exploding alcohol

otakusapien  asked:

Andreil, 7

They’re not sure who’s idea it was (that’s a lie- it was Nicky’s) and they’re not sure how the monsters were convinced (Katelyn can only be responsible for Aaron- the rest will forever remain a mystery) but that late night, the Palmetto State Foxes plus one cheerleader were caught up in a game of “Never Have I Ever”.

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The Run and Go - J

Request: Hello . Can i request a scenario where the female lead always get abused by her uncle and she always try to hide it from her bestfriend which is Junhoe . I was wondering how would be junhoe reaction as junhoe really loves her more than a friend . I hope u understand my point and i am sorry if my request is confusing you as english is not my first language 😇 and thank you for always writing lot of cool stories. I enjoy it a lot 💞

Sure can! Thanks for requesting, come again soon! (also, you speak English a lot better than some native speakers i know, so you’re absolutely okeydokeyo!)

Song of the Story: Charon by Keaton Henson paired with Heavy Rainfall and Thunder

Summary: As a child, your parents’ fate ended in a way that was less than appealing for a six year-old to deal with. Sent away to live with various family members, you finally settled in with your father’s brother in a city where you also met your best friend- Goo Junhoe. The man you once called your uncle became something short of monster. For years, you tried your best to keep it hidden, hoping that maybe the man you knew would return. Or, that someone would take you away from this. You just weren’t sure who. 

Warnings: There are mentions of sexual abuse, verbal abuse, domestic violence, and death in this story. If any of these are triggering, please skip over this!

The Run and Go.

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Bad Habits - Part Two

Originally posted by msmichellec

Title: Bad Habits - Part two
Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader


Anyways, I’m the one missing, babe.
Leave without regrets.

Everything was decent; some fights here and there, a couple arguments, threats of breaking up, but they were able to overcome it. Jinyoung once gave them the title of ‘Power Couple’. At the time, it did make sense, but the more and more Jaebum pushed himself to not fall back into the old habits he was accustomed to - drinking, going out often, overworking himself, hating his entire being, destroying himself from the inside out, not giving enough attention to the people around him, partying, practicing - only focusing on himself, the more there was a strain on his relationship with her and, with her keen eye, she began to notice how Jaebum’s image was slowly crumbling down to his feet… Piece by piece, second by second.


It was a cold, crisp night, Jaebum sighed as he walked into their shared house, hanging his jacket up in the mudroom. One sleeve after the other, resting onto the white plastic rod hanger and into the closet it goes. He then carefully slipped off his sneakers and placed them onto the black mat and made his way into the living room. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked, spotting a plate of dinner, which was nicely wrapped in silicon foil for him with a sticky note that read: 'I thought we were going to eat dinner together for once.’ Which, in turn made the male huff and throw the sticky note across the room - which, only landed a couple feet in front of him - and pulled the chair out, sitting down with his legs open. Jaebum ran a hand through his messy dark locks and let out another sigh.


“Fuck.” He swore and strided over to the kitchen, almost stopping himself half-way. “No, I can’t,” Jaebum mumbled, his hand gripping onto the handle of the fridge tightly, his knuckles almost turning white. “I can’t go back to that.” His grip started to loosen for a bit as he internally fought with himself. Half of his mind was urging him to open the fridge, give in, take the can of vodka he had hidden in there months ago, and straight up chug that thing before going onto the rest of the alcohol he had hidden throughout the house, but the other side of him was begging him to not do anything, to stay strong, to just go upstairs, apologize to (Y/N) and hold her tightly to his chest while he dozed off.


It took everything in him to step away from the fridge, race upstairs, the stairs creaking under his weight and open the door to their shared bedroom and stripped off his outerwear, leaving him in just boxers, before climbing into bed. Once in bed, he could feel her shift over, probably smiling that he was in bed with her and wrap an arm around him. Though, as comfortable and happy as he was, he could not sleep - not even will himself to sleep. Everything in his mind kept urging him, egging him on. Everything was slowly catching up with him, no matter how much he tried to leave it all behind… It always comes back to you, doesn’t it?

The next morning, he awoke, laying in bed by himself. Sitting up, he looked over at her side of the bed, her pillow probably still held her scent and most of the blanket had ended up on her side as well. Getting up, Jaebum slung his feet over the end of the bed and pushed himself up, standing up straight. He then walked over to the washroom, spotting a sticky note on the mirror which read: 'I think you need more sleep. Get home early tonight.’ He then peeled the sticky off the mirror and casted it aside and stared at his reflection in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin lost its glow, which were clear signs that he wasn’t taking proper care of himself. The male then shook his head to rid of those thoughts and went downstairs, making his way into the kitchen for some breakfast. 

