i spent way too long typing this no one told me it would take a long time dammit

The Hunt

Part 2.

 Claire leaned against her pale blue Hudson, a cigarette half forgotten between her fingers. It was well past midnight, her trench’s collar turned up against the unforgiving chill of the night. She needed to get ahead of the police, and for that, she needed what they knew to be going on with.

Her contact had sent word they’d meet her at their usual rendezvous. They were late though, and that made Claire more than a little antsy. She absently took a quick puff of her cigarette and glanced at her wristwatch - 12:34am. What’s taking you so bloody long? she thought irritably. She took one last puff and stomped out the cigarette under her heel. The night’s stillness finally broke as she heard the rumble of a car engine making it’s way toward her. Looking up, she saw dull headlights shine through the haze of fog and smoke. The car came to stop a few metres from her.

“Standing alone, in the dark, in some dingy corner for an hour, isn’t my idea of a well spent evening,” she said without preamble as her contact stepped out of their car.

“There have been some developments since last we spoke, Dr. Beauchamp,” he said, pulling his coat tighter about him.

“Don’t call me that. What’s happened?”

“Someone called the police claiming to have spotted Fraser heading north, deeper into the Highlands. We’ve been scrambling to get all roads leading out of Inverness cordoned off.”

“And was it? Fraser, I mean,” she said, pushing off her car, fear inexplicably shooting through her.

Seeing the cigarette butt on the ground by her feet, he said, “Thought you quit?”

“I did - have. Stop stalling, Grey, and just tell me what you know,” she said impatiently.

He sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Well, there’s only so much ‘Saw that big red-heided fecker on the news skulking aboot me ma’s bed ‘n breakfast. Dinna ken where he was going, but seemed right fashed, I’ll tell ye!’ gets you. We sent a couple of units to investigate, but came up with nothing. If he was there, he’d long been gone by the time we’d arrived.”

She smiled. By all accounts, Fraser was intelligent, he wouldn’t linger too long in one place. He also knew these lands like the back of his hand, cordoning off the roads would only slow him down, not stop him. “You know, John, for someone who’s lived in Scotland as long as you have, your attempt at a Scottish accent’s rather atrocious,” she said lightly.

“Yes well, I wouldn’t attempt it in a room full of them, that’s for sure,” he replied with a self-deprecating chuckle. He looked at her then, concern lining his face. “How’d you get involved in this, Dr- Claire? This isn’t your usual type of case by any means.”

She leaned back against her car and he slowly came to lean beside her. “His uncle came to see me this morning. I can’t quite explain it, but there’s something odd about this one, John. I believed his uncle when he said Fraser wouldn’t do this. I believed it even more when I saw the crime scene -” Grey looked indignant as he took a breath to say something, she quickly cut him off and continued, “- I know what you’re going to say, you don’t need to say it, dammit! But Fraser couldn’t have done this, John.”

She slowly told him everything she’d observed in the study earlier that night, explaining the blood splatter patterns, the angles and directionality. Grey patiently listened, taking in all she said, but doubt still flitted across his half hidden features.

“All that is plausible, and certainly the coroner’s report noted the acute angle of Randall’s initial wound, but… Perhaps Fraser was crouched before Randall and struck upwards in a backhanded motion. Could explain the patterns you saw?” He said watching her.

“Perhaps…” she said, “but here -” she said pulling at his sleeve so he stood in front of her. He was a few inches taller than her, just tall enough for what she needed to show him. She leaned in and pulled out her torch from the glove compartment of her car and handed it to him. “Here. Say you’re Fraser, and you’re coming up at Randall from a crouched position,” Grey looking at her dubiously, but complied and crouched before her. “Ok, now swing the torch at me, backhanded as you suggest.” Grey did as he was told, and the torch slowly came up and gently touched her just under the left side of her jaw. Grey looked surprised. “I’m willing to bet Randall’s head wound was around his temple, was it not?” He nodded. She took the torch from him and took him by the shoulders, straightening him up in front of her. “Now,” she said, a little too excited for Grey’s liking. “Say the assailant was shorter and right handed, as I suspect,” she brought the torch in a wide arc towards Grey’s head, the tip touching his temple, then gently pushing his head, extending the torch’s arc into a full swing. With her arm still outstretched, she looked at Grey who followed the path her arm had taken and knew he saw it more or less matched the angle of the blood on the Manse’s walls. “When someone whose heart is racing - adrenaline pumping through their system - gets a head wound of any sort, it bleeds far more than you’d believe. Even a small wound can look worse than it really is. And judging by the bedlam that’d broken loose in that study, Randall’s heart was definitely pumping. A well placed blow, even from a weaker assailant, could and did cause enough damage to turn the tide in their favor.”

