#Inha Oh

[paradiseyuri]

Created by : ☆박펩PEP☆ Respective credits to the creator ⓟⒶⓇⒶⒹⒾⓈⒺ♡ⓎⓊⓇⒾ

[callofender]

[cynamonowo]

2k, show ended/true end spoilers, Disastrous Vibes

this is what happens when i can't find any proper heart-wrenching fics from this particular scenario & end up writing shit myself lmao

[yikes-all-over]

Han Tae Oh truly gave his all to Kang Inha that why he had to go through all stages of grief after that betrayal.

Kang Inha really dropped the ball on that one, supportive boyfriend on a platter gone just like that. Shame. Shame. Shame.

[queenjang21]

our beloved author & writer, since "the impossible heir" are done, can you make a story or one shot/imagines for our beloved INHA and TAEHO please 🙏❤️

[iris-sistibly]

So...apparently The Impossible Heir only has 12 episodes in total, I thought it was gonna be a 16-episode series. I have just finished episode 6 but I have also spoiled myself for the next couple of episodes that I already have the gist of the direction of the story. I may or may not post a full commentary/review about the series once I am done with all 12 episodes but so far, here's what I have to say:

I do agree that the storyline had a lot of potential, but unfortunately, they fell short as far as storytelling is concerned. The lines were just meh and the lead actress was so painful to watch, painful in the sense that I don't want to see her on-screen, that's how bad her performance was.

Choi Hee-jin was the saving grace of the show, despite being the second lead with only a handful of lines and a few minutes on screen, she NAILED every scene she was in. Lee Jae-wok, Lee Jun-young, and the rest of the cast did really well despite the crappy storyline.

Honestly, they could have saved this whole ass show had they shifted the focus on Han Taeoh and Kang Huiju's relationship the moment Na Hyewon pushed through her marriage with Kang Inha. I'll never get tired of saying this, but Jae-wok and Hee-jin have MUCH better chemistry than all of the former's scenes with Hong Suzu combined. It could have been an opportunity for Taeoh and Huiju to work together and find out the truth about who was trying to fuck up Taeoh or whatever and take KangOh together by storm, and eventually Taeoh realizing that he actually likes Huiju (I mean come on, if they gave an open ending for these two, why not just let them fall madly in-love with each other?) They could have been THE power couple of the show, and the entire series could have been saved.

I hope Jae-wok and Hee-jin would be given an opportunity to work together again as the lead actors of a drama or a film. They deserve a much better project than this.

Oh, and bring in the Taeoh x Huiju fanfics. I would love to read all of them ❤️

[queer-mystery-tournament]

Queer Mystery Tournament

[ladies-of-fiction]

Ladies of Buried Stars

Oh Inha, Min Juyoung, Shin Seungyeon

[lexirosewrites]

In honor of nurse appreciation week…

Instead of ‘Eddie gets a toy stuck in him and Steve helps him get it out,’ what about alpha Eddie picks out the wrong size of ‘pocket omega,’ so his knot gets stuck and he goes to the ER?

Omega nurse Steve is both horrified and impressed.

He wants to just get out the sterile scissors and start working at cutting away the rubbery toy piece by piece, but he can’t help the lecture that starts to slip out too.

Who can blame him? He is a nurse after all.

“You have to be more careful next time. You can really constrict the blood flow with these things if you’re not careful!”

Eddie’s face somehow gets even more flushed and he mumbles something, not making eye contact when he does.

“Sorry?” Steve asks, ready to admonish him for whatever excuse he has for buying the wrong size. “What was that?”

Some alphas just think ‘smaller is better’ and Steve knows that’s bullshit.

To believe otherwise is just antiquated and juvenile alpha-brained thinking.

Eddie clears his throat, finally looking at Steve directly when he explains sheepishly, “I got the biggest size I could find. It’s just… my knot is kinda huge.”

Steve whimpers a little at that, clamping his legs together tightly at the thought of such a large knot filling him.

“O-oh.”

He’s glad he wasn’t holding the scissors.

“Yeah, it’s kind of an awful problem to have,” the alpha admits as Steve tries to get a hold of himself and do his job like a professional.

His mouth might be watering now.

“No! I mean- uh, I’m sure there are plenty of omegas who would be willing to- that- that is to say- um…”

He can’t think of anything but big knots and being filled with them.

Eddie chuckles, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better about it, sweetheart. This isn’t the first time I’ve been here for the same stupid problem. This company just advertised carrying a size big enough to accommodate any knot and I believed them.”

Steve is going to cum in his fucking scrub pants like some slutty omega who can’t control themselves.

If Eddie’s telling the truth (and Steve’s inclined to believe him, especially since the proof is almost in front of him), then Steve’s never going to stop thinking about it.

He makes the last few cuts, finally able to pull the mangled toy off his patient’s swollen cock and behold the goddamn ‘Mona Lisa’ of alpha knots resting in his unworthy hands.

Jesus Christ.

It’s one thing for Eddie to say he’s been blessed in this particular area and it’s another for Steve to see it with his own eyes.

