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#anyway every moment i spend with my friends has claw marks in it. im never going to let go
thursdaygirlmp3 · 6 months
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hey.... the time you spend with your friends will be a faint but cherished memory in ten years...and not all of us will be so lucky so as to get to reconnect with the people we love who drift out of our lives. if i have laughed with you you will always have a place in my heart
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sunshine--writes · 3 years
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Blood Bound
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header image courtesy of one of the biggest Lady Dimitrescus simps i’ve ever met.
This is the first and last time i will ever write anything so be prepared. Also i’m not the best writer so some parts might be very rushed and sloppy sorry. Idk how to post on tumblr either and also i’m on mobile so sorry for weird formatting issues :)
A little background I wrote this as a presentation thing with my friends so it’s not gonna be good. Also this is the first time i’ve ever written smut so sorry i guess?
Warnings: NSFW of course, uh very kinky probably, swears in this warning, f! Reader, reader is a vampire pls let me have this, IT MAKES SENSE FOR THE STORY PLEASE LET ME HAVE THIS, vampires need sleep i guess idk just fuck let me live, fluff at the end bc im a whore for that kinda shit, probably ooc for Lady Dimitrescu but like idk her character other than dom mommy milkers so, blindfolds, binding arms? what is it called??
All of your senses returned to you very slowly. You didn’t know where you were, or why someone had taken you in the middle of the night, but for some reason you felt safe. You could feel the cold damp floor of the cell you could only presume you were in and you could smell rotting flesh and the wet metal that surrounded you. You could hear the dripping noises of falling water coming from somewhere in front of you, and the sound of footsteps slowly approaching. The only sense you never regained was your sight. You could feel the soft fabric that covered your eyes and made a reasonable guess that your host for the evening had blindfolded you.
“Have you awoken my darling?” Ah, speak of the devil. The person that belonged to that sultry voice was one Lady Dimitrescu -- the countess that you have met with several times before and every encounter has somehow ended the same way. You remember the first time you met the 9 foot tall woman. It was 1920, and as the child of a wealthy eastern european count, you were required to attend the galas that were thrown. During one such occasion you happened to run into Lady Dimitrescu, and had unfortunately uncovered her secret. At the first sign of danger a normal person would have run, but who were you to judge? After all, aren't you two essentially the same?
That was the first night, and the begging of a long mutual relationship between the two of you. A whirlwind of passion, anger, misery, and lust was the only way you could describe these past decades you have spent with her. Everytime you left her embrace, you couldn’t help but long to be in it again no matter how angry you were. This on again off again relationship had persisted through generations, and you would be damned if you would give up now. She had introduced you to your friends who had shared the same beliefs, and made you feel welcomed. She had been there during the downfall of your family's power, and she was there for every milestone. You had to admit, your life was tied to this woman if you had liked it or not. Every night you spent apart was agony, and every moment you spent together was bliss. You have eternity, so what's the use in spending anymore time apart?
This night felt different. It wasn't normal for her to seek out your company, so why has she all of a sudden? And since when has she been this gentle? If it was like any other night she would have already had her way with you and thrown you to the side. Tonight was definitely different.
“My dear turn towards me.” She demanded, and you obeyed, crawling your way to the direction you think she might be in. You found her in the corner of what you think is a cell. You could tell she was sitting in a chair so you sat on your knees in front of her.
“Ah, isn’t this better darling? Everything is as it should be.” You could hear the sound of her claws extending -- and then you felt as she dragged the nail across your cheek, across your lips, and down to your chin.
“My love, head up. This way I can see your beautiful face.” She spoke as she lifted your head with her sharp claw. “Ah this beautiful face, the one that has tormented my dreams for far too long. Isn’t this much better?” You nod, what does she mean tormented her dreams? Over these past years you understood that this relationship was not one out of love, so you never gave yourself hope that she might feel the same as you. Even as her words sounded like a declaration of longing, you refused to dream. An intimate relationship with her, even one without love, was enough for you. As long as you could remain at her side for the rest of eternity you would be happy.
