kay

she/her | multi | i write mediocre fics/ drabbles (at times) for you to consume at 3 a.m

[studioeisa]

im here to harrow you.

thinking about f1 minghao crashing out on radio…. idk why… its burned in my mind…

crash and burn 📟 minghao x reader.

★ mercedes driver!minghao x reader ┆ word count: 1.8k ┆ includes: profanity, slight Trivia 承: Love reference. ┆ footnotes: oh, you are CRUEL for preying on my hyperfixation like this. how i ended up writing this much is anybody's guess.

For a moment, the entirety of Mercedes falls quiet.

You could hear a pin drop. The pit wall, the operations room, the garage. Deathly silent. 

Xu Minghao never swore on the radio. 

He could have. He’s certainly had his fair share of instances where a cuss or two would have been acceptable. The time he crashed into Williams’ Vernon on the final lap of the Australian Grand Prix, for example. Or the Singapore race where he ended up in the barriers after battling his teammate, Wonwoo, for podium position. 

Minghao hadn’t cussed then. Everybody liked to joke that his face often did the talking for him— his expressions post-race landing him on the front page of every sports media outlet. 

The Chinese racer was calm, cool, and collected under pressure. Critical without being cruel. Demanding without being demeaning. 

And yet, today, in Monaco— 

“Why do I have the penalty?” Minghao screeches, his voice crackling over the radio. “Hello?”

“Track limits, turn nine,” his race engineer says, voice carefully measured.

“You’re kidding!” Minghao downshifts aggressively as he rounds the next corner. The tires wail, the car jolts, and the telemetry lights up with data that makes the pit wall wince. “I stayed within the white line! You saw it, everyone saw it!” 

The pit wall scrambles. Engineers replay the footage frame by frame, dissecting every pixel of the contentious corner. The commentators speculate wildly, cameras cutting to Minghao’s onboard view. Sky Sports plays the radio message on repeat, the words for fuck’s sake! echoing through living rooms worldwide.

But Minghao doesn't care about the broadcast. Doesn't care about the headlines already being written. His pulse hammers, hands locked around the steering wheel like a vice.

“Box this lap, Hao. Serve the penalty,” the team calls. “Then push. We can still fight for points.”

Minghao murmurs something incoherent, though it doesn’t take a genius to guess that it’s probably another curse. He lifts off the throttle, coasts through the last sector, and dives into the pit lane. The Mercedes crew swarms the car, stoic and efficient, every second ticking down with excruciating slowness. 

The lollipop stays down.

Ten seconds feel like an eternity.

Minghao slams the throttle as soon as he’s released, launching back onto the track with a cloud of tire smoke.

“Gap to P10?” he demands, his tone unusually biting. 

“7.3 seconds to Boo. But DRS is enabled—” 

“I can catch him,” Minghao decides on his engineer’s behalf. 

Nobody doubts it, really. 

Minghao takes the next lap like a man possessed. Nailing apexes, brushing curbs, deploying battery in the perfect spots. Purple sector times flash on the screen; the crowd roars as he slices through the field like a scalpel.

Clean. Precise. Ruthless. 

Minghao pushes right past Alpine’s Seungkwan, who screeches into his own radio about this reckless man, trying to kill him with the way he faked to the outside. It doesn’t matter to Minghao. Not when he’s through. 

“P10, Hao,” his engineer says, relief bleeding into his voice. “Keep it up.” 

“Don’t—” Minghao cuts himself off. Everybody can more or less guess what he was about to say. Don’t tell me what to do, he had planned to snap, and it only drives the team into a deeper state of confusion. 

It’s even worse in the press room. 

Minghao sits in the middle, flanked by Aston Martin’s Seokmin and Red Bull’s Jihoon. Minghao’s Mercedes suit is still speckled with sweat, and his jaw is tight, hands clasped in front of him on the table.

The moderator introduces them. “We’ll start with questions for the drivers. First, to Mercedes’ Xu Minghao. P9 after serving a 10-second penalty. Can you walk us through your race?” 

A muscle in Minghao’s jaw ticks. Not a good sign.

Minghao leans into the microphone and very simply states, “It was bullshit.” 

Again, that stunned silence. Seokmin balks like he had been physically struck. Jihoon fights back a grin. 

The moderator blinks. “Uh,” she stammers. “Could you elaborate on that?” 

“The penalty,” Minghao says plainly. “It was bullshit. I’ve seen the footage. I stayed within track limits. And even if I hadn’t, we both know there were other drivers exceeding limits all race who didn’t get penalized.” 

A reporter from BBC Radio pipes up. “You’ve been known for keeping a cool head in difficult situations, but we heard your radio messages. Do you regret your reaction?” 

The question draws a humorless laugh from Minghao. Today, his wit is razor-like in its sharpness. The claws are out, so to speak, as Minghao answers the query. 

“Regret? No. I regret not pushing harder after the penalty. I lost ten seconds and still clawed my way back to points.” He pauses, letting the fact sink in. “What does that tell you?”

Somebody from Fox Sports pushes the envelope. “Are you implying bias in the stewarding?” the journalist calls out. 

Minghao’s eyes flash, making even the most fearless of the media personnel shrink back a bit. 

“I’m saying there needs to be consistency,” he hisses. “That’s all.” 

Mercedes’ PR manager shifts uncomfortably in the background; one can assume they’re already drafting damage control statements in their head. The list of people to apologize to only grows when a ballsy ESPN journo dares to ask, “Do you think this will affect your relationship with the FIA?” 

There’s no reason for the FIA— the Formula One’s governing body— to be dragged into this. Or maybe there is, with the way Minghao is crashing out in public. 

The racer smiles coldly. “Maybe,” he answers, “but I’m not here to make friends.” 

“Okay,” the moderator interjects. “I think it’s time for us to move on—” 

Minghao concedes, leaning back into his chair and pushing the microphone over to Jihoon. There’s the slightest of miscalculations, though, when Minghao grumbles something to the Red Bull driver.

The microphone catches Minghao’s snide side comment, supposedly meant solely for Jihoon’s ears. “You should ask the FIA why they’re so scared of drivers who fight back,” the Chinese driver huffs. 

The room explodes. Minghao doesn’t flinch. 

Mercedes’ PR manager accepts that it’s going to be a long, long night. 

Even Wonwoo doesn’t have an answer for his co-driver’s uncharacteristic behavior. The driver frowns when the team principal brings it up. 

Wonwoo runs a hand through his dark, sweat-slicked hair, as if reviewing what he witnessed pre- and post-race. “Hao was already a bit… off when he came in this morning,” Wonwoo admits. “Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something.” 

“Drivers like Minghao don’t just wake up one morning and decide they’re going to be the devil reincarnated,” the team principal says tentatively. 

Wonwoo takes a moment to contemplate. “Trouble in paradise, maybe?” 

“Drivers like Minghao—” 

“Don’t let their personal lives affect their racing,” Wonwoo finishes before waving his hand dismissively. “Well, I don’t know, then.” 

Except— for once— Wonwoo is right. 

The team doesn't press Minghao to celebrate, not when he’s a walking PR disaster in a foul mood. He heads straight back to his apartment, shedding all his rage on the way home. 

It’s the only reason he manages to gently open the front door. He toes off his shoes at the doorway and shrugs off his hoodie, each action deliberate in its intent and slowness.

He finds you in the kitchen.

You’re seated at one of the bar stools, forearms leaning against the island. Minghao doesn’t come close. Not at first. He lingers a couple of steps away, stock still as the two of you lock gazes. 

You open your mouth. Minghao beats you to the punch line. 

“I know,” he says, his voice the most gentle it’s been the entire day. “Trust me, I know.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you off.” 

Minghao lets out a derisive snort of laughter, though he’s quick to look chastised when he catches the shift in your expression. “Alright,” he says tiredly. “What were you going to say, then?” 

You hop off the stool. Minghao holds his breath. 

He still feels like he isn’t breathing by the time you’re standing right in front of him. Where others might hesitate, you don’t. 

Your hand reaches up to cup Minghao’s face. Your palm is warm against his cheek, but your words are much warmer. 

“I was going to apologize,” you say slowly, enunciating each word, “for breaking rule number three.” 

Rule number three. To have it brought up now is comedic. Minghao thinks of the restaurant tissue framed in the living room, the one bearing the silly list the two of you had jotted down when you first started dating. 

The very rule you’re referring to right now had been in Minghao’s loopy handwriting, underlined twice to emphasize its importance. 

#3: No fights on race weekends. 

It had come with an asterisk, a couple of caveats. Still, it was one of those ‘rules’ the two of you tried to see through the most. For not only Minghao’s sanity, but Mercedes’ as well. 

Minghao sighs, the tension in his shoulders easing with the heavy exhale. He can’t help it; his cheek nuzzles into your palm, seeking the familiarity of your touch after being without it last night. 

(That was his choice, admittedly, after he opted to sleep in the guest room instead of your shared bedroom. He left in the morning without all of his usual routines— his 30-minute guided meditation, his good luck kiss from you.) 

The fight— God, what was the fight even about? Minghao is embarrassed to admit he can barely remember. 

By the way you’re looking at him, though, it looks like you’re also ready to put it past the two of you. 

“Did you watch?” he asks. 

The corners of your lips twitch upward. “What’s the right answer?” you shoot back, half-teasing as Minghao’s arms gingerly wrap around your waist. 

“I think I’d prefer that you say ‘no’,” he says wryly. “I was a monster out there. I’ve got so many people to apologize to.” 

You give a low hum of approval. Minghao tugs you into his space until he can bury his face in the top of your head.

For a moment, the two of you bask in the aftermath. The bittersweet race, the shaky reconciliation. Minghao breaks the silence. 

“I said fuck,” he mumbles, horrified, “on the radio.” 

“You did,” you confirm. “Twice, actually.” 

Minghao groans. “And at the press conference—” 

“You told the FIA they could take it up their a—” 

“I did not,” your boyfriend says shrilly, “say that!” 

You break out into giggles. Minghao can’t help it; his arms tighten around you, and he holds you like he’s trying to erase the past 24 hours through touch alone. 

Tomorrow, Minghao will be back to his usual self. He’ll play the PR game— waxing poetics about mental pressure, apologizing to the FIA for his conduct. He’ll pay the fines and promise to do better, be better. 