Mornings were always the easiest for him, nothing attacked him at night. He always kept himself on the go, not taking as many breaks as before - anything to stop his habits from coming back. As he continued to work, he slowly felt the night creep up on him, feeling his habits come into play again. His pen flew across the paper, signing his name neatly on the marked line before lying itself down across his desk. He glaced at the time on his computer which flashed half past 6. If he made it home now, (Y/N) wouldn’t know what he would do. “If I just have some, discard the evidence, it’ll be fine. I’ll just sleep before she comes home." 

Of course, some didn’t mean one or two cans, it meant the whole freaking case and a couple extra.

He was completely drunk, hugging himself tightly as he cried. Gulping down the rest of the bottle of alcohol he forgot the name of as soon as it was opened by him. He heard the door open and he tripped over his own two feet, scrambling to hide his mess. "Jaebum?” Her voice sounded distant and distorted as it rang in his ears. He felt her arms gather him into her chest, feeling her warmth. In this exact moment, oneself is supposed to feel joy and comfort, is it bad when you don’t even feel anything? He wondered if it was just the drunkness getting to him, but… Would that mean he was always drunk? “I thought you said we weren’t going to–" 

"I know what I said!” He replied and moved away from her, biting his lip and hugging himself yet again. “I just… I can’t help it, (Y/N).”

“You could have told me and I could have helped you.”
“Help wouldn’t do anything at this point!” He sniffled and stood up, moving his arms in front of him to maneuver his way to the fridge. “I am a lost cause!”

“No one is a lost cause, Jae!” But he didn’t hear her. He just continued to speak his thoughts. No filtering when drunk brings out the truth. “I stay out all night, party, don’t take you out on dates anymore,” He opened the fridge and grabbed the last can of vodka he had kept in there. Before he could open it, she grabbed it from his hands, making him look back at her. “I can’t do this anymore. Watch you wreck yourself as I’m self destructing.”

Her eyes started to gloss over as she held her breath, clutching the can of vodka closer to her. Jaebum reached out his hand, curling his fingers a bit and motioned for her to hand it over. “Let me drink it.” She then shook her head and stepped back, bumping into the bottle of alcohol, making it tip over with a clang and roll away. He then re-stated his question more firmly, still getting the same reaction from the girl. “I can help you, Jae, just let me help you.”

“I already said I’m too far gone.”

“Stop making excuses!” She yelled, dropping the can of vodka on the floor, making it explode on contact. The alcohol started to leak out of the can, making it smell like rubbing alcohol reach their noses. “I’ll help you.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“Y-You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.” She replied, tears spilling from her eyes as she stared into Jaebum’s eyes, trying to find their hidden emotion within them - eyes are the gateway to the soul after all. “I can’t make you happy, all I do is cause you pain, so… I’m breaking up with you.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Then I am.”


A/N: I feel like this sucked. I wanted to squeeze something out considering I need something to get my mind off things… Friend drama. Anyways, this is part two of Bad Habits! I wanted to at least put a backstory on JB’s Bad Habits… Anyways, I hope you liked ittt!

-H.

#179: Quickies

A/N:

I think the title says it all hey hey it features sexual content so I’m warning ya’ll. I actually wrote this down by the beach yesterday in Alicante, it was where I got Calum’s idea ahahah!🌊🌴☀️

Find my Masterlist here // Read The Math Teacher here

Luke:

Sounds of tongues battling against each other, moans being muffled through mouths and pants coming from your lips the second Luke detached his lips from yours filled the small closet that clearly wasn’t appropriate for your current position. ”Quiet baby,” He whispered against your lips while pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, placing a sweet kiss afterwards. ”This gotta be a quick one.” You suppressed a moan the second you could feel his finger stop his movements around your clit. ”How quick?” You breathed in question and looked up at him as he positioned you so he could press his member into your entrance without problems. He looked up while trying to remember the song that was being played in the background and his eyes widened slightly. ”This is their last song on the set. Which means very fucking quick.” He breathed before pressing his whole member inside of you, not even giving you time to adjust. It was a hard task to do it inside a broom closet but with your constant teasing all day Luke didn’t give a damn about anything. ”This is-, is very harder than I thought.” He stammered with furrowed eyebrow, trying to avoid not knocking down the bucket next to him, his hand being pressed against the wall by your head. You only hummed in response while leaning back, your eyes closed and your hands trying to grab onto something that wasn’t his hair. Even if it didn’t looked styled at all he couldn’t have the boys to notice anything. ”Are you close?” He questioned even though he could feel you tightening around him. You only hummed in response while trying to be as quiet as possible, hearing the sounds of voices just outside the door. Luke nodded his head and moved his hand down to circle your clit. The increased feeling of pleasure made your thighs shake with adrenaline, and you could tell by the way Luke’s lips were parted and his cheeks being flushed that he was coming soon, too. One particular loud moan that you couldn’t hold in was enough for him to come, feeling the orgasm spread its wings through his whole body, down to the smaller part of his fingertips and toes. You didn’t care the slightest now as you reached up to grab his hair, feeling your muscles clenching around your thighs and it didn’t get less intense despite Luke’s thrusts becoming rather sloppy. You were a giggling mess when you both had calmed down, Luke still holding you up against the wall while he was still breathing heavily against your chest. You smiled softly at him while pecking his sweaty forehead repeatedly and felt his body vibrate against yours with deep silent chuckles. He smiled up at you in affection but hid eyes widened the second you heard Ashton yell from outside the closet, ”Where the hell is Luke? We have to be on stage in less than five fucking minutes!

Calum:

”Honestly Cal, your ideas are sick.” You remarked but giggled anyways as he moved his lips mindlessly against your neck. He hummed quietly against your skin while working up a hickey just below your ear, a smile embracing his face when you shuddered beneath his touch. The waves around you weren’t that wild to knock you away from each other, but enough to sometimes drift yo to your chins and splash salt water in your eyes. It was Calum’s idea, no wonders. With all the sudden teasing with the sunscreen he couldn’t hold his hands away from you. And what better way to do it than in the ocean filled with people around you. ”The boys can see us.” You whined when you felt his fingers moved your bikini to your side even if you had protested against his idea all the way out to the ocean you couldn’t control the moan of pleasure escaping your lips. ”Trust me they won’t take notice.” He breathed against your neck and started to thrust in and out in a fast pace. ”It will only look like we’re swimming around romantically.” You moaned lightly in response and wrapped your arms around his neck to mute some of your sounds. Not that anyone could hear you, you had managed to swim away from the crowd of people at least 20 meters away from you and the waves were loud. One of his hand came down to hold on your hip while the other one took out your bun and wrapped it around the strands of your hair. ”Besides this is gonna be a fast one. I’ve promised Michael to buy a beer when he wakes up from his nap..” He whispered against your cheek before pressing a kiss, his hair wet from diving under before, small drops of water still holding onto the strands. You nodded your head agreeing and tightened your legs around his waist, the water making it easier for him to carry you around. ”Admit.” He breathed while feeling your nails scratch into his back while leaning your chin on top of his shoulder. ”This is much better than doing it in the bunk.” He let go of your hair and hip to grasp your bum in his hands, pressing you further against him. ”I’m close.” You moaned while squeezing your eyes, the sun burning warm on your almost bare bodies. The water had been cold at first as Calum laced your fingers and pulled you towards the waves. But now it was far from it, almost burning you up while he thrusted into you in such a fast pace bobbles were created around you. ”Just let go.” Calum mumbled while squeezing his eyes and his jaw dropping. ”I’m right behind you.” His finger moved down to circle around your clit and make particular deep thrust, a satisfied smirk coming to hips lips the second a high moan came from you, your thighs trembling and your whole body shaking with pleasure and adrenaline.

Michael:

”I swear if I had to pay you a dollar for every single time you’ve made me hard on most inappropriate times you’d be a millionaire by now.” Michael breathed while shrugging off the blazer he was wearing and loosened the black tie around his neck. The zip on his black skinny jeans was struggling harder than ever to not explode, the boner in his pants craving for some space. ”May I ask why?” He questioned while watching you rest on the bed and giggling up at him, shaking your head because to be honest you didn’t have one. He grumbly pulled down his pants quickly, a huge breath of relief escaping his lips the second he took the boxers with him. Grabbing you by your ankles he pulled you down to the edge of the bed, not even caring to take off you dress and lifted it up to your stomach instead. ”I hope this will satisfy your needs because I swear to god Y/N we will be late.” But even if he tried to seem stern in his voice he couldn’t express the amazingly feeling of being inside of you. You rolled your eyes by his statement and arched your back, feeling all the emotions you had been trapped inside of you finally getting the chance to be released. Whether it was the fact that Michael was super dressed up tonight or simply just horniness hitting,you didn’t know. You needed to get a release and it had to be now, you couldn’t wait. And even if Michael was determined to not be late for once he couldn’t resist anything. The way you were tracing your fingers up and down his crotch while he was trying to fix his hair had left him craving for more. ”You are, by far, the most teasing girlfriend.” He almost grunted while pounding into you in such a pace you could barely catch a breath or stay quiet. The position was practically hitting you right in the g-spot and Michael had really thought that through. Hooking your legs tighter around his waist he gave hard deep thrusts that made you roll your eyes to the back of your head, your orgasm slipping over the edge. The huge clenching around his member and your trembling legs was enough to sent him over the edge as well, one loud moan coming from him the second he finished and calmed down. Smiling softly in exhaust he leaned down to grab your panties and pulled them up your legs. You were still resting on the bed almost frozen trying to catch your breath, watching as he pulled down your dress. He situated the tie around his neck and ran his fingers through his hair. Grabbing his blazer from the dresser he looked over his shoulder to smirk down at you, ”You tired?” He grinned and couldn’t control the giggle escaping your lips, the way he was smirking down at you almost making you crave for a part two.

Ashton:

”Shh,” He teased and moved lips away from your throbbing area to peck your pubic bone teasingly. ”Wouldn’t want anyone to know I’ve sneaked into the ladies room.” You rolled your eyes by his statement and leaned the back of your head against the mirror behind you when Ashton’s lips found your clit again, sucking like life depended on it. The music behind you had become faint, the otherwise loud bass not affecting your ears anymore. The sudden moment between you were clumsy, sweaty and so daring and intimate you couldn’t even point what kind of songs were mixed into the clubbing remix. People had been trying to pull on the handle for hours but you didn’t mind the slightest. ”I’m gonna get bruised tomorrow.” You breathed as he nuzzled his head up to your mouth, the sweat on his forehead making the curls stick. ”You like it rough sometimes just admit it.” He breathed as he grabbed you by the hips to pull you to the edge of the sink, moving his hardened member around your entrance and pushed inside. You moaned by the stretch of him, the taste of alcohol exploding each other’s mouths as your tongues battled for dominance. ”I think you’re the one preferring it rough.” You moaned against his neck as he thrusted into you, your hand coming up to grasp his sweaty curls as he rocked you back and forth to the beat of the fast bass in the background. ”But you don’t deny it.” He grinned and pressed you further against the mirror behind you, almost creating damp by the intense and hot action between you. The new angle managed to hit you right in your g-spot, and adding up with Ashton’s fast and deep thrusts you knew you wouldn’t last for long. ”You’re shaking,” he grinned and moved his hand between your bodies and circled your clit. ”I know what that means.” Biting down on his shoulder by the arousal it didn’t take you more than two minutes to cry out his name muffled into his black tee, your whole body shaking by the intense orgasm as he kept on thrusting to reach his high. ”You feel,” He took a second to catch his breath before burying himself inside of you completely, ”So fucking amazing,” He stopped the second his member twitched inside of you, feeling his orgasm explode through his veins as he held you close while breathing heavily. You were a panting mess too you didn’t even dare to look at yourself in the mirror behind you. ”That,” He moved his lips up to your lips to press a sweet tender kiss, ”Is what you get for not wearing panties tonight.” You giggled lightly by his words and shook your head disagreeing and jumped down from the sink, your legs wiggling and he caught you easily while smiling. ”Besides. We haven’t done it in a public bathroom before so this is one to add on the check list.”

Chris Evans X Reader

It had been a hell of a week. A literal hell. Your boss had been bothering you all week, your sister had called to say her boyfriend had dumped her –you warned her not to go live in with him, but of course she hadn’t listened—, and was now texting you her way through the breakup and your period had begun two days earlier than expected, ruining your favorite pajamas, not to mention your phone had spontaneously stopped working. And now this.

“Fuck.” You mumbled under your breath watching the train that was supposed to take you home leaving the platform. Taking a step back you felt a strangely well-known annoying stickiness. “Fuck.” You huffed looking down at the pinkish gum stuck on your shoe, and walked backwards cursing under your breath. “Fuck.” The word slipped out of your lips when you bumped against someone.

You turned around to see the single most handsome man you had ever stumbled upon, he was smiling down at you, showing off his perfect white teeth. “Hey.” He said half-smiling.

“Fuck.” You tried to catch the word before it fell out of your lips but your brain stopped working as it was too busy admiring the beautiful man upon you.

