He pulled you up easily. You tried not to die inside.

It would’ve ended there. A funny “meet-fall” and a bruised tailbone but it didn’t.

Because for some reason, you kept running into him. And not on purpose. You fell into the auditorium once (you swore the carpet was evil), dropped your sketchbook down the stairs once (and watched him pick it up), and once? Once, you tried to carry a whole box of props for drama club and accidentally body slammed him outside the gym.

Sunghoon didn’t say much through it all. But he also… never avoided you. He started giving tiny nods when you walked by, holding doors open for a bit too long, and you swore once, just once you caught him smiling at your sketchbook when you were doodling during free period.

He also got weirdly flustered every time you said his name.

You: “Thanks, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon: “Affirmative.”

You: “…huh?”

Sunghoon: “I mean— yes. You’re welcome. That’s what people say. I’m people.”

You’d never seen a boy try so hard to reboot his own brain before. And it only got worse from there.

It was during his late night practice when he finally snapped.

You had been sketching quietly in the bleachers, watching him twirl and spin and do things that looked like he was defying gravity on knife shoes. You were there by accident the first few times. But now… you stayed. You didn’t even pretend to draw anymore.

Sunghoon skated to a stop one night, chest heaving, sweat damp hair stuck to his forehead.

You looked up.

He said nothing for a second.

And then, robotically: “I experience emotional disturbance in your presence.”

“…Huh?” “I have developed a strong internal reaction. To your… existence.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. “What does that even mean?” “I am malfunctioning,” he added. “I believe it is… love.” You blinked. And blinked again.

Then you burst out laughing.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened like you’d just slapped him with a baguette. “I KNEW IT,” he blurted, horrified. “I knew I sounded weird. I practiced but it didn’t work. My brain collapsed. You hate me.”

You were wheezing now. “Dude. You literally confessed like a robot.” He looked seconds away from skating into the boards and disappearing forever.

“Sunghoon,” you said between laughs, standing up and walking to the edge of the rink, “if you’re trying to tell me you like me, you can just say that.”

“I do like you,” he muttered, now pink as his hoodie string.

“I like you too,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just watched him emotionally combust in real time. “Even if you sound like ChatGPT with a crush.”

He stared. “You do?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I sat through your practices for weeks. Voluntarily. In the cold. You think I do that for fun?”

“…I thought you were just lost.” “You thought I got lost the same way seventeen times?”

“Consistent directional failure is real,” he whispered, a little panicked.

You grinned, resting your arms on the rink railing. “So what now, malfunctioning boy?”

He skated closer, his usual elegance back in motion until he tried to smirk coolly and accidentally tripped on the edge of his own blade, smacking into the barrier with a muffled “ow.”

He groaned into his arm. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said, smiling like a menace. “But now I’m definitely putting that in my sketchbook.”

He finally looked up at you, ears red, face exasperated and then broke into the softest laugh.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbled. And just like that, the Ice Prince melted for you.