#hdseungho

the door to the won's house was always pretty wide open. something about how they had to be welcoming to everybody were her father's words, but she just thinks it's becaus they can't seem to say "no" to anybody. need a place to rest? they'll let you sleep for a night. need some food? here's some tteok.

did mihyang love it? not really, but it's not like she had any say in what goes on in the won household.

despite all that, however, this is a new experience for herself. when she heard a slight rustle toward the attic of her home, mihyang thought it was probably a bird building a nest or a stray cat. what she didn't expect to find was a person. she thinks she's seen him around town before, but she can't put a name to the face.

she doesn't even get the time to think either because there's ruckus toward the gates of her home. she looks down and signals for him to stay quiet before heading out. "what may i do for you?" she offers them her warm smile as they explain that they're chasing a thief. ran off with something of value—the words are muffled in her ears as all she can think about is that there's a very high chance the man in her attic is very much this so-called thief.

"i haven't seen anybody like that around here. i suggest you try looking around the square? there are many paths with dead-ends," she suggests. a sigh of relief leaves her lips as she watches them walk away from her home.

there are specific things jaeyi remembers about seungho— it surprises her that she still does. 2026, new year’s party, she’s about to fetch drinks for the friends she’s with only to catch him on guard at the drink station. her throat is tight. it’s from guilt, of course; something a less tipsy version of herself wouldn’t let her feel, so she soaks up all of it now.

jaeyi, too, soaks up the image of him. she remembers his eyes. his overgrown fringe, how she used to brush the strands of hair away. they end up in the same company, because life works out in funny ways, but she’s always kept a distance from him. it’s a struggle to differentiate what she’s allowed to do and what not to do with seungho.

FT. @hdseungho

naimara is late. she's always late. but seungho is the kind of demon who can wait through centuries and still look annoyed when you're five minutes behind, so the more she stalls, of course. the old warehouse is exactly where he said it would be. rotting, windows like missing teeth. she pushes the door open with two fingers, casual as a black cat. "wow," she calls into the dark, "you look great for a creature who prefers to haunt oligarch boardrooms." his white eye burns through the dim. no pupils, no warmth, just that bleached gaze she remembers too vividly.

she’d seen those eyes before. barely thirteen, barefoot on carpet too soft for their income bracket at the time. her magic still dormant, her senses soft, malleable and human, yet she'd felt her skull crack inside when he turned toward her. his skull-like face wasn’t hidden then, no glamour to spare her. her father's own voice had trembled behind closed doors. and after that visit… the family fortune grew teeth.

she shakes off the memory like dust. tonight isn't about the past.

HYDRA LABELS @HYDRALABELS

VARSITY 버시티 THE FIRST EP - 'VARSITY' LEE SEUNGHO

naimei swings the door open before knocking, catching a whiff of something vaguely fishy and faintly like burnt toast. "seungho," she calls, half teasing, half laughing, "i swear, if you've set off the smoke alarm again, i'm taking notes and writing a survival guide."

she steps inside, eyes scanning the room like a casual inspector. one of his fish tanks glints under the warm lamp, tiny fins darting through the water. "wow," she says, crouching a little to look closer, "you actually remembered to feed them today?" she teases, grinning. "i'm impressed. barely."

her gaze drifts to a stack of books teetering on the coffee table. "also, do you always leave your books like a tiny literary tower of doom?" she jokes, gently nudging one with her foot to watch it wobble. "don't tell me you've lost your favorite one again. please."

she pauses, remembering the first time they met - bumping into him in the university library, a literal pile of books tumbling everywhere. "hey," she had said then, plopping onto the floor beside him with an exaggerated sigh, "let's be friends… best friends." somehow, she'd managed to knock over half a bookshelf in her excitement.

@hdrookies instagram update !

ᴡ/ @hdseungho

he's not supposed to be out. not really.

it's past midnight, the kind of hour that clings to skin like sweat and someone else's perfume. his jacket's slung over one arm, thrifted leather with faded studs. underneath: a mesh long-sleeved top, charcoal gray and just sheer enough to tease. the custom skirt he's wearing sits low on his hips - pleated, black with silver embroidery - matched with designer tube socks pulled high and spotless black-and-cherry jordans that make him feel taller than he is.

he's halfway through peeling the wrapper off a mochi with his teeth, brows furrowed in sleepy annoyance at the drink cooler, when the door jingles.

he glances up.

and there he is. seungho.

maybe it's the shitty fluorescent lighting, maybe it's just the hour, but it hits like a déjà vu - like something pulled out of a dream he forgot he had. riyan doesn't smile. not yet. just shifts his weight, leans back against the humming cooler like he belongs there. teeth sink into pink ice cream. his lips are still tinted with gloss from earlier - subtle, just enough to catch the light.

"hey, pretty boy."

truthfully, when she spotted seungho in the hallway, she hadn't really planned on stopping and sparking up a conversation. however, since their last conversation via text, miru couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her lips whenever she caught a glimpse of him.

again, he was an odd kid to say the least, but that's what was so fascinating about him. who else would text her at such an ungodly hour to talk about fish? if this was his way of flirting, miru would like to say that he was awful at it, but she was here, wasn't she? maybe he wasn't so much of an amateur after all.