(and hold it)

“Oh good, it deflated a bit,” Eddie states with relief.

Huh.

“It… went down? This isn’t your full knot?” Steve wheezes out.

The alpha’s timid smile turns into something closer to a smirk, almost like he’s proud now.

“I mean, you can find out if you keep stroking it like that.”

Steve looks down, horrified to find that he was indeed running his hands along Eddie’s cock like some sort of trophy in need of polishing.

“I am so sorry! I don’t know what’s come over me. This is beyond inappropriate. I’m sure you’re ready to go home and forget all of this!”

Eddie clicks his tongue thoughtfully, keeping Steve practically on the edge of his seat in anticipation.

“While I could do without the ER bill, I think I can justify the visit if I leave with an actual omega. Maybe even one who’s a bit of a size queen?” he suggests coyly.

Steve gapes at the sheer boldness.

“How- uh, why would you assume that?” he flusters, the room feeling much smaller suddenly.

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

Steve raises one back.

The alpha doesn’t break eye contact, reaching down to wrap his hand around Steve’s, giving it a light squeeze.

“Might have something to do with the fact that you still haven’t let go of my knot, baby,” Eddie purrs, leaning in closer so his warm breath tickles Steve’s face. “Or maybe it’s that fucking puddle underneath you that’s getting worse by the minute. You’re dripping for my knot.”

He is.

Steve can hardly breathe, every inhale giving him a mouthful of heady alpha hormones.

Despite the scent neutralizers pumped out into the hospital air and the patch stuck on Steve’s own scent gland, he’s fucking enraptured by the smell.

His hand twitches, tightening.

Steve can’t help but blurt out, “My pussy can take it. I fuck myself open on the biggest fake alpha cocks I can find every night, but they’re never enough. They’ve- they’ve never been—”

He swallows, trying not to choke on his own drool building up in his mouth from ust.

Eddie presses his lips right up against Steve’s ear, letting them brush his skin when he whispers, “Yeah, sweetheart? They’ve never been… what?”

The alpha’s other hand drifts between Steve’s legs, pushing down the front of his pants and finding his arousal evident there.

Steve whines pathetically at the feeling of Eddie’s searching fingers running through the slick on his flushed skin.

“They’ve never been as big as you are, alpha,” he confesses, breaking every last ounce of willpower and giving in to his needs completely.

“What do you want, omega?” Eddie asks, trailing kisses behind his ear and down his neck. “What do you need from me?”

“I- I need…” Steve keens loudly as a wet kiss is pressed directly to his mating gland. “Your knot splitting me open like I’m just a toy.”

Eddie smiles.

“You are my toy.”

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[silverstonesainz-archive]

home

─── "you're home" "i'm home."

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

It’s nearly midnight when Carlos gets home. Most of the lights are off, save one lamp in the living room, and the light over the kitchen island where dinner is waiting for him. It’s quiet, only the sound of his own footsteps echoing throughout the house. He drops his bags by the couch, trudging into the next room to see what was wrapped so nicely on the counter. 

A blue post-it on the wrap over the food, your elegant writing in black ink. I’m so gnocchi to have you. He can’t help the smile on his lips, an amused breath through his nose at the cheesy pun. He plucks the note from its place, slipping it into his back pocket. It’s gnocchi with tomatoes, spinach, and red sauce– arguably one of his favorites that you make. He leans against the counter, undoing the clear wrap before diving into his meal. It’s the little things you do for him to welcome him home, even if you were sound asleep in the room down the hall. Like leaving the lights on, dinner, and undoubtedly the covers half pulled back. It’s the little things that help him feel a little better about the weekend behind him.

Carlos washes the dishes quietly, placing them carefully into the dishwasher before finally making his way to the bedroom. His fingers grip the door knob, slowly turning and opening the door. It creaks, it always creaks. He cringes at the sound, taking a mental note to fix it like he promised all those months ago. You don’t stir at the sound, but Piñon does. The dog lifts his head from his place at the foot of the bed, tilted ever so slightly as he watches Carlos try to close the door without making a sound. He tiptoes to the bathroom, shutting the door before flicking on the lights. 

His reflection stares at him, tired and begging for refuge in the covers and you. But he hops into the shower first, because as much as you love him, you hate the smell of the airplane even more. He pulls the little post-it from his pocket, sticking it onto the counter before dropping his clothes into the hamper and stepping into the shower. Hot water beats down on his aching muscles, sliding down the expanse of his back. He picks up his body wash, scrubbing every inch of himself before he rinses away the suds and steps out. It’s a quick night routine– brush his teeth and a bit of moisturizer that you insist he use. Oh and floss, always floss.

 It’ll keep your skin from drying out since you fly so much. He smiles at the memory of you sliding the bottle to him one morning, waiting expectantly for him to rub it into his skin. He’s on his second bottle now. 