Tonight, Minghao softens all his edges and loves you. 

[studioeisa]

im here to harrow you.

thinking about f1 minghao crashing out on radio…. idk why… its burned in my mind…

crash and burn 📟 minghao x reader.

★ mercedes driver!minghao x reader ┆ word count: 1.8k ┆ includes: profanity, slight Trivia 承: Love reference. ┆ footnotes: oh, you are CRUEL for preying on my hyperfixation like this. how i ended up writing this much is anybody's guess.

For a moment, the entirety of Mercedes falls quiet.

You could hear a pin drop. The pit wall, the operations room, the garage. Deathly silent. 

Xu Minghao never swore on the radio. 

He could have. He’s certainly had his fair share of instances where a cuss or two would have been acceptable. The time he crashed into Williams’ Vernon on the final lap of the Australian Grand Prix, for example. Or the Singapore race where he ended up in the barriers after battling his teammate, Wonwoo, for podium position. 

Minghao hadn’t cussed then. Everybody liked to joke that his face often did the talking for him— his expressions post-race landing him on the front page of every sports media outlet. 

The Chinese racer was calm, cool, and collected under pressure. Critical without being cruel. Demanding without being demeaning. 

And yet, today, in Monaco— 

“Why do I have the penalty?” Minghao screeches, his voice crackling over the radio. “Hello?”

“Track limits, turn nine,” his race engineer says, voice carefully measured.

“You’re kidding!” Minghao downshifts aggressively as he rounds the next corner. The tires wail, the car jolts, and the telemetry lights up with data that makes the pit wall wince. “I stayed within the white line! You saw it, everyone saw it!” 

The pit wall scrambles. Engineers replay the footage frame by frame, dissecting every pixel of the contentious corner. The commentators speculate wildly, cameras cutting to Minghao’s onboard view. Sky Sports plays the radio message on repeat, the words for fuck’s sake! echoing through living rooms worldwide.

But Minghao doesn't care about the broadcast. Doesn't care about the headlines already being written. His pulse hammers, hands locked around the steering wheel like a vice.

“Box this lap, Hao. Serve the penalty,” the team calls. “Then push. We can still fight for points.”

Minghao murmurs something incoherent, though it doesn’t take a genius to guess that it’s probably another curse. He lifts off the throttle, coasts through the last sector, and dives into the pit lane. The Mercedes crew swarms the car, stoic and efficient, every second ticking down with excruciating slowness. 

The lollipop stays down.

Ten seconds feel like an eternity.

Minghao slams the throttle as soon as he’s released, launching back onto the track with a cloud of tire smoke.

“Gap to P10?” he demands, his tone unusually biting. 

“7.3 seconds to Boo. But DRS is enabled—” 

“I can catch him,” Minghao decides on his engineer’s behalf. 

Nobody doubts it, really. 

Minghao takes the next lap like a man possessed. Nailing apexes, brushing curbs, deploying battery in the perfect spots. Purple sector times flash on the screen; the crowd roars as he slices through the field like a scalpel.

Clean. Precise. Ruthless. 

Minghao pushes right past Alpine’s Seungkwan, who screeches into his own radio about this reckless man, trying to kill him with the way he faked to the outside. It doesn’t matter to Minghao. Not when he’s through. 

“P10, Hao,” his engineer says, relief bleeding into his voice. “Keep it up.” 

“Don’t—” Minghao cuts himself off. Everybody can more or less guess what he was about to say. Don’t tell me what to do, he had planned to snap, and it only drives the team into a deeper state of confusion. 

It’s even worse in the press room. 

Minghao sits in the middle, flanked by Aston Martin’s Seokmin and Red Bull’s Jihoon. Minghao’s Mercedes suit is still speckled with sweat, and his jaw is tight, hands clasped in front of him on the table.

The moderator introduces them. “We’ll start with questions for the drivers. First, to Mercedes’ Xu Minghao. P9 after serving a 10-second penalty. Can you walk us through your race?” 

A muscle in Minghao’s jaw ticks. Not a good sign.

Minghao leans into the microphone and very simply states, “It was bullshit.” 

Again, that stunned silence. Seokmin balks like he had been physically struck. Jihoon fights back a grin. 

The moderator blinks. “Uh,” she stammers. “Could you elaborate on that?” 

“The penalty,” Minghao says plainly. “It was bullshit. I’ve seen the footage. I stayed within track limits. And even if I hadn’t, we both know there were other drivers exceeding limits all race who didn’t get penalized.” 

A reporter from BBC Radio pipes up. “You’ve been known for keeping a cool head in difficult situations, but we heard your radio messages. Do you regret your reaction?” 

The question draws a humorless laugh from Minghao. Today, his wit is razor-like in its sharpness. The claws are out, so to speak, as Minghao answers the query. 

“Regret? No. I regret not pushing harder after the penalty. I lost ten seconds and still clawed my way back to points.” He pauses, letting the fact sink in. “What does that tell you?”

Somebody from Fox Sports pushes the envelope. “Are you implying bias in the stewarding?” the journalist calls out. 

Minghao’s eyes flash, making even the most fearless of the media personnel shrink back a bit. 

“I’m saying there needs to be consistency,” he hisses. “That’s all.” 

Mercedes’ PR manager shifts uncomfortably in the background; one can assume they’re already drafting damage control statements in their head. The list of people to apologize to only grows when a ballsy ESPN journo dares to ask, “Do you think this will affect your relationship with the FIA?” 

There’s no reason for the FIA— the Formula One’s governing body— to be dragged into this. Or maybe there is, with the way Minghao is crashing out in public. 

The racer smiles coldly. “Maybe,” he answers, “but I’m not here to make friends.” 

“Okay,” the moderator interjects. “I think it’s time for us to move on—” 

Minghao concedes, leaning back into his chair and pushing the microphone over to Jihoon. There’s the slightest of miscalculations, though, when Minghao grumbles something to the Red Bull driver.

The microphone catches Minghao’s snide side comment, supposedly meant solely for Jihoon’s ears. “You should ask the FIA why they’re so scared of drivers who fight back,” the Chinese driver huffs. 

The room explodes. Minghao doesn’t flinch. 

Mercedes’ PR manager accepts that it’s going to be a long, long night. 

Even Wonwoo doesn’t have an answer for his co-driver’s uncharacteristic behavior. The driver frowns when the team principal brings it up. 

Wonwoo runs a hand through his dark, sweat-slicked hair, as if reviewing what he witnessed pre- and post-race. “Hao was already a bit… off when he came in this morning,” Wonwoo admits. “Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something.” 

“Drivers like Minghao don’t just wake up one morning and decide they’re going to be the devil reincarnated,” the team principal says tentatively. 

Wonwoo takes a moment to contemplate. “Trouble in paradise, maybe?” 

“Drivers like Minghao—” 

“Don’t let their personal lives affect their racing,” Wonwoo finishes before waving his hand dismissively. “Well, I don’t know, then.” 

Except— for once— Wonwoo is right. 

The team doesn't press Minghao to celebrate, not when he’s a walking PR disaster in a foul mood. He heads straight back to his apartment, shedding all his rage on the way home. 

It’s the only reason he manages to gently open the front door. He toes off his shoes at the doorway and shrugs off his hoodie, each action deliberate in its intent and slowness.

He finds you in the kitchen.

You’re seated at one of the bar stools, forearms leaning against the island. Minghao doesn’t come close. Not at first. He lingers a couple of steps away, stock still as the two of you lock gazes. 

You open your mouth. Minghao beats you to the punch line. 

“I know,” he says, his voice the most gentle it’s been the entire day. “Trust me, I know.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you off.” 

Minghao lets out a derisive snort of laughter, though he’s quick to look chastised when he catches the shift in your expression. “Alright,” he says tiredly. “What were you going to say, then?” 

You hop off the stool. Minghao holds his breath. 

He still feels like he isn’t breathing by the time you’re standing right in front of him. Where others might hesitate, you don’t. 

Your hand reaches up to cup Minghao’s face. Your palm is warm against his cheek, but your words are much warmer. 

“I was going to apologize,” you say slowly, enunciating each word, “for breaking rule number three.” 

Rule number three. To have it brought up now is comedic. Minghao thinks of the restaurant tissue framed in the living room, the one bearing the silly list the two of you had jotted down when you first started dating. 

The very rule you’re referring to right now had been in Minghao’s loopy handwriting, underlined twice to emphasize its importance. 

#3: No fights on race weekends. 

It had come with an asterisk, a couple of caveats. Still, it was one of those ‘rules’ the two of you tried to see through the most. For not only Minghao’s sanity, but Mercedes’ as well. 

Minghao sighs, the tension in his shoulders easing with the heavy exhale. He can’t help it; his cheek nuzzles into your palm, seeking the familiarity of your touch after being without it last night. 

(That was his choice, admittedly, after he opted to sleep in the guest room instead of your shared bedroom. He left in the morning without all of his usual routines— his 30-minute guided meditation, his good luck kiss from you.) 

The fight— God, what was the fight even about? Minghao is embarrassed to admit he can barely remember. 

By the way you’re looking at him, though, it looks like you’re also ready to put it past the two of you. 

“Did you watch?” he asks. 

The corners of your lips twitch upward. “What’s the right answer?” you shoot back, half-teasing as Minghao’s arms gingerly wrap around your waist. 

“I think I’d prefer that you say ‘no’,” he says wryly. “I was a monster out there. I’ve got so many people to apologize to.” 

You give a low hum of approval. Minghao tugs you into his space until he can bury his face in the top of your head.

For a moment, the two of you bask in the aftermath. The bittersweet race, the shaky reconciliation. Minghao breaks the silence. 

“I said fuck,” he mumbles, horrified, “on the radio.” 

“You did,” you confirm. “Twice, actually.” 

Minghao groans. “And at the press conference—” 

“You told the FIA they could take it up their a—” 

“I did not,” your boyfriend says shrilly, “say that!” 

You break out into giggles. Minghao can’t help it; his arms tighten around you, and he holds you like he’s trying to erase the past 24 hours through touch alone. 

Tomorrow, Minghao will be back to his usual self. He’ll play the PR game— waxing poetics about mental pressure, apologizing to the FIA for his conduct. He’ll pay the fines and promise to do better, be better. 