She sighed, “No matter, tonight is somewhat of a celebration, and as I am in a good mood I have sought you out. So where shall we start?” You hear the claw retreat back into her hand and her start to stand up, towering over you. “Lets get you out of these clothes hm?” She grabs you by the neck forcing your body down to the ground, cool gloved hands start roaming all over your body, loosening and untying the thin clothes you wore to sleep that night. “Ah beloved, how I had missed this.” Her mouth descended onto your neck where you could feel the warmth of her saliva as she sucked on that tender spot. You whimpered, moving closer into the bigger woman, although this isn't the first time she has marked you like this, it still sends tingles down your spine. Your hands started to roam as Lady Dimitrescu moved her way from your neck to your chin, and finally to your mouth: enveloping you in a deep kiss. Your back arched to be closer to the woman on top, deepening the kiss. You could taste the reminisce of blood and the sweet wine she had been brewing for years. Tonight really was an important celebration. You couldn’t control yourself as both of your bodys moved in tandem, your hands moving down her back.
She pulled away, leaving you gasping for air, “Now now my dear, you know the rules. No touching without permission. Now let's get these hands out of the way hm?” You could feel as the warmth from her body moved away, leaving you semi-naked on the cold floor. You couldn’t tell where she had gone, nor how long she was gone for -- every minute without her felt like agony anyway.
Her footsteps finally came back, “On your knees,” she demanded, and you moved without hesitation. “Both arms behind you.” Again you moved without thinking, obeying every word. You could feel as some soft fabric was slowly wrapped around both of your wrists and then tied, you could guess that it was the same silk as the one around your eyes.
“There, isn't that better darling? Now lay back down, I will loosen you up.” A claw extended and you felt as the rest of your already loose clothes were torn off, including your slick underwear. “Hm?” she laughed, “Already ready for me?”
“Yes mistress.” you nodded, spreading your legs slightly.
“Darling you know I love it when you call me that.” Gloved hands traced their way from your neck, to your breasts, down your stomach, and finally rested on your thighs. “Hm? What should I do darling? Shall we continue?”
“Yes mistress.” You begged, wiggling your body hoping for her hand to end up in that place you wanted it. You begged for her to give you release, begged for the thing you missed the most over these years.
“Hm? Shall I grant you your requests? Maybe you should beg some more first.” Her hands suddenly moved, finding their way back up to your breasts, hands playing with your nipples. You squirmed, wishing that the woman would give you what you wanted.
“Please mistress,” you begged, pushing yourself onto her thigh. Your cries fell on def ears as she continued to play with you. You started grinding on her thigh, pleading with your mistress to take you. “Please Lady Dimitrescu, please help me.”
You felt her hot hands finally leave your chest, “Fine, I shall grant this one request to you my beloved.” Suddenly you felt a gloved finger push its way inside you, forcing itself deeper in, her other hand went back to playing with your breasts. You gasped, moaning as she started moving around slowly inside. You tried to move yourself down onto her hand, allowing sweet relief. Her unoccupied hand made its way up to your neck and she started choking you.
Her tempo picked up as another finger made its way inside. The sounds coming out of you were ungodly, she had you crying out in pleasure. “Do you like that my dear?” she called out from on top of you. You could only nod your head and cry out something akin to the word yes. She was moving even faster and you could feel the pressure inside of you about to explode, you begged your mistress to please release you, but she wouldn’t budge moving faster than she had ever moved before. You were moaning and screaming in pleasure, you silently thanked whoever was up there that you were in a castle otherwise you would probably have a noise complaint by now. Her movements had you writhing around, grasping for anything with your bound hands. You brought your legs and wrapped them around her, opening yourself up for her. You were desperately grinding against her hand, your walls tightening before you could come.
“Eager now aren't we, well my love shall I let you come?” Although you were blindfolded you could see her smirking face. You called out between moans, crying for her to let you. You were begging and pleading, you must have looked so pitiful but in that moment you wished for nothing more than to come undone by this woman's hands.
“Lets see how loud you can be.” You felt your walls close down on the fingers inside of you as you screamed out in pleasure, the pressure finally being released. You could feel your juices coming out as orgasms wracked through your body. The pleasure was too much for you to handle and before you knew it you passed out.
