filth(y) rich!

shaking hands, swapping dirty blood.

[sinohr]

ALONG FOR THE RIDE.

603k

he does.

only after he collects said device and grants himself the opportunity of sitting in the front seat first, v-collar seemingly soiled in a brief reflection. three, two, one is silent this round, free hand grazing along the rim of the ashtray to his left. kiel figures it’s a lot better to deal with demands this way, eye contact no longer being as necessary as it had been in the backseat through that damn rearview mirror. that, too, is silent - a plea, one that arrives just as fast as the fear on the other end of the line.

one inhale,

“park soyeon-ssi wanted me to deliver a message to you.” no english.

an exhale,

“same place, same time.” no stuttering. “or your wife won’t be the only one who hears about it.”

click.

furrowed eyebrows is a look he’s outgrown since six am alone, lethargy making it too difficult for him to be fucked any further with doing something about it. with a small sigh following suit, the corner of his lips quirks up, mouth pressed in a tight line as he spares his phone a cautious glance. concern replaces lethargy fast. “he… hung up first.”

his gaze stays straight ahead, no effort in looking at death straight in the eye being made at all.

do we still win?

fear, predictably, always sounds the same.

it’s nothing like those bullshit horror movies, high-pitched screaming (fuck, he hates watching them.  how stupid can you get? it’s all wrong, so damn wrong.  they ought to learn a thing or two from sinjin). instead, it’s the silence, that barely-audible sound of breathing; something struggling to breathe, remembering what it’s like to be alive. and then realizing that, shit, i’d really like to not die today!

you know.

predictable.

sidekick plants his skinny ass into shotgun; taeoh barely bats an eye.  better for him, anyways-- easier to reach, or strangle, whatever’s necessary.  he doesn’t think he’ll have to settle for the latter, though.  he’s almost starting to like the guy. at least he hasn’t cried.

the kid recites his lines without a hitch, and it’s all going according to plan.  more or less.  taeoh barely has a chance to reach over to change the radio station when the call ends more abruptly than he’d expected. huh. maybe sangwon’s smarter than he remembered. 

"no big deal.” his foot weighs down on the gas pedal again until the car’s screaming-- roaring.  he imagines the old man screaming instead and smiles grimly.  so maybe he’s not going to cooperate.  he hadn’t said a word during the call but taeoh had heard him loud and clear (that sweet, sweet silence).

"we’re just going to have a little detour.”

t-30 minutes until he gets on that plane.

or doesn’t.

[sinohr]

pullstrings

[ sms; Taeoh ] Yes? [ sms; Taeoh ] Is it vital or are you bored? 

( sms : 정아 누나 ❤️ ) bored ( sms : 정아 누나 ❤️ ) that, and i figured i could use ur help

[sinohr]

round two, with consilian

(...)

“what, don’t trust me?”

good man, jaehyun.  he’s always a bit uptight, like good ol’ dad, but taeoh doesn’t mind.  it’s a good thing.  different.  maybe there’s something that’s supposed to come out of this-- some good.  

then again, he’s never believed in fate. 

"lighten up, will you?  i’m just trying to have a little fun.” family business is in the works; he’s been so caught up in doing his part that he hasn’t been able to let loose for a good couple of weeks. for the greater good? yeah, fuck the greater good.  he’s still young! still dissatisfied with what he’s been given thus far, ‘cause, like, have you seen this place? seoul’s starting to get old.

"come on, hyung.  stop looking at me like that. i know i’m cute, but you’re being a little too obvious.” grin lopsided, he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand. he’s the perfect picture of innocence, all starry-eyed (and just as high), broad-grinned.  saint ‘oh.  easy on the tongue, really.

“you’ll be forty by the time you decide t’do something exciting for once, and trust me, you’ll regret it.  are you seriously going to pass up every good opportunity i offer you?”

[sinohr]

FUCK A FAKE FRIEND.

the smell of soil greets him first.

he sucks in a breath, too sharp and too sudden, head jolting against the grass.  tastes blood in his mouth, the sour aftertaste of liquor while his chest heaves.  god dammit-- taeoh remembers why he’s here.  