Tonight, Minghao softens all his edges and loves you. 

[mydayserenade]

Eternal Sunshine

synopsis: yunho lives a quaint but pleasing life with his one and only confidant, san. the sun has always been a emblem of their love for one another, the start of something new... or so yunho thought.

yunho x san

TW: mentions of death and blood, tackles a little bit on psychological matters (voices in head, delirium, mental manipulation), swearing

a/n: hi everyone! kay here! this will be my first fic ever since i took a break from writing (i'm gonna give you the same reasons anyways as to why i've been allowing this account to collect dust, so no need for a lengthy discussion on that) so please go easy on me as i am currently working on my momentum as well as completely shake off the writer's block in me. admittedly, i have been having difficulties picking up inspirations, plots or even a smidge of an idea to create a whole fic so its a godsent that i was able to form this. so please, do enjoy :) and thank you for your patience <3

please DO NOT REPOST on other sites unless credits will be indicated.

this is simply a work of fiction.

"You think it's feasible for us to live together soon?"

"Not really... Is that a bad thing?"

Yunho looks intently at the boy beside him who had answered his question in a nonchalant tone-- it was clear that Yunho's significant other had already thought of the answer to such a staple question. A deck in the index cards that couples would often bring up.

"You obviously have some nerve to say that." Yunho replies with distaste. San scooches near him to swoon him over with his cutesy mannerisms and sweet apologies. Though Yunho made it clear that he was clearly unamused by what he has heard, looking at the eye-smile and prominent dimples pleading him for forgiveness was enough to take the bait.

As he felt the need to explain his answer to avoid creating a storm, San gently lands his hand on top of Yunho's. "It's not that I don't want to..." San treaded carefully. "I just don't think we're ready to head that next part in our books." Yunho lets out an exasperated sigh to such a bleak answer.

"What is it? Is it because I'm too much of a clean-freak?"

"No, not really."

"Then what Choi San? Give me one good reason as to why you think you can't move in yet."

San moves an inch away from Yunho as he felt the smoldering glare daggering at him burn in his soul. As much as he wanted to say an answer, he couldn't. He shouldn't.

"C'mon Yunho, let's head on out to the shore." San offers a hand out to Yunho as he stood from his place.

"You're avoiding my question again."

"Just please. Stand up and let's look at the sunset together." San said sternly, to which Yunho couldn't do anything but oblige to it.

As the couple walked down the granular terrain, the sea breeze and golden rays welcomed them to their Cloud nine. It was no doubt that their happiness relied on the beauty of the sun, all their doubts and worries would often simmer and dissipate thanks to the long hours of just staring at the orange sky. The sun was their great escape, a key to their hearts, a symbol of their love and how it began.

"After this, we are definitely gonna need to talk." Yunho breaks the silence shared between the two as they stopped in their tracks to appreciate nature's calling.

"You know how to definitely swoon me over. I love you and fucking hate you for that."

San chuckles in amusement to hear Yunho's comment. "You're welcome for that."

As the two gaze at the sun readying itself to give the moon her morning, Yunho's attention lies in the sea as he watches two turtles making ashore.

"San, San you've got to see this!" Yunho excitedly calls out his beloved while keeping his eyes on the two shelled friends. However, no response can be heard.

"Choi San did you not hear me?" Yunho pulls himself out of his gaze to turn to San who was silent as a rock.

Beside the space that was once invaded by a man dressed to the nines, was a disheveled and limp body all dressed and coated in crimson. His eyes were opened, looking directly at Yunho and blood was starting to coagulate the sand that is underneath the body.

"S-s.. San...? SAN? CHOI SAN." All Yunho could do was scream and shout his name as he watched his lover turn into a decomposing mess in a blink of an eye. Yunho immediately wipes off with his bare hands the blood masking the entirety of San's body.

"San, San, San!!!" Yunho grieves out and growls in pain, embracing the corpse of his lover. As he wailed and pleaded for supernatural deities to accept his offers, the whole sky surrounding the crisp beach suddenly turns black. No emitting light to rescue their momentary blindness, no stars in the sky to lead them the way, no moon to serve. It was just a pitch dark, and black environment.

"What the fuck is going on." Was all Yunho could make out of this moment, still holding onto San in his tight grasp. As he tried and make his way to a safe spot; a wall meets his body as he slams against it and falls back loudly in return.

"This isn't fucking funny, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" Yunho feels around the encapsulated area around him. Black vinyl panels completely covering the four walls locking him in. He wasn't sure what kind of trip he was on, but the only thing mattered to him was getting San to where he needed to be.

"That's just a dummy you dumb fuck." A high-pitched whisper perks up Yunho's ear.

Yunho looks down to where he was holding San. From a body, it quickly switched to a ragdoll. Yunho threw it across the room aggressively and bangs on the walls to garner anyone's attention.

"WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU TAKE SAN."

"You're baby Sannie's long gone, and it's all because of you." Another voice enters.

"YOU PIECES OF SHIT. YOU ARE THE REASON FOR HIM. SHOW YOURSELF YOU FUCKING COWARDS." Yunho continues to bang on the walls as the voices grew louder.

"You can't see us, we are just the mere voices in your head." The shrieks of the unknown voices get louder as Yunho tries to shield them out by covering his ears. "Don't you feel an ounce of guilt for what happened to your lover? The one you made to suffer?"

"Guilt? What fucking guilt?"

"Exactly. You had none of it." The voices shouted in anger by which Yunho took to heart.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!"

Punches and bangs were repeated as Yunho tried to single out the voices as it became more prominent and bigger than ever. As he wept and punched and banged, a digitalized alarm clock suddenly appears itself out of thin air. Yunho pauses as he was caught off guard by the blaring green light that the clock had emitted.

"11:59 P.M?" Yunho picks up the clock to look at it in detail, but before he could make out what was presented in front of him-- abyss meets his vision and gravity becomes his enemy; all the while an ear-piercing tone of the clock echoes throughout the empty space, resonating its signal that it has made it to 12:00.

Yunho suddenly wakes and jumps out to what felt like an eternity of falling. He confusedly looks around the environment that he is in. White wooden panels, fitted sheets, and the smell of breakfast. But before he could make any sense of what had manifested, a familiar face greets him in the entry way.

Yunho takes shallow breaths before making out his words.

"S... Sa... San?"

[mydayserenade]

- something along the lines of...

- synopsis: hongjoong had always been adamant in resisting his friend, park seonghwa, from partaking and going even further in his experimentations. as if life for seonghwa wasn’t a whole land of purgatory, will his inner demons bring out the best or the worst in him one fearful night?

- seonghwa x hongjoong

- tw: blood, hallucinations, cursing, mentions of operational procedures

- horror, thriller, muderous muderous friends

- word count: 1.4k

- a/n: so yes i am back after nth months of indefinite ghosting and completely forgetting this account even existed due to my lack of commitment with my hobbies but ANYWAYS, that is another discussion for another day. i can't even describe to begin how much i had been itching to write something before the year ended but here we are with a seongjoong horror themed one, perfect for the spoopy month! now, im not gonna promise anything in terms of uploading regularly (although i dont think many of you could give two fucks) but i will still be posting stuff seldomly if writers block will not become my enemy for the months to come. though i feel like i can kinda be back in my writing element, time is the biggest constraint for me in pumping out ideas and fics hence why i have been ia and unmotivated to post... until today (which is kinda odd ngl but ik it wont last forever). enough of the jibber-jabber, please enjoy my unplanned october special featuring our very lovely seongjoong :) see u all soonest!

*all credits goes to the images used

*the views, themes and dialogue does not reflect the belief and/or influence of the artists mentioned below and of the writer.

*please DO NOT repost on other sites unless you have given credits to the original writer.

“Has the patient been experiencing any side-effects?” A faint and shallow voice echoes throughout the clean, white halls. “No sir, amazing to see how our test subject can withstand even the highest of frequencies.” 

The nurse pleasingly announced. “It’s only a matter of time until we can actually start Project Siren on him to fully seal the deal with Ember Corp.” She enthusiastically added, with the squeaky wheels from the mobile hospital bed loudly agreeing. “Aren’t we too ahead of ourselves, dear?” Doctor Kim paused as he leaned over towards the nurse’s eye level and kept a steady but threatful glare. As she was trembling in fear, Doctor Kim leaned back and put his hand delicately on her shoulder. Composing her while asking her subtly to leave. “You are most certainly right Doctor, apologies for my immature behavior”. As she bows her head and Doctor Kim copying it, the nurse heads off the north wing of the facility-- leaving Doctor Kim and the occupied hospital bed all alone.

“Well, Mr. Park. Shall I roll you right back into your room?” Hongjoong pitched but no one was of answer, he heaved a heavy sigh and took course heading towards his main office with his patient. 

A muffled voice and multiple blinding haze of lights had woken up Seonghwa’s senses as he gradually got back into his conscious state. But before he could even theorize on his own about where he was, Hongjoong was sitting across him in his leather office chair; watching Seonghwa slowly recoup and get to his bearings. 

"Hongjoong? Wh-whe... Where are we?"

"Its DOCTOR Hongjoong mind you, and we are in my office; perfectly designed by yours truly."

Seonghwa shakes off the weariness in his head, clearly in distraught after 5 anxious hours of being knocked out. Hongjoong stands up from his chair and makes his way towards the side of Seonghwa's bed; keeping a safe distance to avoid any complications and sudden raptures that Seonghwa may present.

"Are you feeling better?" Hongjoong asks calmly. "I've experienced worse." Seonghwa replies with shallow breaths.

"You don't have to keep doing this Seonghwa. I told you, I'm more than willing to help you get back on your feet."

"Over my dead body would I treat you like an ATM."

Seonghwa's resistant tone and jaw clenching was enough for Hongjoong to entirely change the subject; even if he would like to prolong the conversation and plead for him to stop going through these sessions, both of them would just end up with cursing each other out-- something Hongjoong never attests to.

"So what happens now? Do I get to finally leave the facility?" 

Hongjoong was adamant to let a word out of his mouth, he already had known that Seonghwa would not be able to leave this place immediately; not in due time at least. Seonghwa notices the sudden gloom in the eyes of the doctor, “Uh-oh, this isn’t good”.