Carlos picks up the note before he shuts off the bathroom lights and makes his way back into the bedroom. You’re still asleep, chest rising softly and hair sprawled across your face. Your head is turned away from him, left arm outstretched ever so slightly. And just as he had expected, the covers are half pulled back on his side of the bed, a warm welcome waiting for him. He only stares for a moment longer, his heart expanding in his chest at the sight of you. Sometimes he doesn’t think it’s true, that you’re but a figment of his imagination. But you’re not, and he wakes every day, grateful that you’re right there with him. He holds his breath, watching as you move deeper in the covers, completely unaware of how he looks upon you with so much love.

He doesn’t climb into bed quite yet, instead hovering over his nightstand as he opens a drawer and pulls out an old box that used to hold one of his watches. He lifts the cover, slipping in the blue post-it on top of a pile of sweet love notes you left him throughout your relationship. It’s his little secret, he’ll show you his collection one day maybe. When he’s put it back in its place, he finally slides into bed. He pulls the covers over his body before his arm slings over your torso to pull you against him. 

It’s almost instinctual the way you turn in his hold, face immediately nuzzling into his chest and inhaling deeply. He stifles a chuckle, instead holding you tighter against him. His fingers move into your hair, massaging your scalp as you blow warm air out of your nose against his bare chest. He feels a trace of your smile against his skin, the soft pucker of your lips as you press a tired kiss at the top of his chest. It’s your little habit, your special greeting when you see him after being apart for some time. Whether one hour or one week, it’s always the same– your nose pressing into his chest, usually after a kiss to his lips. 

“You’re home.” your voice scratches your throat, thick with sleep and relief. He feels your body relax against him, breathing slow as you slip back to sleep. 

Carlos presses a kiss against the top of your head, lips lingering to leave a bit more love over you. “I’m home.”

NOTE: clearly, i'm down bad. anyways ive been rotting away on this and i hope you like it. as always, feedback is always appreciated.

wanna be notified for new releases?

[tasteracha]

pleaseeeeeeee write something about minho's long hair, i'm begging and freaking out 😫😫😫

a/n: oh i’m screaming. this ask was made for me. i can’t do this. i’m going to go more feral than i already AM DHSKDJDHD

your hands tangle into his hair, strands of it spilling out of your fingers as you pull him closer to you. it’s so soft, silky and pillowy in your grip, unlike the way his teeth scrape over the skin of your throat. 

his lips don’t leave your neck as he lines himself up at your entrance, collecting your juices on him to make the slide easier. his cock passes over your sensitive clit and you arch up into him, bucking your hips against his. 

“in,” you gasp, repeating the action when he properly bites your neck and sucks at the spot. “inside of me, now.”

he leans over you with a chuckle, tufts of his dark hair falling over his face and shrouding him in darkness. his glinting eyes are peeking through the strands, catlike and squinted as he takes you in. his face goes slack as he sinks into you, eyelids fluttering closed in pleasure as he rocks into you slowly. his hair follows his movements, swinging back and forth as he moves in you, and you can’t help but be transfixed by it. 

your hand moves to tuck a bit behind his ears and you revel in how red his ear has turned. the lock slinks back out as quickly as it was tucked away, spurred on by how he’s started to fuck into you faster. you’re rewarded with a soft moan when you scratch a bit at his scalp and his movements stutter a bit. you try out a tug, a small piece of his hair locked between your fingers, and he gasps. that’s new.

he moves back to look at you with wide eyes, his cock forgotten and hard inside of you while he stared at you in reverence. 

“do that again,” he says, breathless. all hints of his precious confidence, his casual humor as he makes you fall apart under him, are done. you do what he says, taking more of his hair into your hand and pulling, harder than before. his entire body shudders as he collapses against you, head pressed into your neck to hide his whine as his hips pick back up in a harsh rhythm. 

usually, he loves to take his time with you, making you shake apart several times before finishing, your pleasure overriding his. but now, with your hands tangled into his long hair and tugging at it, his movements are almost wild as he fucks into you with a rare kind of desperation. he comes in you at the same time as you do, when you pull especially hard as you clench around him over and over. the room is filled with your moans twisting around each others’, pants and groans escaping into the air in bright colors. 

you release your hands as he pulls out, the sight of him almost sending you into a spiral. his hair is a mess, carefully crafted strands mussed up from your work. his face is flushed, a war of embarrassment and pleasure making itself known. 

“well,” he says, moving down your body until he’s a hair’s breadth away from your pulsing core. “looks like you discovered something new. don’t you think you deserve a reward, kitten?”

he dives in, lapping up his own release from your body, his tongue feeling perfect on your aching pussy. his hands move to grasp yours, guiding them to land on his head. 

oh. 

with his permission granted, you twine your fingers back into his hair like they belong there, pulling his head further into you and chasing your pleasure. he moans against you, the hum of it sending vibrations sparking up your spine. 

even when it becomes too much, when your oversensitivity takes control and every stripe of his tongue or brush of his lips makes you buck up, he keeps going. your hands fist into his hair, trying to tug him off of you but he just groans into you and keeps going, one arm reaching up to brace against your hips, holding you down against the bed. 

when you’re both laying in bed, teeth brushed and showered and in clean clothes, you tug experimentally at his hair. you can’t help the smile that takes over your face when he inhales sharply, sharp eyes flickering over you. 