Grey stood a moment, processing. “Why’d he run though? If Fraser had nothing to do with this. His fingerprints were on the murder weapon, for Christ’s sake!”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “but that’s why I have to get to him before anyone else does! He needs someone who’ll truly listen to him, and not just shoot and ask questions later.”

“Fraser doesn’t strike me as the type to come quietly. He will fight back, no matter who goes after him” Grey said darkly.

“He has his reasons,” Claire countered.

“You speak as if you know him,” Grey said, curiously. He could tell from the look on her face, her own adamance surprised her. “If you’re right, we’re hunting an innocent man.”

“I am. And you are,” she said.

“The Frasers once owned an estate somewhere not too far from Inverness,” he said quietly. Lallybroch, she thought immediately, the name floated to the surface of her memory, Fraser’s uncle had told her about it. “We’re working on the assumption Fraser is perhaps looking to go hide out in the ruins. Finding the location is our number 1 priority. I suggest you work faster.”

Grey made to move towards his car when she asked, “Do you have the name of the estate, by any chance?”

“Castle Leoch, according to local records. Belonged to his mother’s ancestors.”

Leoch? “To the north is it?” she said a little too casually.

“Yes,” Grey said, watching her. “Whatever you’ve just figured out, Beauchamp, work quickly. It won’t be long until we figure it out too.” He looked at her a moment longer, a sadness flitting across his face before he sighed and said, “Why do you always do this? Get attached so?”

“If I didn’t get attached, John, Hal would be dead,” she said, unable to meet his eye.

“And you’d still be a doctor,” he countered softly.

He made to get back into his car, when a thought occurred to her, “John,” she called and he half turned, jerking his chin at her. “Did you manage to question the eyewitness? The one who saw Fraser near the B&B?”

He shook his head, “No. We couldn’t find them and the innkeeper claimed her son to be working down in Newcastle.”

Claire turned so he wouldn’t see the smile that split her face. Sneaky bastard.


Claire drove furiously through the night. Murtagh had given her the directions she needed to get to Lallybroch within a few of hours, perhaps it’d be enough to reach Fraser before the police figured out he wasn’t heading north. And with Fraser’s diversion - for she had no doubt he was the one who made the call that sent the police scurrying north, while he ran south - she may have the head start she needed.

The sun had barely began to touch the horizon as she caught her first glimpse of the derelict Manor. Seeing it gave Claire her first stab of uncertainty. What if Fraser wasn’t here? What if she’d grossly miscalculated, misjudged the man she thought Fraser to be?

“The lad’s had his problems, but his dream ever since he was a wean, has always been to renovate his family’s estate,” she heard his Godfather say in memory. “His mother once painted Lallybroch as it once was and the lad has never been able to get the image out of his mind. Unfortunately, the only way he’d ever have the money to fix it up as he dreamed, would be to sell the property.”

“Catch 22,” Claire had said with a sad smile.

“Aye,” he’d replied quietly. “He’d go there, whenever he needed time away. Time to himself. He didna tell anyone save me and his Da. Sleeping in the ruins, picturing what it could be.” He’d looked at her then and sighed, “he isna a violent lad, he’s a hopeful one.”

The estate’s ruins came into full view as she crested up the finally corner, the dim grey light of dawn cast it in eerie, foggy shadows. Her car came to an unnaturally loud, grinding to a stop just feet from the stairs that led inside. Her fingers twitched towards her flip knife as she slowly got out of the car. If she was right about Fraser, she wouldn’t need it. Get a bloody grip, Beauchamp, there’s nothing to fear!

She was immediately swallowed by a dusty, dank darkness the moment she stepped inside. “Mr. Fraser,” she called tentatively moving gingerly further into the house. There was no answer, no sound but her crunching footfalls on the ages worth of debris. “Fraser,” she said more forcefully, as an unease began to settle in her bones. She felt, rather than saw, a swift rush of movement to her left, moments before a grimy hand clamped down hard on her mouth, yanking her head back and stifling the scream that caught in her throat, while another slowly, carefully, pushed sharp, bitingly cold steel to her exposed neck.