He finally takes the courage to speak. "I'm afraid not in the near future, the company is still ordering for a few more trial runs before I can let you go." Seonghwa suddenly lifts his head up, eyebrows knitted and rapid impulses of rage race through the chambers of his mind.

"You're fucking with me." Never had he been more infuriated at the way things were going. All of his life was he berated of things he wasn’t coming into terms with, he had already accepted his faith being the unlucky duckling in his family. He accepted defeat and disownment like no other prideful being could ever do. But this? This was more than just cursing out, this was betrayal-- this was unacceptable in his books. He was promised 15 sessions only, a shit ton of money; he was promised to be out of this hell hole immediately. 

"I thought we were already done with the 15 sessions?" A chilling growl rumbles down deep into Seonghwa’s chest, he was seeing red like a crimson tide crashing into his hindsight. Hongjoong couldn’t bear the sight of his friend all wired up and weary, but as much as he persuaded for him to stop Seonghwa from doing this all arguments would lead to nothing.

"I thought so too." Hongjoong replied as he crossed his arms, firming his stance in case Seonghwa would ever come at him. Carefully he stands closer to him, but he clearly wasn’t having none of Hongjoong’s gentle sympathy. "I'm sorry Seonghwa, these are orders from the board. You haven't been showing any signs of improvement-- you know how resilient and ugly these people can be when things don't go accordingly as planned." All could Seonghwa do was scowl at the sight of Hongjoong, he clearly had no energy within him to even throw the nearby glass of water on his bedside neither scream at the top of his lungs.

Silence filled the eerie void of Hongjoong’s office, no one was in their element to start a ruckus-- not even Seonghwa who could barely move an inch. After what felt like hours standing in the middle of nowhere, a sharp ringing blasts the entire room and perks up Hongjoong’s ear. With a hand gesture signaling Seonghwa to give him a few minutes, he leaves the chilly room, leaving Seonghwa all by himself.

In a fit of rage inside his head, a multitude of curses flew out of his mouth while clenching the white sheets delicately placed on top of him. As he continues to verbally bring out his anger, a throbbing and excruciating pain hovering all over his head brings out the worst in Seonghwa. He couldn’t get up by himself, Hongjoong wasn’t anywhere near him, all he could do was cry and curl up in a ball until the pain would miraculously disappear. Until visions of blood, slaughter and the whispering winds of the distress embraces him, Seonghwa ultimately stops from his cry of pain. The whimpers paused, everything felt so dense around him and his conscience was nowhere to be found. Seonghwa feels a moist, seeping spot on his blanket. As he reaches for the tissue box near him, his mouth opens agape to the sight being reflected at the monitor in front of him.

Why was he crying blood?

[southslates]

another day in which i'm forced to wonder how anyone could think oma and shu isn't a zutara parallel... two lovers torn apart and unable to find happiness due to belonging to two different tribes... it's so sad. animation is a visual language and look at these two scenes. to claim they were not drawn like this on purpose is denial

zuko and katara are wearing the same colors and oma holds a red branch like zuko's fire, they are standing in a cave the same color as the crystal catacombs, like it's been said over and over again, but wow, how can anyone not see this as romantic coding

[southslates]

i will never, ever stop believing that they were meant to be. they're fire and water and the sun and the moon and so equally passionate and resilient and hardworking and they deserved to fall in love, and even if they didn't they're still soulmates i just

[illycanary]

There are so many things here. That first shot: an actual, honest to goodness, Mat Cauthon style proposal.

Second frame: “You rise with the moon; I rise with the sun.” Twi and La. Yin and Yang.

Fourth frame: SECRET TUNNEL!!! Secret, secret, secret, secret tunnel of loverswithfrigginglowingcrystalsdon’ttellmethey’renotOmaandShureuncarnated!!!

Frame five: Their bending styles have completely altered to mirror one another. The symmetry. The infinity loops. They’re so equal and balanced and perfectly matched.

The Southern Raiders. The Southern Raiders. Do I even need to talk about the Southern Raiders and all that bucket of worms one more time?

He sleeps on his right side. His vision and hearing are very likely compromised in the burned (left) side. It’s a continual pattern throughout the series that he only sleeps with his good ear to the ground when he feels very safe.

Finally: He gave everything for her. His life. His nation’s only shot a peaceful future. His life for hers in an instant without even thinking about it. No question. He knew she couldn’t save him the way she had done for Aang. He knew he wasn’t coming back from that hit. In all their interactions after the caves under Ba Sing Se, he never does a single thing in his own self interest where Katara’s concerned. It’s always about her needs and her wants.

[southslates]

it's always i love you and never *takes lightning for you*

[mydayserenade]

i swear i am cooking up on something delicious and scrumptious for a fic, pls bear with my very slooooow ass.

[mydayserenade]

yes i watch atla and yes, i am a huge zutarian. no ifs or buts, this is my stand and my number one otp; so if you disagree kindly go off my page. tysm

[southslates]

i love that zuko betrays katara. i love that they fight and that there's so much tension between the two of them before she forgives him in tsr because that betrayal is so powerful, and katara wouldn't have cared so much about zuko joining azula unless she had truly felt emotionally destroyed by how he had turned his back on her. it's easy for sokka and toph and even somewhat aang to forgive zuko & i love that it's hard for katara because it means that zuko means something to her, that he had truly become something more than an enemy to her under ba sing se. it makes her forgiveness so powerful, it means that there is so much depth to explore there.

i would kill for a reveal of their full conversation in the crystal catacombs & to know what more made her hurt so much.

[mydayserenade]

exactly what was on my mind. some may think that katara was being too irrational and/or annoying with how she was acting towards zuko when half of the gaang had forgiven him, but we all must remember that katara is a very empathetic person who gives importance and concern to the feelings/emotions one may have around her. to witness someone she had thought to be protagonistic betray and shatter her vision, completely destroying all her sentiments and sympathy towards him just broke her heart. and thats why she held such resentment to him for so long because zuko, who had shared a deep moment with her out of his own will, was that someone who completely broke everything she had thought about him.

(this is not kpop related folks, im just a big sucker for zutara okay?)

[mydayserenade]

- snapshoot

synopsis: when hongjoong had failed many times in his life trying to capture memories around him through his camera, one stranger will make his dream turn slowly into a reality.

hongjoong x oc

genre: fluff, romance, slight gut punching sadness (?), slight angst (?),

word count: 941

warnings: swearing, mentions of memory loss

a/n: surprise muthafuckas, im BAAAACK! did you all miss me? (probably not, its okay though 🥰 no hard feelings) it has been a hot minute since i have been writing smth, a lot was going on (acads wise) for me to sneak this in my sched but fortunately enough i now have the energy to write again! woohoo! just a little backstory with this fic; originally i wanted to post more of a horror, mysterious, thriller type fic w/ hongjoong in it but then after listening to So Tender on loop thanks to Nevertheless, my sleep deprived brain had come up with a plot that was based on the vibes of this song and so came my brain child which is this 😉... so um yeah, enjoy reading a slightly angsty joong with his baby film camera ❤️ and hi again 

"You're a dickhead" "What's with that camera, weirdo?" "This guy probably got some demon inside of him to latch onto that old thing." "Asshole."

Hongjoong aggressively gets out of bed after the overlapping voices that constantly bombarded his mind. Old movie posters, off-white sheets, magazine cut-outs scattered on the wooden floor; yup he is definitely not dreaming he assured himself. He leans near his bedside to check the time on his phone; 7:30 A.M, still enough time to sleep. He plops back onto his position and stares dully at the blank space before drifting off into the abyss.

Alarm goes off, its 11:30. Hongjoong groans as the high-pitched shrieking of the ringtone resonates throughout the entire room. He grabs the phone to turn-off the alarm and after a few lazy attempts, he finally jumps out of bed. As he dragged his feet along the hall, the welcoming aroma of sausages and noodles wafting through the air instantly woke up Hongjoong's spirit as he neared the starting point of the savory smell. "There goes our number one champ, how did dreamland do for you today?" A chirpy voice welcomes the disgruntled Hongjoong in the kitchen while his back was turned and focused on the pan. "Same shit, different day." He replied with distaste. Wooyoung then swiftly flips the sausages and serves them up in the counter with a smile, signaling Hongjoong to eat up.

"Are you sure you don't wanna join with me and San? Hiking can do a lot to ease your mind." "Thanks, but I don't think hiking's enough to really fix something so complex as to what I am experiencing; besides, I'll just be a third-wheel to you both anyways so why bother joining in?" A sarcastic grin and two middle fingers standing strongly were enough for Hongjoong to shut up and keep his distance away from Wooyoung exploding. Hongjoong grabs out of his pocket a mini film camera; or as something he would call an "invaluable value". He props his elbows on the counter to get an eye-level shot of Wooyoung eating across the table and with a swift press of a button, the shutter goes off.

"Still got nothing?" Wooyoung asks concerningly, Hongjoong shakes his head in disappointment. Wooyoung clicks his tongue as he saw his friend fiddle around the camera while leaving the deepest sigh in the room. "It doesn't make sense to me, I'm literally the only person in this room who you trust more than yourself. And yet not even a single, simple moment can be captured?" "I've been asking that same question for more than a year Wooyoung, you think that I would have the fucking answer by now?" Hongjoong grits his teeth in annoyance. "If I did then I wouldn't rely on this stupid device to help me remember my family members, let alone what relationship I have with them." Wooyoung softens his posture as he watches Hongjoong slowly submerge in his emotions. As he tries to calm him down, Hongjoong gets up firmly and storms towards his room.

A few hours after the breakfast incident, Hongjoong gets out of the shower and ready himself for today's errands. "Already gone out with San, coming home around 9ish. Food's there in the fridge, just heat em up in the oven. Sorry for what happened in the kitchen, will make it up to you when you get back :)" Hongjoong scoffs at his roommate's note pasted on his door. "I'm sorry too for lashing out, I'll make it up to you." Hongjoong said in his mind as he proceeded to get dressed and head on out. Camera slung over his neck and a plastered smile, he heads on out to the busy city to begin his daily hustle.