“careful,” he drawls out, pulling you into him and trapping your hands between your bodies. 

you’re definitely using this knowledge to your advantage from now on. 

[yikes-all-over]

I loved Han Tae Oh's face when he stopped Inha from killing the chairman.

He said, " I can forgive framing me for murder and the ultimate betrayal, but you're tryna off your dad too????!."

[mymoodwriting]

Request for Anon (Yandere Demon Chanhee) 4.2k, yandere, supernatural, demons, soul contract, possessiveness, manipulation, kidnapping, magic (@starillusion13)

“You called?”

You and your sorority girls screamed, immediately moving away from the strange guy that had suddenly made his presence known. You were all in one of the bedrooms, having a little sleep over and playing games. Of course the others decided to try some darker things, turning off the lights and getting some candles, chanting weird things. You didn’t participate in any of this but now there was a stranger in the room. He chuckled at your reactions, looking around the room while remaining in the shadows.

“You summoned a demon.” He stated. “Did you think I wouldn’t show?”

“You… you’re a demon…” Sal stuttered. “Like… for real…”

“As real as it gets. So, what is it that you want?”

“Wait, so you’ll grant our wish?” Yaz asked. “Anything we want?”

“For the right price of course.”

A flame apparead from the palm of his hand, leaving behind a scroll when it disappeared. He unrolled the thing, holding out a contract and his hand, baring his claws.

“A wish, in exchange for a soul.”

“We sign with blood?” You questioned.

“Of course. So, who shall pay?”

You didn’t like any of this, but before you could voice your concerns your friends grabbed you and pulled you forward. You cut your arm on the demon’s claws, bits of your blood splattering onto the contract. Your eyes went wide, and when you looked at the demon you could see a satisfied grin on his face. You were still processing when your friends pulled you back.

“I want to get into my dream job!” Sal exclaimed.

“And I want to get my inheritance early!” Yaz added.

“And you?”

“Please leave…” You breathed out. “Now…”

“Of course.”

The candles went out, plunging the room into darkness. Then you gasped awake in bed. You looked around in a panic, able to confirm you were in your room and calming down. Last night lingered in your mind, but it all felt like a dream. You quickly checked your arm, and to your relief there weren’t any marks. It really was just a weird dream. You took a moment to compose yourself and then got out of bed, getting ready for the day. As you went downstairs you greeted your sorority sisters, wanting to grab something from the kitchen before going to class. When you heard screaming coming from that direction you rushed over, but you merely jumped to conclusions. You found Sal and Yaz cheerfully yelling and jumping about.

“I got in! I got in!” Sal chanted. “I got accepted as an intern at my dream job! I’m gonna get to work there!!!”

“Yas! I’m so proud of you1”

“I’m so excited! I start tomorrow.”

“I’ve got good news too!”

“For real? What is it?”

“I woke up to a very important call this morning. My mother told me that my grandfather passed away last night.”

“Oh my gosh, Yaz, I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I’ll be going home this weekend for the funeral, but you know what else this means?”

“What?”

“They’re gonna read the will.”

“Wait, you’re gonna get your inheritance? Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Yaz! You’re gonna be rich!”

“Right!”

The two started screaming again and you decided you’d skip breakfast today. You made your way out of the sorority house, heading to your first class of the day. You were kinda lost in thought over what you had seen. Last night was a dream, but it was such a coincidence that Yaz and Sal both got what they had wished for the next morning. You had to remind yourself that demons and all that stuff isn’t real.

“Morning, did you sleep well?”

Some random guy pulled you out of your thoughts, trying to initiate a conversation with you. Of course you ignored him, not wanting to give a weirdo like him attention. You walked right past him but he was soon to follow and get in your way.

“Don’t you think you’re being rude?”

“Do I know you?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Can you just leave me alone?”

“Nope, you’re mine now.”

“Excuse me!”

The boy gave you a big smile, baring his sharp teeth, his eyes turning black. You inhaled sharply and took a step back. Fire emanated from his hand and he held up a contract with blood on it, showing it to you.

“Last night wasn’t a dream.”

“You… you… you can’t…”

“I’m very real.” His eyes returned to normal, and the contract went up in flames. “So, have you thought about your wish?”

“My wish?”

“Yes, you signed the contract after all.”

“You granted Sal and Yaz’s wish.”

“I did no such thing.” He chuckled. “It’s just a coincidence, but between you and me, this weekend is gonna be very fun.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That girl won’t make it to the end of the week at her internship, and the other, she’s gonna be very upset when she finds out grandpa left her a penny.”

“You’re lying.”

“Just wait and see, but back to you. What is it that you desire?”

“For you to leave me alone.”

“Ouch. Like I said, I can’t do that. Your soul, your very being, is mine now, and I take care of my things.”

The boy stepped closer, brushing his fingers along your cheek before you slapped his hand away. He chuckled but stayed put.

“The name is Chanhee by the way.”

“And you’re a demon?”

“In the flesh.”

“What if I don’t wish for anything?”

“That’s your loss. In ten years I’m taking your soul, regardless of where you’re at in life.”