***
You awoke in a very comfortable bed, the feel of the satin sheets under you cooled your body and sent shivers all over. You had realized that both the blindfold and your arm restraints were gone, and your body had been cleaned up from last night's activities. You were wearing a thin nightgown that only accentuated how cold it was in this room. As you looked around you finally saw the face of the sleeping woman next to you. Strange, you had never awoken next to her, no matter how vigorous the previous night's activities were she always left before you woke up. You giggled quietly to yourself, last night must have been a special night indeed. You saw sunlight streaming in from the large windows on the northern wall of this bedroom casting itself onto her. She had never looked more beautiful in your long life. You reached out your hand and started softly stroking the woman's face and hair, careful not to wake her. You traced your way from her forehead down to her lips, pausing there slightly. Last night was different, it wasn't bad, it was in fact very good. It was just something you never thought would happen for the both of you. As you look at the face of sleeping Lady Dimitrescu in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would be like if you two had a different kind of relationship. Your thoughts were cut short when you felt two arms snake their way around you and suddenly you were pulled into the woman's arms.
“What are you doing awake so early my little dove? You should rest some more, last night must have been very taxing on your body.” Lady Dimitrescu spoke. You were shocked to say the least. Over the decades you have known the Countess, you have never been in her arms like this. This is what you had dreamt of for so long, wanting to feel true, romantic love from this woman, and now that you are here you felt as if you could cry.
And cry you did. Before you could stop yourself you felt the tears falling down your face and onto the clothes of the woman holding you.
“My beloved what is wrong?” Lady Dimitrescu frantically spoke as she tried to wipe the tears out of your eyes, “What is the matter? Please tell me.”
“It’s truly nothing,” you finally croaked out after minutes of sobbing. You must have looked ridiculous like this. How could you really think that she would love you like you love her. You are nothing compared to her.
“If you are crying then of course something is wrong. Please tell me darling, I hate to see you so sad.”
You hesitated. Was it really alright to tell her the thoughts that have plagued you for generations? You didn’t want things to change between the two of you. Even if you were just treated as a play thing, as long as you could stay with her you would do anything. “I love you. I have loved you for years, and you will never reciprocate how I feel. I am nothing to you other than a toy you can throw away at a moment's notice. But still I wish to stay by your side, even If I am nothing other than that. Don’t let my feelings change our relationship. I only want to stay with you.” The tears came back but you wouldn’t let them fall. You were stronger than that.
You felt her hold on you tighten as she brought you closer to her, lips brushing over your forehead and over your eyes. Her mouth moved around your face, kissing away your tears.
“Beloved who ever said I never felt the same way?”
to those liking this at 2 am: 📸📸📸
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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years
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Love Me Less
A/n: This was up on Patreon a week before I posted it here, I release fics around a week early over there and have some Patreon exclusive drabbles, fanart, so feel free to check it out at my Patreon. Commissions are also always open. I’m going to be doing profiles and such for characters here too, so stay tuned!
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Summary: Jimin is an undercover cop, and you know he’s lying to you. But he’s trapped in a huge mess, and he doesn’t want you in the crossfire. Multifandom Mafia AU (BTS, EXO, Got7)
Warnings: Some violence, mention of drug use, angst
Word Count: 2892
Jimin winces when the door shuts too loudly, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re sitting at the kitchen table and there’s a bag packed by your feet and his heart sinks to his toes. Suddenly he’s so tired he can barely hold his head up, and you’re looking at him warily and he can’t help thinking about how this all started.
Jimin couldn’t help but notice you bartending at this little place near the freeway, a dive bar called the Dirty Dozen and owned by Min Yoongi, who was well known for playing all sides of the game, letting certain gangs drink free depending on who owned the area that month. He’d been trying to blend in, trying to be just another thug ordering soju from you, but he couldn’t help catching your eyes when you brought him a drink in these little cut off shorts, asking you about the tattoo on the long line of your thigh.
It’s second nature, flirting with a bartender, especially one that looks like you, and your easy smile made the two years he’d already been undercover seem just a little bit lighter. It’s fun and casual and easy, and he tells himself it’s just for intel, buying you soju so that your tongue gets looser, maybe you’ll slip out something about Kim Yugyeom since he was always hanging around you at the bar.
A month later, he has a drawer at your apartment and he’s spending four nights a week there, barely making it out of the house to meet with Namjoon and Hoseok because he just can’t stop kissing your upturned mouth.