Blaring sounds of car honks and rampant voices with colorful tones greeted Hongjoong as he walked towards the main building of his office; the hell-hole as he would like to refer to it. As Hongjoong takes a gander in the freezing lobby waiting for the elevator to come, he takes a look-see outside the window to lessen his boredom. From then he saw an old-time couple on the sidewalk, sharing an ice-cream cone and giggling like they were in their glory days. Hongjoong took out his film camera to try and attempt if he could capture such a sweet moment but before he could even take the perfect shot, he was greeted by a body slam of a young woman who just got out of the elevator who was seemingly rushing. “Oh my God, I am so sorry sir.” The lady helped Hongjoong get up and dusted off his camera. Hongjoong was enraged by this woman’s carelessness, but before he could even open his mouth to give her a good lecture she had already vanished. As Hongjoong cursed her out in his brain, he frantically viewed his camera to check its condition and if the lady stole any of his SD’s cards--- like there’s even something in them.

But there was.

It wasn’t the merry old couple he wanted to take a shot of, no not at all. But it was the blurry, candid shot of his encounter with the woman. With streaks of blurred colors and motions that only the lens could make sense of the situation. Hongjoong was appalled, never in the course of his time would his camera pick up a distinct memory to help him remember; not even his own birthday. He zooms in even more to try and take a good look into this woman but no visible figure could be found.

“Who the fuck are you?”

[mydayserenade]

not @ me editing a shit ton in my latest fic cause apparently tumblr likes to jeopardize my posts

[mydayserenade]

- Janus

Can paradise leave a sweet feeling or a bad taste to the mouth?

- wooyoung x seonghwa

- synopsis - a renegade cop takes a break from an endless chase with his psychiatrist friend in the mountains, as both stir up a conversation about the ongoing case of a murderous rampage. wooyoung discovers bit by bit on what sins had this doctor committed. one that could change his life forever.

- word count: 3.9k

- genre: horror, thriller, psycho, batshit crazy spooky goodness

- warnings: guns, swearing, knives, violence, animal hunting, alcohol, mentions of choking, slight mentions of death, psychopathic behavior, emotional and mental manipulation, mental abuse, anti-christ, slight mentions of anxiety, just… insane stuff

- author’s note: HAPPY NEW FEA- I MEAN YEAR EVERYONE! to start off the year right, why not welcome it with some good ol’ morbid shit featuring our two beautiful men! sorry to have kept you all waiting but yes i am back from the dead (for now)! i will try my best to compensate the drought seasons with some new fics to be created and released out in the open but sadly since school is starting again for me, i fear that i wouldn’t see you all or even write properly until my next sem break comes; but until then, here’s my “comeback” in the writing realm! super excited for you all to read this ❤️

absolutely no reposting please! and also do give author’s credit if you’re planning on translating the fic

*this is all purely based on fiction and does not reflect the views and thoughts of the characters, writer and life itself.

- song inspiration!

bang! one time, bang! two times.

“Oh my little coyote, you think you can outrun me with your weak limbs?” A smirk softly forms his lips as he swiftly points his rifle towards the hostile animal having a delight with the almost-devoured carcass in the center of the ominous forest; completely unaware that at his back, he is a running candidate for another triumphant trophy. As the coyote continued to feed off the lifeless body, taking its sweet time gnawing off the bits and pieces of flesh from the bones, reloading of ammunition echoes throughout the entirety of the field making the coyote lift its head up straight and panickily circle around his reign, searching if there was anyone out in the wilderness who was willing to steal his meal.

bang! A clean shot in the head brought the coyote to fall down to the ground ever so gracefully, making the person behind the trigger chuckle in amusement.

“Seonghwa I thought we were out here for a simple walk to the forest, not for hunting.” Wooyoung’s annoyance had interrupted his euphoric state of mind as he darted his eyes towards the place of voice, smirking out of spite. Seonghwa puts down his rifle and swings it at the back of his shoulders as he approaches Wooyoung, leaving his victim lying lifelessly on the ground waiting for eligible predators to feed off the poor guy.

“Anything planned for tonight?” Seonghwa wipes his lips at the back of his hand after taking a chug of the canned beer Wooyoung had packed for their trip. He lightly shrugs his shoulders as he takes a seat near a boulder, staring off into the dimmed and moist forest that was laced with white fog. It had been months since Wooyoung had a decent and quiet vacation, working off the graveyard shift as a rookie investigator, clearly unamused by the department he is under on. It has been months since the bloody rampage of the copycat killer had started, yet the progress of this case has been slower than ever; almost as if they’ve purposefully left it cold and dusted. But it was the weekend nonetheless he thought, and though having the will to work during off office hours, he had no other choice but to spend his day well due to the fact that no one was to be seen in the office. Let alone the whole building.

Keep reading

[xdead-by-moonlight]

Y'ALL GO SUPPORT MY BESTIE

[mydayserenade]

yooooo wtf :( ur so sweet

[mydayserenade]

- Janus

Can paradise leave a sweet feeling or a bad taste to the mouth?

- wooyoung x seonghwa

- synopsis - a renegade cop takes a break from an endless chase with his psychiatrist friend in the mountains, as both stir up a conversation about the ongoing case of a murderous rampage. wooyoung discovers bit by bit on what sins had this doctor committed. one that could change his life forever.

- word count: 3.9k

- genre: horror, thriller, psycho, batshit crazy spooky goodness

- warnings: guns, swearing, knives, violence, animal hunting, alcohol, mentions of choking, slight mentions of death, psychopathic behavior, emotional and mental manipulation, mental abuse, anti-christ, slight mentions of anxiety, just... insane stuff

- author's note: HAPPY NEW FEA- I MEAN YEAR EVERYONE! to start off the year right, why not welcome it with some good ol' morbid shit featuring our two beautiful men! sorry to have kept you all waiting but yes i am back from the dead (for now)! i will try my best to compensate the drought seasons with some new fics to be created and released out in the open but sadly since school is starting again for me, i fear that i will not see you all or even write properly until my next sem break comes; but until then, here's my "comeback" in the writing realm! super excited for you all to read this ❤️

absolutely no reposting please! and also do give author's credit if you're planning on translating the fic

*this is all purely based on fiction and does not reflect the views and thoughts of the characters, writer and life itself.

- fic inspiration!

bang! one time, bang! two times.

"Oh my little coyote, you think you can outrun me with your weak limbs?" A smirk softly forms his lips as he swiftly points his rifle towards the hostile animal having a delight with the almost-devoured carcass in the center of the ominous forest; completely unaware that at his back, he is a running candidate for another triumphant trophy. As the coyote continued to feed off the lifeless body, taking its sweet time gnawing off the bits and pieces of flesh from the bones, reloading of ammunition echoes throughout the entirety of the field making the coyote lift its head up straight and panickily circle around his reign, searching if there was anyone out in the wilderness who was willing to steal his meal.

bang! A clean shot in the head brought the coyote to fall down to the ground ever so gracefully, making the person behind the trigger chuckle in amusement.

"Seonghwa I thought we were out here for a simple walk to the forest, not for hunting." Wooyoung's annoyance had interrupted his euphoric state of mind as he darted his eyes towards the place of voice, smirking out of spite. Seonghwa puts down his rifle and swings it at the back of his shoulders as he approaches Wooyoung, leaving his victim lying lifelessly on the ground waiting for eligible predators to feed off the poor guy.

"Anything planned for tonight?" Seonghwa wipes his lips at the back of his hand after taking a chug of the canned beer Wooyoung had packed for their trip. He lightly shrugs his shoulders as he takes a seat near a boulder, staring off into the dimmed and moist forest that was laced with white fog. It had been months since Wooyoung had a decent and quiet vacation, working off the graveyard shift as a rookie investigator, clearly unamused by the department he is under on. It has been months since the bloody rampage of the copycat killer had started, yet the progress of this case has been slower than ever; almost as if they've purposefully left it cold and dusted. But it was the weekend nonetheless he thought, and though having the will to work during off office hours, he had no other choice but to spend his day well due to the fact that no one was to be seen in the office. Let alone the whole building.

"Fuck" Wooyoung's exasperated gasp turns Seonghwa's attention as he was cleaning the tip of his rifle. "What is it?" he asked concerningly, no response given on the other side. "A penny for your thoughts?" Seonghwa asks again, only this time Wooyoung starts to speak.

"It's just everything going on. I mean, I shouldn't even be here with you, drinking and shooting some live animals while a killer is out on the loose, planning on his next motive for his victim's demise." Wooyoung couldn't help but feel guilt ride on him as he takes in the musky scent of pine that surrounds him. Seonghwa crosses his arms as he watched Wooyoung's eyes fixate on the ground, clearly not in the mood for any ruckus this trip may or may not adjourn.

"I have a confession to make." Seonghwa's deep and calming voice disturbs the heavy silence between these two men. Wooyoung lifts his head up in a haste and immediately stands up straight as he watches the doctor's chest take in a deep heave before uttering out another word to him. "Confession? What confession?" he politely asked.

"Well, since you have been a little bit on edge ever since we got out of the city and we're already on the topic of discussion." Seonghwa takes a sip of his cold brew as he tries not to break eye-contact with the rookie cop in front of him. "I have news that I am willing to spare for you to figure out, but first I would like to apologize for not saying this anytime sooner." Wooyoung's head tilts with his knitted eyebrows in full force as he had absolutely no clue on where this conversation was heading, all he could do was to gesture Seonghwa to continue on with his spiel and nod his head in accordance to his vague apology.

He sighs, and looks at Wooyoung dead in the eye as he speaks his words. "Your suspect has actually visited my office a few times already. He has been undergoing therapy ever since the last 5 murders." As these words left Seonghwa's lips one by one, all Wooyoung could focus on was the fact that the eligible killer had interaction, a physical encounter and a confidential one at that, with a person he knew and cared for deeply. A feeling of adrenaline rushes through his veins but the tension and anxiety his heart beats at a fast rate says otherwise. He stood blankly, clearly overwhelmed with everything that flew over his head. Blood rushing through his head, the sudden coldness of his hands and feet and a catatonic stance as he figures out in what move has to do next. Wooyoung proceeds to hastily clean up the ground site and jammed in every equipment and property of theirs at the back trunk, with Seonghwa trailing along to what he was doing. Soon enough the two boys got in the car and darted off into the wooden cabin where they were both staying in for the time being.