“Then I wish to keep my soul.”

“Sorry, you already signed a contract, and you can’t wish to undo it.”

“I didn’t do it willingly!”

“Your blood sealed the deal, all that’s left is for you to make a wish.”

“How do I break it then? Everything has rules, so there must be a way.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t. You can’t wish for anything that would break the contract, and you can only wish for things that would directly affect you.”

“Then I wish you never existed.”

“You wound me, but like I said, you can’t wish for anything that would break the contract. You’re stuck with me.”

“I hate you.”

“Well you have to get to know me first. Now that we have eternity together we-”

“Eternity?”

“Yup.”

“So… what happens when I die?”

“I take your soul.”

“But what happens… to me…”

“You’re mine, so I can do whatever I want. I can blink you out of existence and use your soul for power, or… you could roam the Earth with me as my companion.”

“So I am stuck with you.”

“Forever.”

“I’m gonna kill those girls.”

“Oh, do you wish to get away with murder?”

“Fuck off.”

You shoved Chanhee aside, not wanting to think about any of this and focus on something else. For now you were just a normal student with nothing supernatural going on. You had some time between your first class and the next so you went to the library, wanting to go over your things. It was still early so it was mostly deserted, but you weren’t alone for long.

“Hey y/n, you busy?”

You looked up to see one of your classmates, offering them a friendly smile. Before you could answer their question Chanhee had appeared, shoving them to the side and pulling up a chair next to you. He draped his arm across your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“She’s busy, and taken, so get lost.”

“What the fuck, Chanhee!?”

“I… I’ll message you later.”

The boy awkwardly excused himself, leaving you alone with Chanhee. You were quick to shrug him off, glaring daggers at him after you wiped away his saliva from your cheek.

“What are you doing?”

“Protecting what’s mine. Can’t just have some random guy try to hit on you.”

“He wasn’t hitting on me.”

“Are you sure? Cause that’s what-”

“He’s my project partner and we need to get together to work on the presentation.”

“Ah, so he is trying to get some alone time with you.”

“For fucks sake, leave me alone.”

“You should really stop saying that, cause it’s not gonna happen.”

“A girl can dream.”

“Or make a wish. You can have any career you want right now, you’d just have to wish for it. I think ten years is long enough to make a name for yourself.”

“But I don’t want ten years, I want my life.”

The library wasn’t the place to be, so you packed up and left, grateful that Chanhee got the hint and didn’t follow. You waited in the empty classroom for the rest of your peers and for the professor to arrive. For the rest of the day you didn’t run into Chanhee, but he was still on your mind. When you got back to the sorority house you tracked down Yaz and Sal. Although you could only find Yaz, as Sal had her first day at her internship and wasn’t around.

“Yaz!”

“What?”

“How did you know about a demon summoning ritual?”

“Why? Do you have regrets now? You should have made a wish when you had the chance.”

“I don’t care about that, just tell me how you summoned a demon!”

“It was Sal’s idea. She got a book from one of her classmates.”

“Where’s the book?”

“No idea, her room maybe, unless she gave it back.”

“You two are unbelievable.”

You went up to Sal’s room, going through her things until you found a very odd book at her desk. There was no title and the cover was made of black leather. This screamed danger, but Sal didn’t seem to care. You opened it up, seeing all kinds of demonic drawings, the writing in a language you understood although there were some parts you didn’t. You really couldn’t believe those two thought it was a good idea to actually follow one of these rituals. Eventually you found the bookmark Sal had left, seeing the instructions for summoning a demon. It was stated there that any wish could be granted in exchange for a soul.

The book didn’t specify if the wish maker had to give up their soul, but you weren’t sure who to trust between a book and a demon. Still, you took the book with you, needing to examine it some more and figuring out whether or not it could help you. That night you looked over the entire book, but it was nothing but rituals and spells with the bare minimum of information. It was a dead end, but then you realized that other books like this might exist, and those could have the answers you’re looking for. You continued your search online, looking for any other source of information, even checking your own school library to see if they had such books. 

No luck on that, but you found a bookstore nearby that carried what you were looking for. The next day during your free period you went to the bookstore, keeping to yourself as you browsed the shelf of demonic books. You were trying to see if there was any similarity between the one you had and the ones here. You thought you were alone until someone appeared and snatched the book out of your hands. You were ready to explain yourself, and that all this was just for a research paper, but you merely glared when you saw Chanhee flipping through the pages of the book he took from you.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in all this.”

“What do you care?”

“Well, I’m touched, you’re doing research on me.”

“As if.”

“You know, you didn’t need to go looking, you could just ask me.”

Chanhee gave you a smile as the book in his hand went up in flame, disappearing into nothing as if it never existed.

“Why did you do that!”

“Cause I’m an open book, so tell me, what do you want to know?”

“What is wrong with you!?”

“I’m a demon, I’m not exactly a nice person. I’m from hell after all.”

You were so done with Chanhee at this point, but it wasn’t like you could do anything to him. Still, if he was so willing to talk, maybe you could get some information out of him.