“I dinna ken who ye are,” a deep Scottish brogue hissed in her ear, “but ye’ve made one grave mistake coming here.”



Anonymous said: My birthday is Tuesday (the 8th) and I’m super broken up about it. My Husband is in another state, I’m not getting a present from my parental units and no one wants to eat cake with me… I’m looking forward to Tuesday at all. I’m very sad. Sad on the brink of doing something completely stupid because my depression can’t take this… Is there anyway you could write something happy and fluffy for me for my birthday? It honestly be the only present I’d get. Thank you.

A/N: I’m sorry you had such a bad birthday, hon, and also sorry for being a day late! Happy birthday! ❤️ It’s just a little drabble but I hope you like it!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 1061

Warnings: none.


The short hand of the clock had long swung by the small twelve, letting you know of the darkness outside and the twinkling of the stars without needing to see it personally. As far as you were concerned, Sam was probably still asleep after returning from a brief check-up on Jody, as she needed help on a hunt, Castiel was off watching Metatron (at least that was the last you knew of him), and the person that you wanted to see the most was hundreds of miles away.

The soggy bowl of cereal had lost its initial appeal long ago, as little as it had been to begin with. A glass of juice that was once cold and refreshing to the sudden heat was now indifferent against your palm, and even the melted cup of ice cream seemed to taunt you with its slowly swirling contents. The day had barely started and you could already feel any surviving hope of actual enthusiasm slipping away.

“Happy birthday to me,” you whispered to the walls, sighing tiredly.

Keep reading

I’m Going to Count to 3 (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark x reader)

Request: Tony getting fed up with how much Steve and the reader (they’re a couple) have been arguing, so he locks them in a closet. Telling Friday not to unlock it until they make up. The reader is claustrophobic, and Friday suddenly has a glitch, so their trapped in there while Tony works frantically to get them out but it takes him 2 hours.

It had been a long week for the team, on a mission as a full group, crammed into the jet and having to stay in close quarters every night with barely any sleep before the next day of work.  It was a test of character for sure, as well as their determination to not kill each other in the process of saving the world.  Once everyone was back home at the tower, things had gone back to normal fairly quickly and the team was back into their own routines.  

Unfortunately, your routine included arguing with your boyfriend, Steve.

“Banner, can you hand me that wave generator over there?”

“If you take two steps to the left you could get it yourself,” Bruce sighed, not moving from his work station.

“I could, sure, but then why do I have you-“  Tony’s words were cut off by your loud voices and crashing from the gym directly below, feeling the shake in the floor under his feet.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.  We’ve only been home an hour.”

“Let it be, Tony,” Bruce warned, “those two could crush you and you know it.”

The commotion continued for several minutes until he couldn’t stand it any longer and it began to affect his own work.  He slammed his tablet onto the table and stormed out, but Bruce knew better and didn’t follow.  When he reached the gym, Tony stood at the door and watched you with Steve, sparring for training, but working at your full strength and clearly using it as an outlet for your current argument.

“I never said that!” Steve hollered, flipping you onto your back. “I swear you never listen to anything I say!”

You kicked your leg up to catch his stomach, thrusting him back harshly so that you could stand.  Pushing your foot against the wall, you leapt up and wrapped your legs around his neck, twisting to drop him to the floor.  “You never say anything that I want to hear anyway!” you growled.

“I’ve got a great idea, how about if you two get it together and stop destroying my tower?”  

You hadn’t realized that Tony was there, or you probably would have stopped long before now. Clearing your throat in embarrassment, you released Steve and stood, smoothing out your workout shirt and grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from your face.  “Sorry, Tony.  We got a bit more…enthusiastic than I expected.”  You threw a towel to Steve, not making eye contact as the disagreement was far from over.  

“Yeah, we’ll clean up and be on our way,” Steve agreed, “we can finish this later.”

Tony took the few steps down from the entry and to the gym floor, standing between the two of you, looking to Steve and then to you, frustrated that he was being brought into our problems.  “What’s gotten into you guys?  All you do is fight.  If you’re so unhappy, just break up already.”

“I’m not unhappy,” you said quietly, “we’re just strongly opinionated people who don’t always agree.”

“And she has a temper,” Steve mumbled to himself.