Wooyoung proceeds to storm into the living room immediately while Seonghwa was following along his footsteps, hands in his pockets as he watches him fumble on the marble counter-top to grab his pen and notepad. Seonghwa pauses as he watches Wooyoung plop loudly onto the bar stool, clenching his jaw as he vigorously takes down notes and swear under his breath. The corners of his mouth rise shyly and subtly squints his eyes as he watched his friend fret over and over again, almost losing balance on the chair. His amusement was put to a sudden end however when Wooyoung slapped the notepad onto the marble surface and pauses for a brief moment before growling softly, he then looks up at Seonghwa who had been leaning onto the other side of the countertop watching him from a safe distance.

"And you fail to mention that to me while I was on duty? DO YOU REALIZE HOW BIG OF A HELP THIS CAN BE?" Wooyoung exclaimed with clear annoyance prominent in his voice and as his veins started to pop out from his neck. He couldn't even look at his friend straight into the eye, someone he relied on the most, someone he considered as a partner in crime.

"A mind can only remember so much Wooyoung, I am deeply apologetic for the delayed information that could have been a great push of momentum for this case." Seonghwa's eyes slowly soften, clearly a sign of how guilty and fed-up he was at himself for his actions. He approaches the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of chilled Cabernet and two wine glasses and delicately lands it on the countertop, popping the bottle open and poured out a decent amount for both of them to intake. Seonghwa swirls around the crimson liquid before taking a small sip, gargling it in his mouth to feel the acidity and bitterness of one's vine. He then looks at Wooyoung who was also drinking the wine but still enraged and continued his train of thought. "I could perhaps relay to you the information I have obtained about this predator, but the law is the law. I'm afraid I cannot solicit help to you."

Wooyoung chuckles at the latter part of Seonghwa's sentence, this guy's a joke he said to himself. Why would he trail me along in such mystery and tension when it will eventually lead up to a dead end? Wooyoung thought. "Then why the fuck did you bring it up on the first place if you weren't gonna contribute anyways? This didn’t happen in the last two cases you were a part of." Wooyoung leans closer towards Seonghwa's face making sure he gets a clear look at how hot-headed he was at the moment. A smirk of disbelief emerges from Wooyoung's face as he was given no response towards the doctor other than the sounds of the swishing red liquid. "I thought you were better than this Seonghwa, after the many cases we've been working together and solved, with just one that you're out of, you immediately cut all connections with me? To the point wherein you're keeping deadly secrets hidden?" He sighs, resting his chin on his hand while staring intently at the young man’s body. "Seonghwa, as much as I wish to oblige to the rules of the medicinal world, we are dealing with something way worse than inhumanity. People, innocent beings, are dying right in front of our very own eyes and the sad part is that we cannot... we cannot even resolve this. The killer’s within our grasp, but we do not even have a single ounce of leads for us to say he is truly the one." Wooyoung takes a heavy sigh that echoed throughout the room they were both in, he hated this realization, knowing how close they were to the animal but so far to put him behind bars. Seonghwa listened carefully, watching each and every movement of Wooyoung like a meerkat "As much as I hate to break protocol... just please, let me in on this. You've been of great help towards our department, why can't you lend us a hand now after how many years?" He painfully asks as he tries to hold back in his tears, clearly in desperation to rightfully bring people the justice they deserve. Seonghwa knitted his eyebrows and pondered for a bit, taking his time drinking his wine before finally making a decision, He nods in agreement that made Wooyoung;s face immediately light up, as soon as he grabbed both his pen, paper and recorder; he proceeded to ask the very first question.

 "At around what date had he started seeing you?" He started off the conversation.

"Around two weeks after the abrupt stop of the killings... so around July 21st."

“How were you able to reach the suspect? Did you just happen to chance upon him or was he the one who approached you?”

“He approached me... He needed psychiatric help and so I gladly took him in, who doctor would pass on the opportunity of helping those in need?’ A sly smile forms on Seonghwa’s lips.

“Do you have any relationship with Reacher?” Wooyoung asks.

“An acquaintance, a friend of a friend.” Wooyoung pauses on his notes as he hears the latter part of Seonghwa’s sentence, he looks up at him who was also looking back, Wooyoung’s eyebrows knit and he minimally bit his lip before proceeding onto the interrogation. 

"Reacher, based on my records had no affiliation towards gangs, cults or anything of bad influence. He was a student with straight A's, was considered as the perfect son to many and was very much family-oriented and a likeable kid. So how would he end up killing people for his own personal gain if he had no possible motive in doing so?"

"I'm not so sure if your people were able to get traces or even take note of this, but Reacher had to eventually seek help." Seonghwa crosses his legs as he sat down on the bar stool and relaxingly lounges in it as if he had been conversing with an old friend. “He had been dealing with a lot of mental distress lately; though being the model student of his county brought him a lot of opportunities, I would've guessed it took a toll on him much worse than what people would've assumed."

“Did he ever had intentions in committing crimes? Even those that aren’t as heinous?” 

“None at all, he was a pretty innocent kid. Couldn’t even grasp at the idea of death.” Seonghwa crosses his arms as he watched Wooyoung jot down hastily over the information he was receiving.

“But then, after a few sessions in... he had started to have this crazy ideology of the afterlife. How one’s soul can never become an angel of God’s but a slave of His. We dived into this discussion for a few days and I believe that eventually landed onto some... menacing things.” A shiver was felt down his spine as he vividly remembered that session like it was yesterday, Seonghwa took a big gulp of the wine almost downing it to the last drop. Wooyoung was in awe at how much information he was receiving but he knew it was his duty to uncover more truths about this man... and even Seonghwa whom he started to question about his intentions.

“Did you give him any medication? Perhaps a prescription that was too strong of a dose for him to consume? Or something that could’ve tweaked his system?” Seonghwa freezes in his seat as Wooyoung had asked him this question. A shy smile appeared on his face with eyes shifting across the room as if he had been possessed, a moment of silence then loomed over between them while sharing the same tensed up air. Until eventually Wooyoung broke the silence, allowing Seonghwa to break out of his dazed state.

"Well...” Seonghwa coughs lightly. “I'll let you in on another confidential information.” With an eyebrow raise and a wink, Wooyoung then gestured him to continue on. "I've been using hypnosis therapy as a treatment, its a common practice many therapists use to calm the nerves of the patient. Mostly done with patients that are dealing with stress or anxiety which my patient has been going through."

“Hypnosis therapy? Couldn’t that be one of the reasons as to why he had started to act that way Doctor Park? I mean, from your previous statement it seems as if he was just solely struggling with peer pressure and unfair pinning. Don’t you think you have diagnosed him with the wrong treatment?”

“Believe me Wooyoung, after the countless practices I have done with this kind of method. Zero had been victims or lost causes of mine.” Seonghwa leans closer to Wooyoung with a sharp stare piercing right through his eyes, he then relaxes on his seat and scoffs. “Besides, Reacher was already beginning to show signs of violence. What more can I do to ensure that he won’t be on a bloody rampage on the streets of Seoul?” Wooyoung’s at the edge of his seat, clearly baffled at the obnoxious statement he had just heard. He thought to himself, “If he knew all along that his patient was in need of a more greater help and had the knowledge that he was the conflict of interest in this case, why didn’t he report it to the police? More so ask for actual help... unless if Seonghwa was holding him back from saying or doing something way worse that could get him killed.”

"If Reacher wasn't the original of the first 10 victims, that means he could probably be a copycat killer...” Wooyoung starts to review on his notes, creating a map to connect the evidences and form a conclusion that can be released to the department. “Maybe due to his instability, his reality was distorted, not knowing morality from immorality and vice versa...” His pen glides through the paper, creating lines to point on the information. “Unless though if the first killer knew of inside information, learned how to manipulate his emotions and had the ability to trigger him into following his orders and do the dirty-” Silence was then filled in the room as Wooyoung abruptly stop his talking, Seonghwa peers in to look at his face which was as pale as a ghost; still just like a mannequin. Wooyoung subtly hid his notepad to finish off mapping out the alibi, until eventually he had come to a frightening discovery as he manically wrote down the suspect in big bold letters and encircled it in a fast pace. “job.... in the original killer's... p-p-place..." Wooyoung gulps loudly as he trailed off his sentence after looking up slowly at Seonghwa who was grinning from ear to ear, offering another pour of wine into his glass. Wooyoung respectfully declines with his hands as he finished up his notes and shoved them in the inside pocket of his jacket. Wooyoung gives a soft chuckle to Seonghwa before sliding his hand covertly into his pocket to search for his survival knife.

"Seonghwa?" Wooyoung asks in a high tone. "Mmmh?" "Do you remember that time wherein I had asked permission from you to use your rifle?" Wooyoung leaves from his chair to approach Seonghwa carefully. "Oh yeah, I told you that I had it cleaned rig-" "The rifle that was used by Reacher in the recent killings is the same rifle as yours." Seonghwa pauses mid-way as he was gulping down the red wine, he gazed at Wooyoung for a bit before eventually shaking his head in dismay and laughing off at his statement. "Isn't it just purely coincidental Wooyoung? I mean all rifles pretty much look ali-" “Gold embellishing, polished nozzle, embossed initials with special machinery that can only be accessible to those with connections in the black market? That is not pure coincidence Seonghwa, Reacher wasn’t a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth let alone had any relations to illegalities." Wooyoung cuts him off with no response given afterwards, a cold chill was then felt on every fiber of his being as he watches Seonghwa menacingly launches off his seat and towers over Wooyoung.