“How old are you?”

“Don’t you think it’s rude to ask such a question.”

“You said you were an open book.”

“Touché. Let’s just say I’m hundreds of years old.”

“Woah, so you’ve been around to witness a lot of things.”

“I have. It’s a good life, just going around making deals, getting more power, and I’m very handsome. Sounds cool, don’t you think?”

“Cool? You’re going around ruining people’s lives.”

“Quite the opposite in fact. I grant people’s wishes. They get whatever they desire, and the same applies to you too. So, you should make a wish to better your own life soon, time is wasting.”

🖤

Despite losing the book, it didn’t deter you from continuing your research. The bookstore was a bust as all they had there was legends and vague information. In all honesty none of those books were like the original one you had, so that meant you had to move your search to the internet. Although you couldn’t fully immerse yourself in that as you still had to focus on your own studies. The extra work certainly exhausted you as everything was important. By the end of the week you were completely spent. You got back to your dorm room and collapsed on the bed. You thought you’d just fall asleep, but you had an unexpected visitor. 

“It’s way too early to go to bed, especially on a Friday night.”

“Fuck off, Chanhee.”

“Awe, I love the way you say my name.”

“Go away!”

“Are you gonna make a wish?”

“No.”

“Hm, then let me grant you one anyway.”

“Huh?”

When you opened your eyes you were no longer in bed, but found yourself seated at a table, Chanhee across from you. He had his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced as he rested his chin on them, a big smile on his face.

“How about a delicious dinner?”

“What?”

You looked around and realized you were at some high class restaurant, and most importantly your clothes were different. You were in a fancy dress, and Chanhee matched your outfit. This place was way beyond you, and not somewhere you would go on your own.

“Chanhee, where the heck are we?”

“It’s nice right.”

“How did you change my clothes?”

“I didn’t peek, I swear.”

“Take me back.”

“We just got here. Besides you must be-”

“I don’t wanna be here. Please.”

“Fine.” Chanhee sighed. “Something else then.”

Chanhee snapped his fingers and then everything changed in the blink of an eye. You weren’t back in your room as you wanted, but somewhere else. The whole change was disorienting, but this place looked familiar.

“How’s this?”

“Where…”

“It’s your favorite, right?”

“How did you know?”

“You’re mine, so I know everything about you. Let’s order, and it’s on me tonight.”

Before you could say anything more a waitress came over to the table. Chanhee ordered and then he looked at you. This was your favorite place, so you didn’t need to look at the menu, but you weren’t sure this whole thing was a good idea. It was quiet for too long so Chanhee just ordered for you instead, giving the waitress a smile and thanks.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You looked like you needed a break, so I figured I’d provide. If you make a good wish you wouldn’t have to work so hard, you know.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.”

Even if this wasn’t your plan, you actually quite enjoyed the night. Some good food after a long week, and it being free, it was nice. Afterwards Chanhee walked you back to the sorority house. You still had homework to do, but when you got to your room you noticed a note on your desk.

Get some sleep.

You were confused, but then you noticed all your things laid out on the desk were complete. He had done your homework for you. It sounded ridiculous, but you double checked everything, and it was good.

“Unbelievable.”

A demon did your homework, that was certainly a first. Since you had nothing else, and it was late, you got ready for bed. For once you’d have the weekend to yourself, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful to Chanhee, not that you would tell him. If anything, this gives you more time to focus on your research and find a way out of that stupid contract.

🖤

The weekend was nice, but come Monday things fell into chaos. You were woken up by Sal and Yaz screaming in your face.

“Y/n! Where is that damn book!”

“Huh… what are you-”

“The demon book!” Yaz yelled. “Where is it!?”

“Uh… I lost it…”

“How!?”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“We need to talk to that demon, it tricked us!”

“What are you talking about?”

“It lied!” Sal screamed. “I lost my internship this weekend cause apparently I’m not a team player, whatever that means.”

“My whole family got screwed over with the inheritance.” Yaz added. “We just got a couple pennies.”

“Well… can’t you-”

“No! Since he left us something, we can’t contest the will, this fucken sucks!”

“I… I don’t have the book.” You stated. “But maybe you can ask the guy who gave it to you? He might know something.”

“I haven’t seen him since that day.” Sal said. “He must have dropped the class or something.”

“Oh…”

“Gosh, you don’t remember the spell, do you Yaz?”

“Why would I?”

“Ugh! What are we gonna do?”

“At least you still have your souls…” You commented. 

“Whatever. Never trusting a demon again.”

That was quite a wake up call, but you were also very surprised to learn that Chanhee had been telling the truth. The two of them getting their wishes was just a coincidence, and false hope at that. Your name, your soul, was on the contract, so the wish was really yours to make. Still, you wanted no part of this, so you’d continue looking for your way out. As you were walking to class Chanhee suddenly appeared next to you.

“Did you have a good weekend?”

“I spent my time well.”

“I see. And how was this morning? Anything interesting?”

“Why are you asking when you already know the answer?”

“Cause I’m curious to know how you took it?”