“i don’t have time for you to be dozing off on the job, little bro.” a foot digs into his side none-too-lightly and he curses again, peeling himself off the ground.  

“you should have gotten here sooner, hyung.  you explain the mess to dad.” minjae just laughs, eyes wandering behind him before he lets out a low whistle.  “i should take a picture of this and send it to that little girlfriend of yours.  jesus, what'd you do-- beat 'em to pulp with a baseball bat or something?” ha.

(some of the blood is going to stain his boots.  minhee is definitely going to tell on him, and he’s not in the mood to be lectured once again.)

“just tell dad that the lees weren’t--aren’t willing to negotiate.” flick of a lighter; hiss of the flame.  it’s enough to illuminate the tired lines on his face, even for a split second. 

“we don’t need them anyways.”

we don’t need anyone.

alliances are made to be broken, anyways.

[pledis17]

[hanwooz]

alone trailer - mingyu

[pullstrings]

❤

🗁:  send a text  🖅: @sinohr🗹  currently accepting

Send ❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message

[ sms; Taeoh ] I guess you’re a man, yeah.[ sms; Taeoh ] Just not for me 💔 The hypothetical marriage would never work.[ sms; Taeoh ] You have a baby face to me. It’s not my type but I’m sure plenty of other girls would love it.[ sms; Taeoh ] Or maybe I’m so used to thinking of you as when we were kids. I see you through nostalgic eyes.[ sms; Taeoh ] You’re still cute~ 

[sinohr]

ALONG FOR THE RIDE!

[sinohr]

spected

it was an honest mistake.

or so he’d like to assume on the stranger’s end. his mistake, not kiel’s own. this is a measly distraction when he finds his head throbbing faster than he can realize, right ear ringing and honestly? probably fucking bleeding if he thinks about it hard enough. (it’s time to stop being dramatic, you idiot.)

“test run,” he manages simply, jutting his elbow back into free space to signal at the stranger to let go. “you need to work on keeping more calm if you wanna make it past the tunnel yourself.” this is meant for both of them, jaw slack when he pushes him off just enough to give himself room to stretch and recover. his hand flies up to his ear, lobe tapped and scratched by his index finger to check for any loss. none, for now. stealth seems to be a hoax when kiel remembers the presence of the gun in the other man’s jacket, the tunnel and his stamina notorious for not being a good pair in the seconds he’s come to know the former. a heavy sigh accompanies this thought, shoulders rolling back when he paces slowly to the back of the cab. there’s only one look spared at the guy when he finds his footing near the trunk.

meanwhile, poor knife. as in, a butter knife could probably do more damage. it’s better left on the road than in his pocket by now. not like there’s really a choice.

“improv’s not my best suit anyway,” he lies. it’s too. fucking, early for this shit. “but yes sir.”

damn.  he'd forgotten about the snuffed-out smoke. the shove is enough to redirect his attention, ambling towards his side of the car again while he gropes around for what sits in his mouth best.  trusty ol’ lighter flickflickflicks, joints cracking as he lets his head roll left, then right. 

"ha. you're worse than the last guy, but you've got a sense of humor, i'll give you that." hypothetically, he could make up for the time he's wasted by unloading the gun into his back.  could.  but that'd just give kangjoon another reason to say i told you so, you trigger-happy baby.  trigger-happy baby, please--when was the last time he’d killed someone just because?

oh, right.

(last week.)

“my bad,” taeoh responds mildly instead, scratching absentmindedly at the ink on his forearm.  “it’s this damn heat- gets me worked up.” that, and it runs in the family.  nothing wrong with a little temper, alright? people can be so sensitive.

exhale, pause.  lips parting, he lets the smoke linger before lazily inhaling through his nose, then climbs into the driver's seat again. exhale, pause, and again.  alright. he fucking hates mornings. the car lurches forward before maintaining a comfortable speed (for him, anyways), radio volume lowered just enough to set the mood.  