"Yo-you're the..." Wooyoung breathlessly utters out his words before being pounced on by Seonghwa with frightening eyes and claw like grips pinning him to the ground. Both men wrestled for dominance, attempting each other on who could kill who first. Seonghwa straddles on Wooyoung's stomach, locking him in place to make sure he couldn't find an opportunity to blow. In 4 consecutive throws, his fists rapidly punched on both sides of Wooyoung's cheek, causing his molars to bust out from his gums. Wooyoung struggles to reach for his pocket knife as Seonghwa’s knees were pinning his ankles down, feeling his blood circulation cut through the life of him until he found a entry way to knock off Seonghwa on top of him. He kicks him on the balls using his heel and quickly gets up to grab onto a heavy object to knock Seonghwa out. Seonghwa, who was still crawling on the floor grasping onto the leather couch tightly, was cackling aloud and strangely aroused by how this was going. He then mustered up the strength to stand up and attack Wooyoung who by then was searching for a heavy-duty object to whack him on the head with. It was not long until Wooyoung grabbed onto the miniature statue of Janus by the fireplace, accidentally knocking off the books that were posed on there but before he could even swing it to the fast approaching Seonghwa, he was slashed through the right side of his stomach by a kitchen knife and was pinned against the wall with Seonghwa’s right arm, enforcing pressure onto Wooyoung’s neck. Wooyoung tried to grab a hold of him but Seonghwa’s grip and the excruciating pain he was feeling was too much for him to bear, ultimately letting go of his tool of defense. A roaring laugh was then ringing on his ears as Seonghwa leered in next to his ear, squinting his eyes to what view he wishes to not see.

"That son of a bitch didn’t do his work right, God what a fucking idiot... But hey! Finally, after how many months your little brain has finally connected the dots! I got tired of getting dirt on my hands, it was too exhausting to wash off the blood from my tailored suits.” Seonghwa started the conversation but this time was vastly different, his tone got a lot deeper, his insanity was through the roof and his clear intent was out onto the world. "You know? That child was such a delight to mentally play with. See how the form of hypnosis can make everyone’s lives easier?” He laughs aloud in Wooyoung’s ear who was by then weakening as he was losing blood faster. “W-why...?” A breathless question arose from his mouth. “I saw how vulnerable he was, he was willing to take all the help he could need and that was something I had been craving... longing for in my prey.” Seonghwa grins from ear to ear. “So I guaranteed him the best of care and security, but boy, oh boy” He stared madly at Wooyoung. “He was a fucking idiot.” He growled, hot airy breaths escaping through his lips.

“With the use of the treatment, I puppeteer his reactions and emotions. Pinning everyone’s bad luck as his price to be paid, even though he didn’t need to do so. I had made sure that he couldn’t remember not even a single trace of his murders the next morning and assured that everything was going to be fine but in truth he was going into the deepest pits of God’s cellar” Wooyoung finally got a hold of his pocket knife and quickly aimed for the stomach of Seonghwa but before he could even stab him there, the blade was met by Seonghwa’s palm as he was getting a hold of it, feeling the profounding pain as the blood dripped onto the wooden floor bit by bit. This signaled to even put on greater pressure onto Wooyoung’s neck, making sure his head was locked in place with no escape. All Seonghwa could do was giggle at Wooyoung’s lousy attempt, clearly amused as to how a trained cop could make such incoordinate moves. “The world is full of sinners, sinners like you.” He begins again, making sure Wooyoung is kept awake by pressing onto his wound all throughout his conversation.

“The Bible may state that God is the only perfect gentleman to ever grace on this Earth, making everyone fear for him and love him only because he was the oh-so angelic figure that could save mankind... BUT, people ARE WRONG.” Seonghwa roars out the last word loudly, making Wooyoung tremble in fear. “Satan was only doing his job into pleasing everyone, even Adam and Eve who were on the brink of starvation. He tried everything to entertain people, to let people have the easy way out; but God didn’t favor that because why? Because he was a self-centered freak that’s why, so he casted Satan into the depths of hell. Ensuring that his job was to only punish those who disobey and not mess with the mortals, but we all know that didn’t happen.” Seonghwa sneered. “Satan’s only wish was for men to cherish the riches and luxuries of life without hardships, because that’s what society longs for anyways. An easy way out without the feeling of guilt. And for that, I began my mission. To bring justice in the name of Satan by slaughtering men who ever saw God as the righteous being of ethics and life but in truth was the dealer of hardships. Luckily, under your thoughtless forms of a staff I was able to accomplish it diligently and without hiding but eventually I needed someone to tag along with and from then, everything went as it went until today.”

"You're a fucking psychopath." Was all Wooyoung could reply as his let’s out his last breath of air. Wooyoung’s eyes roll at the back of his head, pupils nowhere to be found. His tight grip on Seonghwa's shoulders starts to weaken as he slowly blacks out. Hearing Seonghwa’s last words faintly as conscience starts to fade slowly within him.

"Sweet dreams, little boy scout."

[mydayserenade]

im afraid dear friends that i wont be able to upload my halloween special anytime soon 😭 ig the next time i'll be active here would probably be during the christmas break but idk we shall see

[mydayserenade]

Chewing Gum

Falling in love was a big no-no between them, but what if one faithful night changed their perspective on the four letter word?

- romance, slow burn, sadboy hours?!?!

- word count: 3.4K

- seonghwa x oc!

authors note: this has been stuck in my fic dungeon and its about time i finally let her out into the open, though my writing is a work in progress i hope somehow this can satisfy all your atz fiction needs! please do leave a reblog or heart to let me know if you enjoyed it! i like seeing feedback :)

Love; described by many as the pinnacle of happiness, the necessity in the many trials of life, the one that can win everything.

For Seonghwa and Astra however, it was just a one time thing for them; a round trip dare you may say. No commitment to hold, no vows to break, just a simple get up and go scheme every Friday night with one ending up leaving a note for the other the next morning. Friends with benefits, fuck buddies, a leering relationship , many names to label their status but has the same meaning but they did not mind this though; they weren't embarrassed to be using each other for sex and sex only because she was too afraid of commitment and love and he didn't fancy a relationship, talk about a match made in heaven am I right?

A long stretch of lavish buildings and the shimmering rays of the sun welcomes the sight of the 24 year old man as he swerves to the right corner of the next street blasting the latest album of LANY with windows down, tension and a sensation of throwing up pretty much sums up at how Seonghwa feels as he's driving towards his destination. He finally approaches the driveway of an apartment building in his black BMW and pulls the breaks to park near the garage. He then lounges back at his driver's seat feeling jittery and sweaty as he combs through his hair and repeatedly taps on the leather steering wheel like a maniac, a few minutes after arguing with his inner monologue he then gets out of the car swiftly and to walk towards the first door on his right but before he could land his knuckles on the wooden surface to knock on, the door already has been opened for him.

"Well look who's here, none other than Lucifer's son." A wide and gummy smile greets Seonghwa in the doorway dressed in baggy pants and a multi-colored long sleeved shirt, Seonghwa gives him a soft smirk as Hongjoong welcomes him into his new abode still smelling like fresh paint and rustic wooden floors. "You're still not done yet unpacking? Soon enough you'll be reaching New Year's by just organizing your studio only." Hongjoong gives him the death stare as he was crouching to pick up his box and playfully slapped Seonghwa's calves to signal him to help carry the heavy item, Seonghwa removes his blazer and rolls up his long sleeved polo to help his friend out in carrying the big cardboard box into the living room which Hongjoong in return flips him a middle finger like a child. Seonghwa loudly busts out a laugh and winks towards him as he was filling in his bookcase, after many shared laughs and jokes later Seonghwa finally sobers down and breathes heavily making Hongjoong's ear perk up and face towards him who was standing next to the living room's entry way.

"Hongjoong I need to talk to you about something." He approaches his one and only confidant who was busy organizing his book shelf in the living room, filling in the empty space with newly bought books and decorations.

"What is it?" Hongjoong turns his attention to the boy who was leaning on the door frame with worry scribbled all over his face. "Is this about Astra?" he asked, Seonghwa shakes his head instantly with his head hanged low, something he does rarely which means the matter was indeed serious and by then Hongjoong knew something wrong was definitely up between them both.

"Did something happen between the two of you?" he asked but an anxious silence answered him causing Hongjoong to panic on the inside and signal alarms inside his head. He didn't want to jump into conclusions but he was damn worried as to why Seonghwa could not give him a response towards Astra, his best friend since childhood. "Remember what I said Seonghwa, I will really disown your ass once you hurt her." Hongjoong clenches his jaw as he tries to calm himself down from going through a manic episode with Seonghwa who by then looks at him in the eye and disagreeably shakes his head. "No nothing happened between the two of us, she's perfectly fine. It's just me."

Hongjoong then bends down on his knees and take a sigh of relief, praying to every God on earth for gratitude that his friend was okay. "You don't trust me do you?" "Well you've seen how I was acting when you couldn't give me an answer immediately, so yeah I don't." Seonghwa rolls his eyes and lifts both of his hands up in the air, "You're right." he said "You have every reason not to." Hongjoong side-eyes him and slides the last book in the shelf before he could face the black haired boy. "Then what happened TO YOU? You're shivering and acting so weird over there." Hongjoong gestures him to go take a seat in his leather couch and offered him a cup of decaf, he politely declines the red cup with his hand so Hongjoong proceeded to drink out of it. Seonghwa takes a big gulp and runs his hand through his shaggy black hair before he could blurt out the words to his friend that he thought would never leave this world let alone his mouth.

"Hongjoong" he says softly as Hongjoong perked his head up looking straight at him while sipping his coffee. He then takes up all the courage he can muster to mumble out the phrase and closes his eyes.

"Hongjoong, I'm starting to like her."

Hongjoong pauses mid-way of him sipping his decaf with his eyes wide open, he slowly puts down the red cup with furrowed eyebrows and a confused grin afterwards. He chuckles at Seonghwa who couldn't even look him straight in the eye. Hongjoong scoffed. "Bullshit." "I am Hongjoong. I know I am an asshole to many but this feeling I have curled up inside me whenever I look at her... I..... I know for sure it's something so foreign to me." Seonghwa exclaimed.

"YOU, PARK SEONGHWA? OUT OF ALL PEOPLE? Started to gain actual romantic feelings, like a human, to a woman who you've been lustfully looking at for how many months?" Hongjoong shouts aloud and launches himself out of his comfy position to sit up straight, it was such an absurd thing to say Hongjoong said to himself; that Seonghwa would even think of being in a serious relationship. Hongjoong shakes his head and signals Seonghwa that he doesn't believe every word he has said in this room but Seonghwa tries to persuade Hongjoong, shaking him and pleading him to give a few minutes. "It sounds impossible I know and you may not believe me a hundred percent but please... Hear me out, I don't know what to do and I have no one to talk to about this properly except you." Seonghwa pleaded with desperation in his voice as he cupped both of his hands and rested his forehead on there, this was so unlike him Hongjoong thought; he would only be this way whenever it was about family, academics or anything that was near and dear to him. Never in his wildest dreams that the Park Seonghwa, the resident heartthrob and player of the campus would catch feelings and consider his friend, Astra Li, who never gave an ounce of care into what love has settled for her; important.