Hoseok gives him a wary look the sixth time he shows up with your nude lipstick on his collar, and throws a few pictures on the interrogation table. Jimin only glances at them, sees they’re mostly of you with those long thighs draped over his lap at the bar, and looks up at Hoseok expectantly.
“What? You gonna tell me you never got some strange while undercover?”
Hoseok shrugs, sits down across from him, slumped in the chair a bit, legs spread wide.
“Sure. But that’s not what this is, and we both know it.”
Jimin leans back in his chair, smirking a little, putting his hands behind his head. He hasn’t even seen Jung in a couple of months, not since he’d given him the poke and stick “Nevermind” across his ribs, telling him if he’d be telling people that he’d done time, no one would ever believe he got away without a mark.
“It’s not? You know something I don’t?”
“I know you’re spending an awful lot of time at her place.”
Jimin shrugs. “That Yugyeom kid from the Im gang is sweet on her. Sometimes he tells her stuff.”
“Yeah? You think he’ll keep doing that after you threw him up against the bar wall last night?” Hoseok says, deadpan, and Jimin laughs a bit.
“What can I say? I’ve always been a bit territorial.”
“Just tell me you aren’t getting too deep, Jiminie,” Hoseok says, softly, and Jimin loses his smile, sighs and places his forearms on the table.
“Maybe I am. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell, Seok. At first it was just a pretty smile and long legs and intel, but now… I’ve been in this what? 18 months now? It’s easy enough to believe a street kid from Busan chose a different path. Hell, sometimes I believe it myself.”
Namjoon comes in, then, with a huge file, and Hoseok groans.
“Fun’s over. Christ, look at that paperwork.”
“It’s good news,” Namjoon promises, throwing it down on the table with a thud. He looks as if he’d had one too many late nights, his white button up wrinkled and stained with coffee, hair mussed and too long at the collar.
"Good news?" Hoseok looks skeptical.
Namjoon slides a photograph out of the file and flashes them at Jimin.
"This is your girl, yeah?"
Jimin stiffens a bit. It's you, all right, piggybacking on this muscle pig's back, he'd recognize those legs anywhere.
He nods. "Who's the beefcake?"
"Lee Hoseok. He was high up in Hyunwoo's crew until he went ghost a couple of months ago. Everyone thought he was dead along with Hyunwoo, but turns out both of them have been in lock up over in Daegu. Turned themselves in, been ratting out all their friends for weeks. We just got the file."
Jimin groans. "So you're telling me the crew I've been trying to bust for a fucking year and a half just rolled over? Just like that?"
"Just like that," Namjoon agrees, but he's rifling in the file again and Jimin knows there's more.
He slides a photograph across the table to Jimin.
Jimin looks it over curiously. The guy is tall, lean but his suit is expertly tailored and there are muscles there, for sure. His first undercover stint had been in an underground fight club and he hadn't broken the habit of sizing people up. Probably not too strong, but fast, likely, well balanced. His hands look manicured so he probably didn't get his hands dirty, and that suit…
"New player? Family ties, I'd guess?"
Namjoon nods. "Good eye. He's Kim Junmyeon's cousin, and mostly we'd dismissed him because he stays quiet, to himself. Lately he's been seen with Do and Zhang, though, and the rumor is that he's up to take over for Kim."
"He looks young," Jimin muses. He's handsome, full mouth, charming smile.
"He's only a few years older than you. We'd expected Minseok for next in line but he's been in the spotlight so much, been arrested five times this year. This kid... Jongin... he's clean. No record at all."
Jimin throws the photograph down on the table. "What's this got to do with me?"
"Turns out he drinks at your girl's bar. Not only that, Min says he tips double when she serves him."
Jimin frowns. "Min's giving intel again?"
Hoseok snorts. "Yoongi would sell out his own mother for a few thousand won."
Namjoon nods, his eyes going wide and bright like he gets when he's chasing something.
"Your girl has all the connects. She used to live with this Lee Hoseok and now someone from Im's crew and Jongin have the hots for her? You've gotta stick with her."
"She's popular," Hoseok grins, and Jimin wants to punch him in his perfect teeth.
"So you brought me in to tell me to use my girlfriend for intel?"
"Oh, she's your girlfriend now?" Hoseok teases, but Jimin ignores him.
"She's got ties to three of the major players in Seoul, Jimin. You know how to pick em."