He chuckled, showing the whitest teeth to ever exist and you awkwardly smiled apologetically. “Chris, actually. But I guess Fuck works too.” A strange prolonged ha came out of your mouth. “Hard day?”

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papaya-boy  asked:

imagine enjolras knowing the grantaire is in love with him and enjolras is in love with grantaire too but he's scared that he won't live up to grantaire's expectations so he never tells grantaire until one drunken evening when it just slips out

Enjolras and Grantaire were the only ones left around the campfire. Or, at least, what remained of Enjolras. He had left a good half of himself in the bottle he had finished earlier, and another quarter had disappeared due to exhaustion. His inhibitions, it seems, were not part of the quarter he had left.

“What are you smiling about?” Grantaire asked with a huff.

“You,” Enjolras replied, smiling some more. “Your hair is so beautiful and twisty. How do you get it so twisty? It’s like curly fries but better. Less crispy”

Grantaire tightened the cover he had thrown on Enjolras’ shoulders earlier.

“It’s called genetics, Apollo.”

“You have good genes,” Enjolras said in earnest. “Beautiful genes.”

He heard an amused snort, but his vision was too blurry to witness it.

“You’re completely smashed, aren’t you?” Grantaire laughed.

“Beautiful,” Enjolras continued. “So so so so pretty. And talented. And funny. I love you so much it hurts.

He didn’t see Grantaire’s body freeze at the words. He was too busy falling backwards, looking at the stars. Grantaire was like one of those, his intoxicated brain supplied. A star far far away, burning bright. That was the last thought he had before falling asleep.


He woke up to the sound of the nearest rooster and that of the fanfare parading in his skull. Enjolras had never been good with alcohol. Outside, everybody was getting out of their tents, greeting each other with sleepy good mornings and yawning.

The problem of the fire soon arose. Courfeyrac had brought everything to make breakfast smores, and a lighter would most certainly not do the trick. Enjolras volunteered to gather some logs around, and so did Grantaire. The vague memories of the campfire were too hazy for Enjolras to recall what he had said. If he was to believe Grantaire’s insistent stares, he had probably opened his mouth a bit too much.

“What?” he asked, once they were both out of earshot.

“You said that you were in love with me.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Enjolras took root where he stood, unable to move. He had said that. He had actually said that. How could he be that stupid?

“For what it’s worth… I am in love with you too,” Grantaire said, poking a log with his foot.

“I know.”

Once again, Enjolras was talking without thinking. This was becoming a very bad habit. Grantaire’s head snapped up.

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t say anything?”

“You’re not in love with me, Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed, finally breaking out of his trance. He had thought he would feel better after saying it out loud. He didn’t. Not one bit.

“What?”

“You’re not in love with me. You’re in love with this… idea of me, the great Enjolras, the ideal. You keep calling me Apollo and saying I’m an angel, that I’m perfect, but I’m none of those things! I’m just… a dumb human! And once you see that, you’re not going to stay!”

Dumbstruck, Grantaire gaped at him. Enjolras filled the awkward silence by gathering some logs, occupying his hands.

“But… I want to see you,” Grantaire said. “All of you! Like… not in a creepy way but… I want to learn to know you. The dumb human you. What if I like him?”

“What if you don’t?”

Grantaire took a step forward, assessing Enjolras’ reactions.

“I thought I was supposed to be the cynic here. Can you at least give us a try?”

He held out his hand to Enjolras, who took it shyly.

“I can do that, yeah.”

Procrastination in 10 Ways [pt. 2]: Memory Lane

Part << Prologue // 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // Epilogue >>


Summary: Leaving him was something you should’ve but didn’t do. Loving you with all his heart was something he should’ve but didn’t do. When two procrastinators such as you guys meet and fall in love, you should’ve known the end was coming. And when the end did arrive, you should’ve known that it wasn’t really the final conclusion.

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader (you)

Genre: angst, possibly fluff later on idk hmu

Word Count: 2654

A/N: gahh im sorry for the long wait, i was gonna update yesterday but i got distracted >.< i hope it’s worth it !! p.s. I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS FOR NEW SERIES IM SO EXCITED ASFDGJLFHK PLS LOOK FORWARD TO THEM. FEEDBACK APPRECIATED


“Jimin-ah, you have to forget me.”

“I can’t”


“I’m married.”

Everything in Jimin’s world seemed to come to a screeching halt, and the low hum in his head from the alcohol exploded into a roaring cacophony, the mass of swinging bodies blending into one another in his peripherals. Your face came in and out of focus before his eyes, and he suddenly felt nauseated. Swinging unstably, he felt your cool fingers grip his arms firmly as he threatened to collapse.