“Well the girls were upset they lost everything, and I told them I lost the book since someone swallowed it up in flames.”

“If they had the book it wouldn’t do them any good. The spell just summons demons, there’s no guarantee the same one will show up.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure something out.”

“And what about you? Any wishes yet?”

“You know you can just drop that. I’m not gonna make a wish.”

“You’re wasting a great opportunity.”

“I am trying to save my soul here.”

“Why? Are you so sure you’ll get into heaven?”

“I’m certainly not gonna go to hell with you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

It was a slow Monday so after your classes you returned to the sorority house to relax and continue your extra curricular activities. Searching the web for information on demons wasn’t any easier, but at least there were more options. Most websites seemed to be for show or people interested in the occult, but nothing concrete. That is until you came across an interesting file. It seemed to be a scanned copy of a book, and just by the look of it you had hope. You could tell the pages were old, and there was no proper title. 

This actually looked like the original book you had, so you paid close attention as you read the pages. It was a large file, but given the detail you were very hopeful. Other types of rituals and information on the supernatural were mentioned here. It seemed legit, and then you found what you were looking for. This was a different type of spell to summon a demon, but it spoke of the contracts one could make. It specified that one had to give up their own soul, and that they could only make a wish that would directly impact their lives. The biggest point to note was your way out. Even if a contract was signed, if a wish isn’t made within the ten year time frame then it is rendered void.

“Oh my gosh…”

You read it over and over again, unable to believe your eyes but also feeling such immense relief. No wonder Chanhee kept pushing for you to make a wish, without one the contract isn’t technically sealed. You were so excited to know you could keep your soul.

“So, what are we celebrating?” Chanhee asked, randomly appearing on your bed. “Do you finally know what to wish for?”

“I know you’re a liar.”

“Huh?”

“Y/n!”

You heard someone shout your name and then Sal burst into your room. She immediately started asking you about the book again, wondering how exactly you lost it, but stopped when she noticed Chanhee.

“It’s you…”

“Yeah, he’s the-”

“You gave me that book!”

“I’m sorry, he what?”

“You’re the guy from my class who told me about the spell to summon a demon.”

“Awe, you actually remember my face.” Chanhee giggled. “And how’s life treating you?”

“You lied! The demon didn’t grant my wish!”

“Well, to be fair, the wish was never for you.”

“Huh?”

“You gave her the book… why?” You questioned. “What reason do you have-”

“What are you talking about, y/n?”

“He’s the demon you summoned! And he’s the one who gave you the book, I just don’t understand why he’d do that.”

“You’re the demon?” Sal asked. “You tricked us!”

“I am a demon after all, and I’m done with you.”

“Well I’m just-”

“Shall we change things up?”

Chanhee raised his hands and snapped his fingers, taking you somewhere else. It took a second to settle down, taking in your surroundings. You had been at your desk a moment ago, but now you were sitting on a bed. The sheets were smooth and red, and the room itself seemed very luxurious. It was just you and Chanhee here.

“Where am I?”

“My room.” Chanhee explained. “In hell of course.”

“What! No, I can’t be in hell!”

“Well, you already have one foot in the grave.”

“I don’t.”

“You signed a-”

“The contract is incomplete.” You stated. “Unless I actually make a wish, my soul is still mine.”

“Hm, what makes you-”

“That’s why you keep pushing a wish on me, you don’t actually own my soul yet. The only thing I don’t understand is why you would trick the others into summoning you and making a deal.”

“The answer is quite simple love. Who did I make a deal with after all? Who signed?”

“I did but-”

“Your little friends forced your hand.” 

Chanhee came over and sat beside you, leaning in close. His hand gently caressed your cheek and the grabbed your chin.

“Such a pretty and intelligent girl can have whatever she wants. There’s no need to ever summon or make a deal. It made me want you so bad, but I had to use other means. Your little friends weren’t hard to trick into doing what I wanted.”

“You’re crazy.” You pulled yourself away from him. “I’ll never be yours! You’ll never have my soul! As long as I don’t make a wish, the contract is void.”

“Is that so?”

Chanhee suddenly pinned you down, black eyes staring back at you with a sinister smile. There was this dark aura around him, and for once you actually felt scared. Next thing you knew you felt chains around your wrists going taut and keeping you in place.

“It was very annoying to get those two to offer you up to me, and I expected us to be having a good time by now, but instead you’ve been looking for a way to get rid of me.” Chanhee growled. “I spent months watching you, waiting, and I won’t lose you over a fucken technicality. The best wish you could make is to be mine, so you won’t suffer in hell and live like me.”

“I’m not making a wish!”

“Is that so? Are you so sure that you’ll never utter the words ‘I wish’ in the next ten years? I’ll be watching closely, and accept whatever wish you make as sincere. So it’s better if you make a good one now while you still can.”

“Fuck you! Now that I know the contract is void, I’ll focus on finding a way to kill you, then I’ll truly be free.”

“If you’re so hell bent on denying me, then I’ll take matters into my own hands. I won’t lose you!”