Jimin leaves soon after, popping the collar of his leather jacket against the wind. He's pissed off, having them tell him to stay with you as if he'd ever had any intention of leaving.
Hoseok was right. He'd been in over his head since the moment you'd smiled at him and now that he knew you lived and worked in a snake's den, it made panic claw up his throat to think that he couldn't protect you.
First, Kim Yugyeom with his predator's eyes and wolf's smile and now the fucking future head of the Kim crew?
Jaebeom and Hyunwoo were small potatoes compared to Kim, dabbling in carjacking and marijuana mostly.
Kim had his fingers in all the pies, heroin and cocaine smuggling, black market guns, whores, every crime you could think of, they were committing...and most of them got away clean.
Only a couple of them even had records and it was for petty shit like battery or simple assault.
Jimin would have stayed with you anyway because of the way he felt waking up with your long leg looped over his hip, the way you'd grumble and tuck your face into his neck in the mornings.
But now? He had to make sure you were safe, no matter what that meant for him.
It's less than a month later when everything falls apart for Jimin, and he can't tell you a single word of it.
Jimin manages to track this low level crew boss, a foreign kid, not even 21, goes by Lucas to an opium den.
He catches him outside the abandoned building, has the arrest warrant based on pictures and intel already. There's no one in the alley so Jimin cuffs him on the spot as he whines in protest. Then he hears a familiar verse and drops the kid on the ground, cursing.
"Well well well," Yugyeom drawls. "Park Jimin the piglet. I can't fucking believe it."
"Don't fucking try me, Kim. I could bust you right now."
"Bet you won't. Bet you won't want that pretty little thing of yours knowing how clean you really are, yeah? She wouldn't like you as much."
Yugyeom is grinning, eyes glassy from alcohol or weed or god knows what and he's getting closer to Jimin.
"Don't-" Jimin warns, already instinctively spreading his legs, in a fighting stance while barely realizing it.
"Baby likes it dirty," Yugyeom continues. "She likes to slum it, I should know."
Jimin's hands are itching to clock him, right on the chin because Yugyeom isn't protecting himself at all, too drunk or stupid to block, but he waits for him to get closer.
Yugyeom is tall and lean, has a higher center of gravity and the closer he gets the better, and they always do, the tall ones, think because they tower over Jimin they have the advantage.
But they're easy, always go high, swing wide without protecting their middle and when Yugyeom swings, Jimin ducks and punches him in the gut, a sharp jab that takes the younger man's breath.
While he's gasping for air, doubled over, Jimin grabs him, swings him around and puts a knee in his lower back, taking him to the ground easily.
Yugyeom is still laughing and Jimin presses down on the back of his neck, grinding his face into the gravel.
Lucas is staring wide eyed at them, having turned over on his side, but Jimin ignores him.
"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Jimin growls, and Yugyeom's snorts, blood spurting from his nose when Jimin presses down harder.
"Now I get to do whatever I want. You can't fucking touch me."
Jimin's heart sinks and he hauls them both into the station but of course, Yugyeom is right, he sings like a canary and now he's an informant and Jimin can't touch him with a ten foot pole.
Now instead of shoving him into the bar wall for palming your ass when he slips a tip into your back pocket, Jimin has to grit his teeth and ignore it.
Jimin buys a ring after nine months, keeps it in a sock in his underwear drawer because he can't get down on one knee when he's lying to you.
He starts to drink more than he should, stays out too late because he can't bear to come home and lie to you about where he's been.
The third or fourth night he gets home and you're already asleep, you wake when he plops down clumsily on the bed, turning over and trailing your hand across his chest.
"Baby," you murmur. "What's wrong?"
There's something stuck in his throat, all the secrets he's been keeping from you and he snakes an arm around you, squeezing you tight.
He can't bear to say "nothing" because that'd just be another lie so he tugs you on top of him and kisses you silent.
When he's got you flipped onto your back, buried inside you, he says the one thing he can, the one truth he can tell you, over and over.
"I love you, jagi. You know I love you, yeah?"
But of course, love isn't enough.
He ends up here anyway, with you looking at him with hollow, wary eyes.
"Jagi-" he starts, but you cut him off.
"Is there someone else?" You ask, your voice low and shaking.