“What?”

“I’m married, Park Jimin.”

He heard those words flow out of your mouth again, about as innocent as a forceful shove against his windpipe. He watched the sentence form on your lips, and listened to the vibrations of your voice bring that fact to life, yet it still seemed so surreal, so impossible that you had moved on from him, leaving him standing alone, helpless, in his memories and hopes. Yet everything, the ring, your surprise to see him, pointed to the truth that you now belonged to another man.

You spoke again as his face morphed into an ashy tone, “Jimin, are you okay? You look a little pal–”

Before you could finish your question, Jimin hunched over and vomited on the floor before your feet, making you jumped back instinctively from the pungent spray of alcohol and whatever he had for lunch.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, and Jimin stumbled sideways a few steps away from you, swaying dangerously close to the mess on the floor. To restrain him from embarrassing himself any further, you grabbed at his sleeve, taking a fistful of the material and pulling him up.

But Jimin reacted violently to your touch, ripping himself from your grasp quickly,  “Let me go! You shouldn’t touch me, what would your husband think?” he questioned, eyes wide as if he had just committed a felony. Then the alcohol took over his body again in another wave as he lurched forward again and gagged.

“Stop saying that!” you ordered, and reached for him, this time holding onto his hand, the calluses on his palms rough and familiar. “You’re drunk! We’re taking you home.”

Jimin didn’t reply, but only grumbled a string of words you couldn’t make out clearly. You took that as him vaguely giving you permission to rescue him from the chaos, and guided him away from the bar. You tried to not acknowledge the lingering gazes as you propped him on your shoulder, weighing you down significantly. Leading him out the club entrance, you waved a hand at the bartender and smiled apologetically as you asked her clean up the mess.

Stepping out into the humid August night, you wrinkled your nose as the stench of bile and vomit radiated off of him. You trotted rapidly towards your car with Jimin staggering behind you like a disobedient puppy, pulling against your grip and whining the entire way down the bustling streets of Seoul. As the shiny white body of your car slowly materialized into view, you unlocked the doors and shoved his now tired body inside, then quickly crossing over towards the drivers side. Settling down behind the steering wheel, you casted a slanted glance at Jimin beside you, who was slumped into the passenger seat, eyes shut and lips slightly agape with light slumber. You sighed exasperatedly and placed your forehead on the steering wheel in defeat.

Your phone suddenly beeped, and the screen lit up with a new text message.

Yoongi <3:

When are you coming home, honey? I miss you ): And what do you want for dinner??

Groaning loudly, you suddenly remembered that you had promised your husband that you guys would enjoy a lovely couple dinner tonight. Forcing your brain to work at its top speed, you attempted to create other solutions for sending Jimin home. Maybe you could call a taxi for him? But Jimin isn’t even conscious enough to speak, how will he pay and drag himself out of the vehicle after they arrive? Or perhaps you could get a friend to take him? No, that’s ridiculous, they don’t even know him. And if they do, certainly they will notify Yoongi that you were with Jimin, and, strangely, that was the last thing you wished to happen. As each plan you managed to conjure up was quelled by something that could go wrong, you glared at Jimin’s unconscious figure besides you, gaze so heated that it seemed to be able to burn a hole through his skin. Out of all days, you had to show up today.

But deciding that you had no better choice, you typed on the vibrant screen unwillingly.

To: Yoongi <3,

Sorry, baby ): Something suddenly came up at work. Order something and eat without me. So sorry again… love you

You leaned against the headrest of your seat, desperately trying to think of some way to compensate Yoongi later, but drawing up blank. Frustration coursed through your veins as your phone sounded again.

Yoongi <3:

Okay… I hope it’s not too bad. Don’t stress yourself out, I’ll save you some food.

You stared out the front glass of your car at the night sky, its deep hue enveloping the noisy city, trying to grasp in your head what had made you choose Jimin over Yoongi, your husband, to devote your time to tonight, and why you didn’t have enough courage to tell Yoongi the truth. He had been your emotional fortress ever since your divorce. He cared for you when you couldn’t muster up enough motivation to even complete the simple task of eating, and made sure you were doing well, that you had a sufficient amount of fresh fruit in your fridge and that your clothes were warm enough. Most importantly, while others looked at you as a woman who was incompetent to even keep her own marriage alive, Yoongi couldn’t care less what your history was. All he knew was that he loved you and that would suffice for him. As you sulked in the upholstery of the driver’s seat, guilt gnawed at you, turning and twisting your insides uncomfortably. Shaking away the thoughts that grappled at your conscious, you plugged the key into the slot and turned on the the ignition.