"our man doesn't speak english.  i don't know what you learned at home, but here, not everyone's charmed by foreigners.” the phone is tossed backwards. “i’ll finish what i was saying.  you call, you tell him ‘park soyeon-ssi wanted me to deliver a message to you’. don’t wait for him to respond.  tell him to meet her at the same place, same time, or his wife won’t be the only one who hears about it. hang up.” too damn easy. 

(sangwon’ll have to thank his daughter for that.)

“call. now.”

[sinohr]

pullstrings

[ sms; Taeoh ] I’m the only girl you need to see. [ sms; Taeoh ] Be timely or I’ll find some other cute boy to help me.

It was nice to have Taeoh around. Truthfully, she didn’t mind his antics too much; she loved the attention he gave her. If there was anything Jungah really was a sucker for, it was to be admired and complimented. Even if she knew he wasn’t like that to everyone, he still treated her well enough and he was harmless. He was vaguely aware of her background, last she knew, so them keeping civil was a good way to disregard all the unpleasantness that she normally would have encountered.

There was that little thing about him saying he’d marry her that did rub her the wrong way, but she assumed it was all in good fun.

(She hoped.)

She spotted him as she was walking out with the extra bolts of fabric, nodding her head to acknowledge that yes, she had seen him, but she wasn’t going to call out to him in return. She especially wasn’t going to after he gave her some unwanted affection right on her cheek, at which she winced. “Hey, hey. You can’t kiss girls on the cheek if you’re trying to pick some up. Not around here, anyway.” He wasn’t too late at all, but Jungah decided to play it up anyway. “Unless you’re trying to pick me up, in which case I would have hoped you’d be sooner.” Pouting, she let him take the bolts and walked beside him, leading him toward the building that her department was in. “Girls don’t like to be kept waiting.” And she was, in particular, not exactly the kind of person to leave waiting.

“Mhm, catching up… well, my birthday passed and you weren’t there.” Among other things. “After this semester I have one more left then I’m all done.” And even if she said it with a smile on her face, she wasn’t exactly excited about it. “Oh, and I got engaged.” She took a few steps in silence as they walked up to the door, her ID card flashed against the sensor and she laughed, pushing the door open with her hip once it beeped. “Kidding about that last part.”

“if i wasn’t planning to, i would’ve kissed you full on the mouth.” the grin on his face broadens before he lets out a snicker, lightly bumping his arm against hers.  “aw, man-- you’re gonna pull that on me? don’t tell me i disappointed you or i’ll be devastated.  i’ll make it up to you, noona. promise.” so she doesn’t make his pulse race or his pants tight, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to put up with her demands. jungah’s still someone he thinks fondly of. highly of.

and the look on her face whenever he brings up the whole marriage bullshit? priceless.

(he should probably feel bad about that.)

so when she brings up one of his taboo words, engagement, he almost misses the rest of the sentence.  “jesus. i almost believed it, too.” not really.  “then again, i would’ve known by now if you did.” there’s a pointed glance at her hands, but the expression on his face is still warm, still open.  he’s glad to see her, glad to be back in touch, glad that she lets him do whatever the fuck he wants around her.  “you haven’t changed a bit.  got a little cuter, maybe.  man, global warming is real, isn’t it? i’ve never seen you do that thing- the pout. whatever that was.” accompanying the comment is a fleeting tug at her cheek before he sidles away in case she decides to retaliate. 

“where should i put these?” the bolts are rearranged until they fit snugly in his arms, eyes glancing over expectantly.  “and while we’re cleaning up, let me know if you figure out where you wanted us to go.  anywhere you want.” 

[sinohr]

WHAT IS YOUR ANGER TYPE ?

Psychotic

100% fully fledged pedigree nutcase. The impulses you get are tainted and need to be controlled. Professional help is what you need!

tagged by: @pullstrings @spected thank u love u

tagging: no one i’m not cool enough for followers

[sinohr]

( sms ) baby.