“I heard that.”

“Of course you did,” he groaned, “now you listen.”      

You threw your towel down on the bench and rested your hands on your hips, leaning to look past Tony, “you know what, Rogers?  I’ve just about had it with you and this adolescent attitude of yours.”

“Okay, that’s it!” Tony grabbed your arm and reached over to Steve, pushing you both in front of him and into one of the gym’s storage closets before either of you had a chance to react.  “You stay in here until you can get your shit together and either figure out a way to get along or move on.”  He pushed the door shut and leaned against it until FRIDAY could secure the lock.

“FRIDAY, no one gets out until I say so, you got it?”

“Yes, boss.”


Bruce startled slightly when Tony finally returned to the lab, watching him return to his work without so much as an explanation as to what happened.  The silence in the room made it clear that he had done something, but the doctor had a strange feeling that it wasn’t likely to be good.

“Tony,” he said quietly, slowly removing his glasses and taking a few steps closer, “I’m afraid to ask, but what did you do?”

“They’re in a time out.”

“A time out?”

“Yes.  They’re in a time out until I say they can go.  FRIDAY has it covered.”  

A loud flash of light filled the tower, followed by a deep, roaring thunder and pouring rain. Another flash immediately followed, but the tower went dark for only a few seconds, quickly coming back to life but enough for Tony to be concerned.  

“That shouldn’t happen. I have a failsafe built in so we never lose power.”  He grabbed his tablet and typed feverishly, rushing out the door to check FRIDAY’s hardware.  “FRIDAY, are you still with us?” he called out, but there was no reply.  “FRIDAY?”  When there was still nothing, he quickened his pace but soon stopped in his tracks, remembering that he had told her to not let you out until he gave the command. He had trapped you and Steve, and was now panicked that he wouldn’t be able to get you out.


“I’m going to kill him,” you panted, “if I survive this, I’m going to kill him.”

“Honey, slow down. You need to breathe slower.  Close your eyes and think about something else.” Steve was trying to force the door open with no success, while you sat in the corner with your knees pulled up to rest your head against them.  “Dammit,” he grunted, “I don’t think you need to worry about Stark.  I’m going to rip him limb from limb before you’ll get the chance.”

“Steve, stop.”

He gave the door one more solid push, then backed away a few steps, rushing forward to throw his shoulder into it.  “Well, that didn’t help.”  He finally gave up the idea that he could break you both out and took a seat next to you in the dimly lit closet, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to him.  “You’re okay, (Y/N), but you’re breathing way too fast.”

“I’m hoping to pass out.”

“That’s not funny.”

You groaned and straightened your legs, dropping your head down as far as you could to try to stop the spinning dizziness you were beginning to feel.  “What’s not funny is how it feels like the walls are getting closer and how I feel like I’m being slowly crushed to death.”  You tried to slow your breathing, but the rapid pounding of your heart was resonating in your ears, only making the anxiety worse.  “He knows that I’m claustrophobic.”

“Steve!  (Y/N)!  Are you guys okay?”  Tony shouted as he pounded his fist on the door.  “I’m so sorry you guys!  Are you okay?”

“No, we are not okay!” Steve yelled back, jumping up to stand at the door again, “you know that (Y/N) is claustrophobic, Stark, so why the hell would you lock us in here?  Are you insane?”

“Oh, shit,” he whispered to himself, now completely embarrassed and ready to punish himself as much as he knew you were ready to do the same.  “I’m gonna get you out of there, okay?  FRIDAY is down, so I need to get you out myself.”

“What do you mean, FRIDAY is down?” Steve asked nervously, “how long is this going to take?”

Tony moved closer to the door and leaned against it, trying to keep his voice down but loud enough for Steve to hear through it.  “I’m gonna go as fast as I can, I promise.”


“Do you remember that vacation we took to Italy?”

“Steve, that wasn’t a vacation, that was a mission.  We just happened to finish sooner than we planned.”

“Hey, give me some credit here,” he chuckled, “I’m trying to help.”  He sighed and reached out to take your hand in his, slowly and gently rubbing his thumb across your skin.  “Anyway, do you remember that evening by the canal, at that tiny café?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden sound of loud banging on the other side of the door, making your breathing and heartbeat quicken again, just after you had finally felt a small sense of control.  Steve was trying to keep you distracted, and now that was all but ruined.