Hongjoong sighs deeply "Fine." Seonghwa's head suddenly shoots up as he sees Hongjoong cross his legs and sips his coffee, "Let's hear it, when did this all start."

"She came up to my unit one night, this happened 2 months ago. Her aura was different from her usual during that time, almost as if it was shrouded with dark clouds. I didn't want to seem like I was overstepping her boundaries by asking what happened but she felt off for me and I'm pretty sure she felt that I felt it too." Seonghwa pauses and the corners of his mouth start to curl up. "I had asked her if she wanted to have a drink for a bit before we did our business and she said yes, but I didn't expect that from then on we would have a heart to heart talk with one another throughout the night." He says this as the corners of his mouth curl up into a sweet grin, reminiscing the night in fondness. "When she talked to me, it felt so different than normal. I don't know if it was the alcohol that was doing its business or her soft voice but she... she was like an angel sent from the heavens above." Hongjoong couldn’t even utter out a word let alone exhale due to this odd behavior of Seonghwa, the confused man motioned for him to continue on with his story. "She kept on talking about her childhood, how you've gotten to know each other, what was her family like, the usual shit you would say when you get to know someone, and so 4 to 6 glasses of whisky later, I had asked her if she was okay and if something was bugging her." "And what did she say?" Hongjoong leaned forward to hang his head on the side facing Seonghwa’s face who by then had eyes darted towards the mug on the table, a mannerism he ought to do whenever he couldn’t face confrontation. "She had a huge argument with one of her college friends, she wanted to clear the air between them because of a disagreement they had the other day. It seemed like her friend was too indenial to admit their faults so it led to them feuding to the point wherein Astra had been degraded and was called by many disgusting names." The recollections of that night and the image of Astra’s distraught and vulnerable state as she was telling him the story in that moment had entered Seonghwa’s mind and shook him to the core without noticing he had sub-consciously tightened his already clenched fist, he didn’t want anyone to lay a hand on her, not even a finger. Hongjoong took notice of this and quickly helped him snap out of his mind and bring him back to reality by which Seonghwa was in complete shock for and had to shake his head twice before he could continue on. 

“We chatted for a bit, shared some stuff here and there until it was already past 4 A.M, I had asked her if she wanted to sleep already so that I drop her off at her place but what she did next Hongjoong was most likely the number one reason I am the way I am today.” Seonghwa leaned back and sunk into the cushions, taking a deep inhale with his heart beating loudly enough to resonate the entire room. “She held onto me and said ‘Seonghwa, I know you are the most egotistical person to ever exist and I am not sure if you take compliments that seriously or not but... you have been nothing but a pillar of comfort for me even if we barely talked, it is weird I know but just your presence alone somehow fills up a void within me. Tonight, I saw how much of a person you are even if the campus saw you as the opposite and you’ve taken everything I said by heart and even willingly shared your own stories. I don’t know if you’ll remember this as we are drunk as fuck but, thank you for being my emotional support tonight and for being someone, for once, who understands what I am.” Hongjoong was appalled, enough for his jaw to hang out loosely. Seonghwa was in disbelief too, scratching the back of his head and cleared his throat before he could proceed. “Hongjoong, you know I am absolutely not the type to you know?” Huge hand gestures come into Hongjoong’s vision by which he proceeded to nod and purse his lips into a thin line. “But somehow that night, the mix of intoxication and undiscovered feelings I had, surfaced on the waters and showed me the true meaning of what I had towards her. I related to her a lot, her stories and how she was just as lost, confused and determined as me, eventually I left that night with a ton of curiosity about that woman which led me to fall... hard. Hard enough to catch feelings, hard enough to think about her 24/7, hard enough for me... to be in love.” Hongjoong left an exasperated sound through his lips, clearly bothered by how he was gonna confront Seonghwa about this because he himself, was deemed speechless.

"Seonghwa I don't know what to say, I'm at a loss for words. I'm usually good at shaking your asses up especially when it comes to important stuff but this..." Hongjoong roughly chuckles. "This is more than what I had anticipated from you, the guy who couldn't even grasp the idea of being in a relationship properly."

"Just tread lightly, you know how Astra is whenever she is faced with something impromptu. I would give her the benefit of the doubt if she'll accept your confession but-" Hongjoong pauses abruptly as he watches his friend's face slowly sag and frown "but if ever the worst case scenario happens, I still want you to keep that mindset and new heart of yours." Seonghwa lifts his head up suddenly as Hongjoong takes a deep sigh and fiddle with his rings. "Do not throw it away nor ignore it after Astra, do not go back to your old ways of being a jackass towards women and absolutely do not turn your back against love." A moment of silence was between these two as Seonghwa was appalled about Hongjoong's request to him, he tilted his head towards Hongjoong who was looking at him dead-on and in a serious expression. "You know I cannot keep such promises like that to myself."

“Well even if you can’t, your body will continue on and eventually crave for commitment more than you could even imagine.” Hongjoong crosses his arms and gives Seonghwa a cold glare, advising him that he is serious towards what he had to say. “You know why? Since Astra awoken something in you that’s new, unfamiliar, something that will excite your body more and more urging you to continue on with this kind of emotion, which is good because you finally get to stop sleeping with every woman on campus. Even though you will try and fight it off it will still linger and you can’t do nothing about it but get used to it, let all those feelings sit well in your heart and mind because you never know how good it may do to you. You are a good guy Seonghwa, I just don’t understand why you need to carry on this façade and turn into this monster of a being when you have the opportunity to change at heart and become the decent guy you once were.” He takes a loud sigh and fixed his glasses before he could continue on, clearly disappointed at the thought of Seonghwa slowly going back to his old ways. “At the end of the day, regardless if you’re with Astra or not, no one can help you except yourself. If you get lost into a pit or is stuck at limbo because you couldn’t compromise for the sake of changing, despite many people helping you, you're gonna end up destroying yourself. So, instead of becoming so dead-set into your ways, lighten up a little and take this time to really reflect on who you want to become. For her and for everyone.” Hongjoong then shoots up from the couch and approaches the table placed near his door to approach a square case and toss the car keys to Seonghwa, who by then was clearly at a stand-still and contemplated on what to do for his next step. As he took the car keys as the sign for him to leave, he bid a quick farewell and thank you as he hopped onto his car starting up the engine and heading towards his next destination.

"Astra" He gingerly says as he knocks on the white wooden surface, resting his head onto the door waiting for her to welcome him. As soon as footsteps were heard nearing the door, he stood up straight and brushed off any dirt that had resurfaced onto his jacket from then he was met by the delicate orbs of his muse who was smiling softly at his and gestured to come inside. Astra motioned him on where to sit and left him there for a while to fetch something in the kitchen after a few minutes she had approached the sofa where he sat at with two glasses of wine at hand, she then sat on the other end of the seat and looked at the boy as he coughed, put down the glass and sat up straight. "There's something I need to ask you about." Seonghwa starts the conversation with his bass voice echoing the room, enough for Astra to get the tingles. "We've been in this set-up for how many months now and I do enjoy your company every night, but... Is it possible for me to see you every day too?" Astra was perplexed, clearly unaware towards Seonghwa’s intentions on asking this question. "What do you mean every day? We see each other in the daylight too dumbass, only difference is we're fully clothed and I'm not in your bedroom moaning." She was clearly amused by how Seonghwa was acting, very rarely would she see him trip over his words and act all child-like which she found cute but concerned her at the same time. "No I meant like... everyday, consecutively seeing each other 7 days a week outside the bedroom. Spending time with each other like how couples-" Seonghwa pauses mid-sentence and slaps his mouth because of the last word he didn't mean to utter out, Astra pauses and turns her head back to Seonghwa who was sitting at the far end of her couch. "You're joking right?" she asked in a curious tone but gets no response after, her heart drops immediately down her stomach as the room grew to a deadly silence. She did not want any of this to happen. Not today, nor tomorrow or even the coming years of her lifetime. "Astra.” Her breath hitches as Seonghwa sighs and draws closer to her but is careful on not crossing any boundaries that could lead to her discomfort. "I know I'm the most fucked up person you have ever met and I am not the most decent one out here but... There's something I need to confess.” He then looks at her with the sparkles and softness in his eyes, something that Astra rarely saw which made her heart skip a beat. “That night when we were sprawled out in my bedroom, completely wasted but somehow had the energy to converse. I saw a lot of me in you, how you build up this character and charge through life straight on but is still a long lost child on the inside, something I can relate to completely. From then I thought we could maintain friends since I have gotten to know you more through that... but what you did before I drove you off to your place has changed the void I had once in my heart and I was in disbelief to the point wherein I though I had gone mad.” Astra knew what moment he was referring to her about and couldn’t resist mentally slapping herself at the thought of her state during that time. “Astra, I know you’ve wanted to keep this situation between us for so long but.” Seonghwa leans at his back and crossed his arms while inhaling deeply to continue on. “Somehow, most especially for both of us who do not believe in the ethics of love, I have found the reason for relationships to exist, and that was you.” He tilted his head towards the side of Astra’s direction who by then had concern and confusion scribbled all over her face. “Though I know it isn’t ideal for you, I just wanted to say that... I am trying my best efforts to change into someone much more than this piece of shit that I am, would you want to try out mending our relationship into something more serious?”

Astra looks at him with a glazed look, fiddling hands and biting the inner walls of her mouth. Seonghwa waits for a response, the room deadly silent and with an atmosphere so tense and thick until Astra inhales deeply,

"Is it too late now?"

"For what?"

"For me to apologize for what I am about to do?"

fic inspo: https://open.spotify.com/track/2dX2W20qzwqM6G910woDKo

[mydayserenade]

okay tumblr wtf is this slander and why wont you let me successfully save my edited fic huh? ive been heartbroken 2 times for the past hour when you couldnt render the revised version of my seonghwa fic

[mydayserenade]

we're moving to laptop later fuck this shit