( sms: joon hyung ) if it was anyone else i’d think u were flirting with me( sms: joon hyung  ) u sound cranky, old man. take ur meds yet??( sms: joon hyung ) ( heart )( sms: joon hyung ) i’m sending u my location.  need someone to help me clean up. 🔫 i’m lazy zz( sms: joon hyung ) dad doesn’t need to know.

[ DAYS UNTIL ANNIVERSARY GALA: 13 ]

[sinohr]

ALONG FOR THE RIDE!

[sinohr]

spected

he’s all nods and sobriety this hour, alcohol a tango he craves prematurely when he’s expected to do more than just watch. you don’t look like shit is another comment waiting to be made, tongue bitten as he allows the stranger to talk the way he does. none of it is flattering in the least, to put it nicely. being reasonable should be common sense and courtesy.

“okay,” is all kiel offers if he’s looking for compliance. cue that bullshit comment about ____ being subjective ( ____ is always bound to be something), a momentary twitch of his hand near his specs to push them up the bridge of his nose. answers are as tentative as his next exhale, an unspoken fear reigning within of how he might not be able to get that opportunity again if he sticks in this cab a second longer. the darkness just now had been nothing more than a distraction as opposed to its usual cocoon, eyelids heavier than the fog in an attempt to think this is simply a dream.

lithe fingers settle on his own thigh, tap tap tapping upon black denim as he raises his palm to rest over his pocket. he disguises the need to retrieve his pocketknife as a necessary itch on the hip, one more push of his glasses before opting for handling his phone. seven oh seven, kiel mouths to himself with scorn on his face, pressing his thumb over the home button before dialing said number. (should he have asked? not like the driver’s so good at that himself. he’s more telling.)

it’s difficult to tell what’s blinding then: daylight, or nonchalance. sobriety being an absolute fucking work of art when he learns the light won’t help his sight or any fake sense of obscurity. he pretends his hand’s not really shaking, a silent prayer playing in his head as he fixes the collar of his tee. blinks each time the dial tone rings, counts down from three —

in english, he relays. forgets stuttering’s a thing, switching tongues in a havoc of anxiety another.

would that throw them off more?

did i just make this worse than this needed to be…

(ha.)

not that being american breed’s been something to particularly pride himself over before this moment, especially as of late. counts for something if this is suddenly a matter of identity.

the present taunts him like this: lack thereof.

the past will, too.

the future thinks it should.

(wants to.)

taeoh likes facts because they can’t betray him.  here’s a sample. fact: he’s studied english since he could speak. fact: he’s the most sociable of the three siblings.  fact: sociability has nothing to do with sympathy.

fact: he wasn’t kidding about his threat.

the shoddy speakers do a poor job of covering up the dial tone. in fact, it barely covers the very audible countdown, three...he waits until one just because, then slams on the brakes.  blondie’s doing a very thorough job of doing exactly what he told him not to do.  

no one takes this route anymore so he takes the liberty of swinging the passenger door wide open and yanking him out by the collar, nice-boy-kim-taeoh long gone.  “that’s not fucking funny,” snarls out (in english, for entertainment’s sake).  the clumsy accent of a native seoul upbringing disappears when he’s upset.  peeved, really. the call ends just as it’s about to connect; he has to remind himself that he needs the phone. spits the still-burning cigarette onto the still-black ground.  the grip tightens; he lets blondie’s head slam against the side of the car, just enough to stun but not enough to knock him out.  

“i’m going to tell you a story.” there’s a distinct lump in the man’s pocket-- he’s met enough cowards to know what’s in there. the pocketknife is lifted between them. he lets it dangle, then soar far above their heads until it hits the other side of the tunnel with a dull clang.  “i’ve done this before with guys like you. one of ‘em thought they’d call wolf, too.  you know what happened to him?” there’s still a trace of a grin on his lips, but his eyes harden.

“no one does.” except me.