“Hey, no, stay with me, (Y/N), you’re okay.”

“Okay,” you panted softly, “Italy.  Canal. Café.”  You closed your eyes and leaned back against the wall, focusing on the sensation of his hand and the steady rhythm he was keeping with his thumb.  “Continue.”

“Do you ever think about it?”

“Yes,” you whispered, “all the time.”

“I asked you to marry me and you said ‘no’.  I’ve spent every day since then wondering what I had done and what I needed to do to change your mind.”

“Are you really doing this right now, Steve?  I told you, I wasn’t ready.  You sprung that on me during a mission, and we had only been together a few months.  You didn’t do anything wrong, it just wasn’t the right time.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded, his expression sad but reserved.  “Well,” he sighed, “is it the right time now?”

Now you had suddenly all but forgotten that you were locked in the tiny room and the sounds of Tony trying to break you out didn’t even register in your mind.  After your fight earlier, you would never have seen this moment coming.  “Steve, all we do anymore is fight,” you said remorsefully.

“Because I was mad.  I picked fights out of stupid things and was totally childish about it.  I see that now, and I’m sorry.”  He turned to fully face you, the dim lights giving his chiseled features a softness that you hadn’t seen in far too long.  “You were right.  It wasn’t the time.  But (Y/N), will you marry me now?”

You took a moment to look at him and consider what you wanted, and if you were finally ready. His eyes were almost pleading with you, and you definitely wanted this someday, but the question was upon you right now.  “Well, this took quite the turn,” you chuckled softly, “but I will never thank Tony for this, and it cannot be in anyone’s speech at the reception, understood?”

He smiled widely and took your face in his hands, laughing as his lips pressed firmly to yours.  He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, groaning through clenched teeth when the door flung open and the room was flooded with light.

“Guys!  Are you-oh,” Tony paused, looking shocked at the turn of events.

“Tony, do you mind? Can we get a minute?”  Steve laughed at Tony’s bewildered expression, quickly closing the door, “what does a guy gotta do to get some privacy around here?”

happinessinthewind  asked:

Angst scenario with Jimin where he breaks down to his gf(a labelmate at Big Hit) one day after being teased on a show about his weight multiple times. He speaks to her alone in a practice room and starts to cry while talking about it. Thank you :)

I had bit of an issue writing this because for some reason, when ever I write angst and I’m getting to the sad part I immediately start making it brighter and happier. Hopefully, though, I pulled this one off. 

On another note, I really wanted to do this request because I feel VERY strongly about this. I love BTS but they seriously rub me wrong when they start their jokes about Jimin (fans who do it as well). I hope though that for BTS (and fans) this phase has overall gone away and they realize it’s not cool nor funny to pick on each other for those type of things.  

~Admin Corky

The beads of sweat that trailed down the sides of your face were clear indication of just how hard the choreography you were currently working on was. It required concentration on the smallest of details and no matter how hard you tried to make your limbs move in sharp, fluid movements it was starting to look like a baboon messing around in front of a bunch of mirrors.

“Dammit.” You muttered in frustration, stopping your body completely and beginning to make weird faces in the mirror you were standing in front of. Anything was better than continuing this moot effort.

It was a well-known fact within the company that you weren’t the best when it comes to dancing but it was also acknowledged that you were the one who worked the hardest to improve. You suppose you were lucky in a sense to have a boyfriend very skilled in moving his body rhythmically. Park Jimin. Just thinking about him allowed a ghost of a smile to form on your lips. When you had first gotten accepted into the company, all the trainees were introduced to the fellow label mates and Jimin had taken an immediate interest in you. It was confusing between the two of you for a while because despite the fact that you always spent time together and were always acting like you were an item, both of you still hadn’t been on an official date. You remember this fact was embarrassingly brought up during a company dinner. Both of your faces were so red that the topic wouldn’t be dropped.

“Ah, you two are so innocent.” Hoseok had said while popping a bite into his mouth. Other Bangtan members piped in until Jimin ended the discussion with a rather angry remark about them being nosy and too much.

However, right after the dinner, Jimin had pulled you aside and stuttered out an offer to see a movie together. From there, you two became ‘official’. Your relationship was still kept in the confines of the company’s walls but you didn’t mind. Bangtan was really starting to take off and with your own group’s debut date nearing closer and closer, it was almost insane to let the information leak into the media.