The street lights along road casted a orange glow on Jimin’s features, and you had to gather up everything in your being to keep yourself from getting distracted by him and focus on the wide roads ahead. He looked older, more mature, than the last time you had seen him almost a year ago. Perhaps that was because he had just been fighting with you then. Maybe it was because he had chosen another woman over you even though he swore his faithfulness to you at the alter. You tried your best to ignore the memories that were starting to replay before your mind’s eye and gripped the steering wheel more firmly.

Weaving through the endless traffic and lines of vehicles, you abruptly remembered that you had no idea where you were taking Jimin or where he lived. Letting an irritated exhale escape your lips, you elbowed Jimin a bit.

“Yah, Park Jimin.”

“Mmm,” he hummed and shifted in his seat, his head now leaning against the car windows.

“Where do you live? Give me the address.”

Jimin turned his face towards the direction of your voice, although still refusing to open his eyes, and mumbled a string of barely detectable words. “548 Orchard St. It’s in this city.”

Where the hell is that?


“Yah, Park Jimin, did you gain weight?”

You gritted your teeth together as you struggled to lift him on your petite shoulders, a cacophony of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the narrow staircase as he clumsily climbed up the steps with your aid, his head lolling onto your shoulder. You had thought that after finally finding your way through the maze of streets that fortified Jimin’s apartment, you would be able to easily drop him off in his apartment and head back to your own little haven. But much to your dismay, you found yourself confronted with a looming ten story residential building, his unit being on the topmost floor of course, and a broken elevator.

Bending over to catch your breath, you glanced at Jimin, whose arm was swung your shoulder and face pink with the tinge of alcohol. You then checked the door number of the apartment before you to make sure it matched with the one he told you. It did.

“Where are your keys?”

Jimin managed a drunken grumble and patted his jacket pocket, and you reached into the fabric to retrieve it. The door clicked open with a satisfying click as you turned the lock, and you stumbled inside.

Kicking your shoes at the door, you weren’t quite sure what to expect as you slipped into the rather spacious room, but you knew that you certainly didn’t expect it to be arranged in exactly the same way as the small house you had shared with him during your marriage. Slightly taken back by the similarity, you shuffled slowly towards a large window, inclining forward to examine the various photo frames standing on the white windowsill. Your own face smiled back at you from behind the glass covers, radiating off a kind of happiness that you had forgotten Jimin was capable to triggering in you. You also observed the Jimin’s face in those photographs, and in every of them he was gazing at you, as if completely mesmerized by your presence, your smile. You had not seen those pictures in such long time that you had nearly forgotten they existed, or when you took them, or what the context of those photos were. They used to be spread out throughout your previous house, and seeing them once again triggered a strange, fuzzy feeling in your chest. But it also saddened you a bit to see that Jimin had not thrown them away yet.

A tired cough erupted from Jimin’s lips, and you suddenly felt his weight on his shoulders again as you were snapped out of your thoughts. Recalling the real reason you had come to his apartment, you straightened and turned away from the photographs. Spotting the nearest appropriate furniture to deposit Jimin on, which happened to be his couch, you limped over strenuously and flopped him down on the soft material. He groaned loudly as his body came in contact with the couch with a thud.

You left him on the furniture, trotting around the house in search for the kitchen. Upon discovering it tastefully decorated with modern designs and neatly aligned equipment, you filled a glass with water and brought it to the couch with careful steps as the liquid sloshed to and fro around the rim. Jimin was sprawled out, one leg dangling over the back of the furniture, sound asleep.

“Jimin-ah,” you shook his shoulder, and he stirred slightly, murmuring in response, but showed no signs of wanting to wake up. Sighing, you set the glass of water on the coffee table beside him and stared at his resting figure. His shirt was stained with vomit, and deep creases overtook the starchy white material. Seeing that you had already come so far, it couldn’t hurt to retrieve a clean change of clothes for him right? So despite all the objections from your brain, you padded your way to his bedroom.

His room was not much, consisting of nothing but a closet and a large bed covered in creamy white duvet. Sliding the heavy wooden doors aside, you cracked open a drawer in his closet, and gathered the first shirt you saw into your sore arms. Then, during your search for some comfortable pants for him to change into, you stumbled upon another unexpected sight.