“i was even gonna let you help me with the dialogue, but from here on out, i’m in control. no fucking mistakes. no stuttering.  you call when i tell you to. understand?” 

non-fucking-negotiable.

[sinohr]

round two, with @cespires​

(...)

“...huh.” he hadn’t thought about clothes. “i guess i wouldn’t really wanna go in my underwear.”

he knows that look--  people always think there has to be meaning behind everything. kid with the smile, you gotta have a sad story, a fucked up childhood... something, right? yeah, fuck that- he’s all about living in the shallow end. accepting everything at face value. you trust someone or you don’t.  jieun might not be his ride-or-die, but he knows a good confidant when he sees one.

he’s still a kid, but he’s not stupid.

“fuck yeah i would.  this is why you’re my favorite jieun.” his only jieun. whatever.  the curve of his lips grows twofold, broad and evidently pleased with her answer.  life doesn’t follow rules, so he doesn’t waste any more time worrying about the end scene.  she swivels on her stool; he follows suit, reaching out afterwards to place his hands on the seat of hers.  

"when i die, i’m gonna go down in history. with a bang.” he’ll make sure to clean up the city first, though. bang.

end of discussion. 

“let’s go get something to eat, noona.  my treat.”

[yourgeniusplaylist]

Visit Original Link

[sinohr]

round two with @consilian​ 

(...)

“’s a serious question, jaehyun.” he feigns offense, arms lowering above his head as he remains on the floor.  subtle red rings his eyes, but he’s not tired. he’s fucking hot, actually, burning from the inside out. side effects. a small loss for a paramount gain- it got him through three rounds of business meetings, and he’d even managed to laugh at old man sanghyun’s jokes. 

thank god for good highs.

the question’s thrown out carelessly. he’s probably said worse-- no, he’s definitely said worse, so there’s no use in keeping it pretty.  if he gave a shit about what others thought of him, he’d waste a lot more time than he liked.  efficiency over empathy. always.

sniffing, sore knuckles graze his nose before falling limply onto his chest.  from here, the light coming in from the window explodes.  it’s seeping into his skin, into his veins, into his bones. taeoh, the fallen angel.  ha.  kind of has a ring to it, actually.  “man, you disappoint me. you sure you don’t wanna reconsider?”

“school.  before they dragged my ass back here, i mean.  i had a friend, pre-med, stuck up prick. the bad kind, not like me, by the way. but he was pretty funny.” he sniffs again, wriggling his feet.  feels nice to settle down like this.  fallen angel taking a break from his daytime job, oil, 2017.  

"he said a lot of bullshit, but one time he told me somethin’ that stuck with me.  we’ve got three natural rewards: sex, drugs, food.  natural, my ass.  anyways, he said something about how it manipulates us.  cuts us up. makes us do shit we didn’t think we’d do.” taeoh has no idea where he’s going with this, but he doesn’t really care.

"a bunch of lab rats have a lot in similarity with you and i.  fuckin’ funny, don’t you think?”

animals.

not him, though, he’s a fallen angel.

[sinohr]

ALONG FOR THE RIDE!

[sinohr]

spected

if aching feet were a sign for something, kiel definitely wouldn’t have assumed it was for this.

work decided to be thirty blocks too far from this spot as opposed to its usual thirty blocks, a brief aficionado for the subway system gone too soon when he’d remembered how anxious tight spaces made him feel. (it’s not really that, it’s how people smell around this time): a petty reason to avoid that transport, maybe. however, nonetheless valid.

karma seems to disagree.

“i’ve -” been out, he wants to say. the man’s clearly more disoriented than the original cab driver had been, which would have been another comment save for the gun whipped out just now. six thirty tells him eight won’t really mind if he skips out on breakfast altogether, cab fee being all the cheaper if he complies. a smart mouth wouldn’t get him anywhere at this point either, literally and figuratively. he can be sharp otherwise if he tries, though.

but don’t give me that chance today. it’s too early for this shit.

i’ve seen worse, he continues. lies to himself, gaze at the mirror unwavering.

