#pleicdes

      no longer i discern the warmth in your eyes,       the arms that used to embrace me in cold nights       are now remote and no longer close to wipe away       my endless tears which will just not halt.                ( i can taste the blood drawing from my lip once you’ve                allowed your raging fist meet my face, after all this time... )       you’re no longer my guidance and protection, my home,        my shelter to run to when i’m dreading the world and its woes.       youre are now ferocious and brutal -- as you’ve sworn to never become.                                                  you’ve changed. 

it’s about time. ( @pleicdes )

fingers mindlessly tap along the table, the sound keeping their anxiety at bay. not that they ever showed signs of vulnerability in the first place, aforementioned hidden behind chin tilted high and piercing gazes. eyes roam the unfamiliar surroundings of the restaurant, rather fancy for their liking as they see fine dining a rather pointless and pretentious first date. but not only is this a first, this is also a blind one. there’s only room for small conversation.

where can they run to when there’s nothing else to talk about?

you need to loosen up, a friend said, which earned the statement, completely overused, an evident eye roll. another hand cups their cheek, elbow on the table. the anxious hand moves to trace a delicate finger around the rim of their wine glass, half-filled with merlot that could have easily been bought cheaper somewhere else.

i’m still waiting for someone, they told the waiter prior. punctuality is simply a habit, one formed to make sure they have full reigns on the situation when, in truth, the entire thing is entirely out of their hands. that idea, however, is quickly brushed away in exchange for a positive note. (on a similar note, positivity is a foreign concept. thus, a conundrum.)

when footsteps approach, figure stopping by their table, a gaze is raised to meet another’s. a questioning look is offered, eyebrows rising in question.

Taegun and Ahreum pretend to be in a relationship for the purpose of an undercover mission. // @pleicdes

[✍] A second encounter unforeseen.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not this way. But desperate times call for desperate measures. His friend is taking the merriment of having him in a presence of another woman to a more serious matter, introducing his new project to a producer if and only if he brings a woman along. It’s very unprofessional, really. And sometimes he wishes he could have just retracted his contract with Hankyung if he had known he’d pull off such trick. Yet Taegun could not lose this opportunity.

Which one??

Both. Maybe.

It brings him in front of an extravagant hotel. No, not like the fancy restaurant where they had first met, but perhaps just as expensive. Maybe even more. A rooftop dinner. A second date? Hankyung uses his card really well.

Taegun did not expect her to come; he was ready to decline the appointment yet with a single text ( a lengthy one, with explanations excuses and whatnot ) the woman agreed. But then again, since the first night the woman defied every expectation he had towards the date, towards her. And even as he turns his head to take a glance he swears he could get intoxicated by her scent. And by the cunning smile she wears so well.

“Are you ready, jagi?” He lifts his hands, fingers opened spaces for the other woman to fill before letting that soft, warm smile to brighten his mien. “They’re waiting.”

career-oriented is what she calls herself.

( too much, is what others do. )

true to her beliefs, the request is easily agreed to.

( no questions asked. )

she had only read half the text in the middle of a recording session before typing a quick reply: okay. the rest of the message was analyzed at home. it did come as a surprise. why her of all women? taegun was charming, excessively handsome. to top it all off, he was intelligent and a complete gentleman. she rather enjoyed their previous date, and ahreum felt like she owed it to him - one favor, a gift of gratitude, if either of them could call it that. thank you, is what her cooperation should mean. i haven’t had fun like that in years.

bright red pumps clacks against the marble floor of the lobby. without fail, a crimson smile is ready to greet her boyfriend for the night. her shape, back arched confidently, is emphasized by an elegantly tight-fitting black half-shoulder dress, a white blazer draped delicately along her shoulders. if this doesn’t win over whatever or whoever they’re about to meet, then she’ll be damned.

her eyes immediately focus as she approaches, purse clutched between perfectly french-tipped fingers. her scent - roses - easily disappears from her own senses once their fingers intertwine. this makes an intoxicating mix that sends her head spinning, causing her to stare at him for a good second, taking in the view before her (which, really, is him). 

SEND A SYMBOL FOR A TEXT // always accepting!

✉ 2am

[ sns ⇒ taegun hwang ] your wife. she sounds lovely. tell me more about her.

✘ unsent

[ sns ⇒ taegun hwang ] interested in a second date?

☠ threat

[ sns ⇒ taegun hwang ] talk. or i will drag your ass to the recording studio. so help me god.

❤ amorous

[ sns ⇒ taegun hwang ] how about we get to know each other better?

Mimi didn’t ask questions. She didn’t have to when she knew she would get paid exactly what had been agreed upon. Her only condition is that her shop wouldn’t be compromised by the cars that came in and out. She rarely ever got questioned by the police but wouldn't hesitate to do what she needed to in order to protect her own. That was why she enjoyed dealing with Yuudai on occasion. Unlike the other scum she dealt with she didn't need to question him. Business was clean, fast and steady when it came to him. He got what he needed to be done and she got her paycheck. Easy.

retrieved from here. ( @pleicdes )

finding eun in the land of the living, sehun would like to consider a good twist of fate. maybe even good karma after spending years suffering through, waiting for his reaper to come back from the (literal) dead. sehun can’t even begin to imagine what eun must be feeling, all by her lonesome, surrounded by heartbeats and working lungs and tangible limbs. meanwhile, sehun had the opportunity to enhance whatever existing skills he had as a spirit, those unbeknownst to him, even.

including materializing.

( maybe he could teach her. )

regardless, it’s amusing, not to mention amazing, to watch her gracefully move about. sehun can only say as much about himself - floating seamlessly, as if a lost balloon, air without the solid confinement. it’s a shame, really, that people wouldn’t be able to witness such beauty. sehun can only be so lucky - an unhealthy positive attitude as always.

( a coping mechanism, maybe? )

his response is a murmur of, “love it.” a simple response as he easily refills the man’s glass. sehun’s icy touch alone can send enough chill for water to turn cold. a snicker escapes him as he watches eun gesture to the man’s retreating figure, a fond smile gracing his lips as he eyes her with something close to  pure curiosity. it’s been years since he’s found someone like him. “let me just clock out,” he adds quietly, finding newfound relief in the idea.“luhan hyung doesn’t really like going out much.”

45 beautiful untranslatable words prompt list | @pleicdes

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Fika (Swedish): Gathering together to talk and take a break from everyday routines; either at a cafe or at home, often for hours on end.

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Hel rarely ever felt at home. She had no permanent roof over her head, or specific location she could call her happy place. She had no one she considered home, even though her brother came very close to that definition (if only he’d let it happen).

But she has moments in which she feels simply okay. At ease and comfortable. Moments in which she can swim in sheets or drown in a chair, simply enjoying the air she’s breathing and the atmosphere around her. A good companion usually makes the thing better, too. And there’s a smile on her lips.

It feels nice to feel okay and not feel pressured to feel any more than that. Being content and being at ease. In a way, that’s what ‘home’ meant, too, right? In a tiny way...

Hel was felt almost at home when she felt like she’d rather never get up again.Like right now, with her feet under her and her hair a mess of darkness as she claimed that particular spot of Lanore’s bed as her own. All they were doing was talking and enjoying one another’s presence. There was no pressure, no need to be productive, to do anything simply because they have to. They’re just... existing.