Chanhee pressed his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. Your eyes went wide and you squirmed beneath him, but that didn’t get him off. Instead you felt something thick and irritating going down your throat, as if you were breathing in smoke. Your head started to spin, and when Chanhee pulled away you took in a deep breath.

“Y/n, can you hear me?”

“Uh… what… what did you…”

“All I need you to do is to repeat after me.”

“Hm…”

“I wish to belong to Chanhee. Now you say it.”

“I… I…”

“We’ll be the perfect companions. Now say it.”

“I wish…”

[iris-sistibly]

The show tried so hard to make Taeoh and Hyewon's dramatic scenes well...dramatic. Lol, these scenes will never NOT be cringey. The emotionless face, even the tone of Hong Suzu's voice sounded like she was having a normal conversation with someone (honey, someone tried to kill the man you love and this is how you react?).

I mean no amount of dramatic music and classic kdrama special effects can make me buy the story of ML & FL. From now on, I will be rooting for Kang Huiju and Kang Huiju alone. It's because I enjoy watching Choi Hee-jin and I like her character, that's why I try to put up with this show.

[wouriqueen]

Toxic friendship my beloved. I can't wait for Taeho and Inha's relationship to go off the rails. I mean we've got this perfect set-up.

(My 2 cents no one asked for about why their weird friendship WILL go wrong - and not just because of Hyewon - under the cut).

Taeho's tricky promise

Taeho promised to give Inha "everything he wants" as long as Inha lets Taeho use him as a golden rope to reach the "major leagues". Taeho then said, "We just have to decide what we want to do", and I guess they decided they wanted to make Inha Kangoh group's CEO. But!

Is becoming CEO "everything Inha wants" ? What if there's something else ? Will he expect Taeho to give him that too ?

Matter of fact, what if that promise is the reason Inha went for Hyewon without holding back even though he knew Taeho liked her? Maybe he wanted her - or decided he did... - and felt it was his right to go for it because of that promise?

Why does Inha seem okay with not having a clear idea of what Taeho is getting out of doing all that for him? Oh wait, he isn't! Cue the next point.

Han "I only exist for you" Taeho

Why would Taeho even say that LOL. I mean don't get me wrong, him telling Inha something so intense had my imagination juices flowing, but. It's obviously not true. Taeho didn't enter this deal out of affection for Inha. He himself called it an "economic proposition".

The only reason he'd answer that to Inha's question - "what do you desperately want" - would be to conceal the truth. Which is? The easy answer is Hyewon, and I'm sure that's part of it, though it's unclear how much Taeho's feelings for her have changed or not after 10 years. But would it really be it? I don't think so. If the only thing Taeho wanted was Hyewon, he'd have opened that door back when she tried to pick him 10 years prior - but he didn't.

Inha's anger

In episode 3/4, Inha seems angry at Taeho (re: when they think their plan might fail, and then the beach). And I wondered why that was, but it's obvious.

Taeho's cockiness

Inha's probably pissed about how cocky Taeho has been acting, and even more pissed about the fact that he can't shut him down because Taeho is, in fact, good at what he does.

Does Inha have an inferiority complex ?

Think about how their relationship started - Inha feeling judged and embarrassed while Taeho dished out life lessons, Inha asking for friendship then getting rejected only to be presented with an "economic proposition".

And the dynamic never changed, Inha constantly receiving things from Taeho. No matter how strong the affection was, Inha having a chef cook a meal for Taeho's birthday with money he didn't earn or Inha giving Taeho rides is nothing compared to Taeho getting him into a great uni and getting him closer to his dad/the CEO position, laying out a whole plan Inha just has to follow. Or at least he wouldn't see those as equivalent (and I doubt Taeho would, either).

Is Inha jealous of Taeho's place in his father's life ?

Inha clearly hoped his father would want him - remember his disappointment when he was made to leave his father's house before dinner that one time. He was even more hurt when Taeho explained his father must have called him to the house just to bother his wife. And hurt AGAIN when he found out it wasn't even his dad's idea, but his sister.

Yet he doesn't get to properly meet his father face to face until episode 4, while his more competent friend has been the chairman's right hand man for 5 years. That's gotta sting.

Inha isn't dumb

Highschool Inha knew nothing so he probably thought the terms of his deal with Taeho made sense.

Yet as they grew up, Inha must have realized at some point that something was off. That Taeho is clearly brilliant and savvy enough to get a great job in any big company and become a key player. That he hasn't needed Inha to get him into Kangoh or anywhere else. Taeho has yet to use Inha as a rope, which means he has yet to collect his payment.

Except Inha doesn't know what Taeho wants! He knows he said he wanted to "play in the major leagues", but that's so vague it barely means anything. He knows he may still want Hyewon, but Taeho can't have her AND honor his deal with Inha. Clearly so far, he's picking Inha.

So what does he want? And most importantly - why can't he tell Inha about it?

Of course we know it probably has to do with Taeho's parents and why he can't share that secret. But if I was Inha, I'd feel nervous, suspicious and powerless. Of course he's angry.

And then there's Hyweon. Gosh I can't wait. It probably won't be like I want it to be but I hope it's intense.