You pinched the dark, worn fabric between your fingers and lifted it out of its storage place. The sweet perfume you used to favor still lingered on the material, although slightly masked by Jimin’s scent, which was still unchanged. Sinking down into a corner of his bed, you gawked at the old sweatshirt, and at Jimin’s inability to get rid of your memories. It wasn’t healthy for himself, or for you, to have him trapped in the past, not capable of pulling himself into reality and moving on, perhaps finding himself another girl who will make up for his lost time with you. You placed the sweater back, not wanting to see what other possessions of yours he had still not thrown away, and turned to trot back into the living room.

Jimin had woken up and was standing in his bedroom doorway, gaze unmoving from your back profile as you shut the drawer closed. You jumped at his sudden appearance, and placed a hand on your chest to calm your racing heart. He scanned your face warily, seeking for a reaction. Running your fingers through your hair, you sighed, profound and long.

“Why did you not throw them away?”

He bowed his head and allowed his weight to be supported by the door frame a bit more, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes, his head pounding agonizingly from the alcohol.

“I couldn’t.” was all he could choke out.

You closed the distance between your bodies until you were only inches apart, and your warm breath fanned his face. Pushing the pile of clean clothes from your arms into his, you whispered, voice low and firm, “Jimin-ah, you have to forget me.”

Tears began to well up in his eyes, and you watched as he squeezed his eyes closed, praying to whatever greater being out there that when he opened them again everything would vanish like a dream, that you would still be with him, that you guys never divorced. But to his utter disappointment, when his eyelids eased apart, you were still staring at him sympathetically, hand resting on his shoulders as an attempt to comfort him.

“I can’t.”

“Try harder. It will be alright in the end, I promise. Go out and meet some new people, socialize. You can’t do this to yourself, Jimin-ah. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

You examined his face, his expression wavering a tiny bit as your words tried to sway his feelings. He knew that he should do exactly as you say, make new friends, fall in love, get married to someone else. But it all seemed meaningless, negligible, for his heart was still calling out for the one person he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, approach.

“It hurts. But I still can’t do it.”

Your heart dropped, and it ached for the vulnerable man, boy, who stood before you, having been tormented by you involuntarily for the past year. But you couldn’t do anything for him, no matter how much you wanted him to wake up from this useless dream, to snap back into reality. So the only and best thing you could do was leave.

Pushing past him, you paced across the apartment to the door, stepping into your shoes. Against his better discretion, Jimin followed you, and as you pulled the door open to depart, he reached out his hand and grabbed your wrist, keeping you back.

“Can’t you stay a little while longer?”

You glanced at his desperate expression, almost having an childlike innocence, as he gripped you, eyes begging. And you almost obliged.

But Yoongi’s face flashed before your eyes, and you remembered how it felt when his smile could practically melt you into pieces, and the way he held you on sleepless nights when your insomnia kicked in, rocking you in his arms until your eyelids grew heavy. You recalled that night after your wedding when Yoongi tenderly caressed your face, the covers pulled up to your shoulders, and vowed that he would cherish you for as long as he shall live, the way Jimin should’ve but failed to do. You pried Jimin’s fingers gingerly from your wrist.

“Sorry, I have to go. My husband’s waiting.”


Part << Prologue // 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // Epilogue >>

[Twitter] Sashihara Rino 2014.02.22 18:31

HKTのメンバーとご飯をたべてたらそこにぱるるがやってきて一緒に食べてました。HKTメンバーがっつきすぎてぱるる若干ひいてた。笑 でもいーちゃん(ぱるるの左)のナチュラル酒焼け風の声をきいて爆笑してた。いーちゃんナイス。 

When I’m having meal with HKT’s members, Paruru came and we ate together. HKT’s member surrounded her a little to much and Paruru was kinda taken aback. laughs But, when she heard Iichan’s voice (Paruru’s left) that sounds like someone who has too much drink (alcohol), she exploded with laughter. Iichan nice.

The JabberWocky || Jacob&Sophie

Jacob went far earlier to practice than he would normally that weekend. He knew that he wouldn’t be doing his normal lazy practice today. He got there early, a large block of flammable molding material in his bag. He used a lot of things in his performance, a lot of exploding powders and alcohols for special effects. The strange clay was used to make large flaming objects appear when they caught fire. He didn’t question the materials they’d given him to do the show when he’d started, but he only barely understood their properties. Either way they would work for him today.

He sat cross legged in the center of the round stage in the middle of the large tent structure, the seats surrounding the platform in a circular fashion. A pouch hooked around his waist held his materials, a water bottle full of fifty percent alcohol, a lighter, and his one ended fire rod. He began to shape the flammable material into small dragons as he waited for Sophie. He was going to try a new story today.