Jimin scoffs. He's barely noticed other women even exist since you'd come into his life, but when he puts himself in your shoes, he supposes it isn't a far stretch.
"Not since the moment you smiled at me, jagi," he says earnestly, and your face softens.
"Then what is it? What's going on?"
You stand up, come around the table to wrap your arms around his waist and Jimin wants so badly to tell you everything, to pour out all the secrets that burn like acid in his throat.
"You're leaving me," is all he can choke out, his voice hoarse, and you sigh and rest your forehead against his chest.
"I don't want to," you admit, locking your hands at his back.
"Then don't. Jagi. Y/n. Please don't."
You shake your head against his chest and Jimin's heart cracks right down the middle when you look up at him, tears standing in your eyes.
"All you have to do is tell me the truth."
His throat works and you sniffle.
"Jiminie...please. I don't care what it is. We'll work it out just...just tell me."
He feels tears rolling down his face and he doesn't bother to stop them.
"Please," he pleads, and you release him, put a hand on your suitcase and Jimin wants to rip it from you, throw it across the room but all he can do is stand there and watch you, a sob catching in his chest.
He can't watch you leave, stands with his back to you, and when he hears the door close behind you, quiet and anticlimatic, something inhuman rips from his chest and he grabs onto the back of the dining room chair when his knees give out.
Jimin lets himself wallow, turning off his phone so that he doesn't call to beg you to come home, crying into your pillow because it smells like your shampoo, going only as far as the corner store to replenish the soju he replaces all his meals with.
It's Hoseok that finally nearly breaks down his door and Jimin stumbles to the door and jerks him inside, rubbing at the stubble on his chin and blinking at him blearily.
Hoseok looks around at the bottles of soju littering the table and Jimin gives him a look.
"Don't, Jung."
Jimin expects him to berate him, tell him he was stupid for falling in love and losing all their intel, but he doesn't.
Hoseok just puts a hand on his shoulder, pulls him into a hug, and Jimin can't stop the tears that are always so close to the surface.
After Jimin is sniffling instead of sobbing and Hoseok has gathered all the bottles to throw in the garbage, he sits down at the kitchen table.
"Jimin...I came to tell you something."
"Fuck," Jimin mumbles, rubbing a hand across his face and taking a long sip of the glass of water Hoseok had brought him.
Hoseok nods. "Jongin is spending four nights a week at the Dirty Dozen."
"Let me guess," Jimin says tiredly. "Only the nights Y/n works."
"Bingo. Joon has been going in your absence, he's gotten close to the other bartender. Y/n is living with her and Joon says…" Hoseok pauses and Jimin drops his forehead to the table.
"Just spit it out, Jung." He says miserably, keeping his head on the table.
"Joon says Y/n went home with Jongin a couple nights ago."
Jimin had been bracing himself for what his friend would say next but he hadn't been prepared for this, how it took the very breath from his lungs.
"No," he wheezes through the pinhole that has become his throat. "No, he's wrong, it's only been a couple of days, she wouldn't-"
"You've been mia over two weeks, Jimin," Hoseok says softly.
Jimin gasps in a breath, lifts his head.
"We've got an unmarked car following her. We'll watch out for her, you don't have to-"
Jimin barks out a bitter laugh. "Shut up. Just shut up, Seok. Of course I do."
Hoseok sighs and nods. "I told Joon you'd say that. Word of advice?'
Jimin looks at him.
"Shower first."
So Jimin ends up right back where he started, sitting at a table at the back of The Dirty Dozen breathing in the fog of tobacco smoke and the errant joint, watching you walk toward him with a bottle of soju and a shot glass.
"Hey," he says dumbly, and you give him a ghost of your easy smile that makes his heart skip.
"Hey, Jiminie. Long time no see."
You pout the shot and go to leave but Jimin takes your wrist.
"Ah, leave the bottle."
You frown at him, and he wants to tell you he has to stay a certain level of drunk so that he doesn't beg you to come home, break down when Jongin inevitably shows up and arrest him the second he smiles at you, to keep the steady ache in his chest just numb enough.
You leave the bottle, though, going back behind the bar, and sure enough, Jongin has already slipped in while Jimin was distracted, leaning across the bar with a big smile.
Jimin takes in a shaky breath and downs the shot, thinking he had a lot of long nights ahead of him.
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