“i’m not paying you.”

i’m not paying you- ha! this guy has a sense of humor. "can't," he corrects amusedly.  "no offense, but you don't have the money i'm looking for." 

( sms ) he's been abroad for the past couple of days. ( sms ) i attached the ETA and flight information. ( sms ) don't be dramatic. i'm serious, kid. your dad doesn't want anything coming up before the gala.

dramatic, as if.  "listen...." he doesn’t bother asking for a name; it won’t matter in the end, anyways. "man. i'm not too keen on murdering anyone today, so we'll just take it easy, alright?  there's a number i want you to dial." meaningful pause, a sharp left, then- "we're going to have a practice round first. " their gazes meet again, and his newly entrusted sidekick looks almost...defiant? that’s a bit concerning. “i know i look like a nice guy and all, but if you even think of getting the police involved, i’ve got plenty of bullets to work with. ‘m not committing murder today, but accidents happen, you know?” there’s something deceiving about the pleasant lull of his voice, the warmth in his smile-- he’s just making sure the guy gets the picture before they buddy up. “you seem like a reasonable guy.”

another meaningful pause to let it all sink in.  

(fuck, he loves this.)

they’re hurtling off into the mouth of a pitch-black tunnel now,

( sms ) that’s not the direction of the airport. if i get scolded for this i’m telling him i tried my best.

and his mouth is splitting into a wolfish grin. the needle on the speedometer wobbles rigidly, daylight bleeding rapidly from their line of sight. he’s no longer preoccupied with the time.  “repeat after me: ‘park soyeon-ssi wanted me to deliver a message to you.’”

[sinohr]

pullstrings

[ sms; Taeoh ] That’s still a 1% chance of failure. Are you sure you want to make a bet with me? [ sms; Taeoh ] That’s a good answer, you always know the right things to say, Taeoh [ sms; Taeoh ] It makes me think you want something. [ sms; Taeoh ] I think in a school of all women you’re bound to see someone. I think some of them are good looking, anyway. I don’t surround myself with things I don’t approve of, you know that. [ sms; Taeoh ] I’m on the main campus, Arts & Design Building A. I need to move some stuff over to another building but I’ll let you in first. We can head out after that.

( sms : 정아 누나 ❤️ ) that was just to seem humble ㅎㅎ ( sms : 정아 누나 ❤️️ ) was that a compliment?? i’m keeping proof of this ( sms : 정아 누나 ❤️ ) noona please ( sms : 정아 누나 ❤️ ) the only girl i’ve seen in the last 24 hours is my sister have some sympathy ( sms : 정아 누나 ❤️️ ) only the best for her majesty ㅋㅋ i have faith in ur taste in people

his friends ask: why yoon jungah? he loves jungah like he loves his sister, but that doesn’t stop him from telling everyone and their mother that he’s going to marry her. it’s not an unpleasant thought (even if he’d sooner shoot himself in the head than settle down) and it keeps madam kim off his back. aside from that, she’s pretty.  and smart.  and guys are intimidated by her, so why not yoon jungah?    

most importantly, taeoh has enough respect for her to put on a clean shirt.  

the school is a fuckin’ eyesore and the last place he’d be caught at but he takes his time, cigarette affixed to his lips, the sun at his back. he’s tossing the remains onto the ground when her figure comes into view.  “noona!” sauntering over, he leans in to press a dispassionate kiss to her cheek.  she probably won’t appreciate the sentiment but he’s in a good mood today, even more so when he takes note of his surroundings.  there’s a girl at a nearby table who looks like a solid ten; he makes a mental note to ask jungah for her name later.  that can wait.  “would’ve gotten here sooner, but traffic was shit and kangjoon hyung drives like a seventy-year-old woman.” i’m sorry sounds cheap; he goes for the bolts of fabric instead, tucking them beneath his arm with his other hand lightly resting at her back to usher them outside. 

“about time we catch up, don’t you think?” 

there’s more to this than just catching up, but he’s not in a rush.