After boring yourself with your ridiculous derp faces, you made your way to your bag and took out your phone. To your surprise, you had several unread message all from your boyfriend, Jimin.

We just got out of the broadcasting station

What are you doing?

A grin made its way onto your face as you scanned the messages. You sent a quick text telling him you were in the practice room before lying down on one of the numerous black leather couches spread about the room, an arm slung across your face.

It took a little while until you heard the door to the practice room open. You didn’t bother to look.

“Welcome to my torture chamber.” You said in the deepest voice you could muster while sitting up.

“Dance until you die of exhaustion or die because of the lack of A/C. Pick your poison.” Jimin smiled and paused in his trek towards you, hand coming up to his chin in a gesture of thought.

“Either way you’re still gasping for your last breath. Which to me sounds very unpleasant.”

“Touché.” Your agreement resumed his walk towards you and he didn’t hesitate to flop down between your legs. He leaned his head back into your lap, his eyes roaming your sweat dried face; cheeks most likely still flaming from your earlier dance session.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, more to himself than anything. You winked at him as you began to play with his styled hair.

“You’re pretty handsome yourself.” The compliment was instinctual but you still meant every word. Jimin frowned and his eyes averted from yours.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” His own words startled you and you were forced to choke back the set reply of ‘No, I really meant it’.

It was silent between the two of you as you kept stroking his hair, trying to find the right way to approach the impending conversation. Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He didn’t reply but you knew it would take a little for him to feel comfortable enough to open up about what was bothering him. You continued to thread your fingers through his hair, giving his head soft massages there and there.

“Why do they insist on teasing me?” It was a vague question but this was how Jimin worked. He was like an onion; you had to peel him piece by piece until you got to the core of what he really meant.

“Who’s they?”

“The members. MC’s. Fans. Everyone.” He paused a moment. “Jungkookie.” The slight bitterness in his tone that surrounded his dongsaeng’s name made you arch your eyebrows.

“What do they tease you about?” The long ensued period of quietness that came next told you this must have been something that has been really eating him in the inside for a long time. When the silence started to stretch on for too long, you wrapped your arms around Jimin’s neck and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“You can tell me anything, Jimin.” You told him in a low voice, hoping that it would ease the intensity spread across his face. You heard him release a deep breath through his nose before he sat up straight, resting his head in his hands.

“Jimin?” You slid off the couch and sat next to him. Worry was filling your body with each second that passed. Jimin was never this unresponsive. When he has something on his mind, with some encouragement on your part, he was able to express it fairly easily. This, however, was something utterly new and it pained you to see him in such an internal conflict with himself. He was struggling to voice the issues troubling him and this only made you more anxious. What could possibly be making him this upset?

To answer your question, Jimin lifted his head and turned it towards you. The site of tears threatening to spill over his black rimmed eyelids, tell-tale streaks already creating racing tracks on his face, was enough for you to sling an arm around his shoulders and pull him into your embrace. The action caused a strangled whimper to sound from Jimin and soon after his shoulders were racking from deep sobs. This wasn’t your typical crying. It was the sort of sorrowful weeping that you hold inside for so long, filled with all the anger and grief you bit back. His face that was buried into your neck shifted and cold air blew against the place he left revealed, telling you that his tears haven’t slowed down one bit. Your hand found the back of his head and you moved it down in slow, comforting strokes.

“Why am I not enough?” His heart broken voice entered your ears and you had to bite your lips viciously, blinking back your own tears.

“What are you talking about, pabo?” Jimin lifted his head and you almost closed your eyes to avoid seeing the anguish stricken facial expression he wore, glazed with his tears.

“I’m not handsome enough. Everyone says it constantly. I’m not skinny enough. I’m not tall enough. I’m—“ His voice broke and he turned his head away from you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hide beings that the room was surrounded by numerous mirrors, so you caught him scrunching up his face and blinking his eyes rapidly to stop the tears.

“Jimin-ah.” He didn’t look but you didn’t force him to. “Aish, this boy.” You slapped his shoulder lightheartedly. Your joking wasn’t working though and you saw that he was drawing inside himself as his eyes casted a blank yet solemn stare at the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” Your soft, singing voice gained his attention and he looked at you through the mirror. “Cham gwenchanji anhni uri dul maennal ireokke ddo sangsangeul hae…” You smiled at him and you could detect a slightly upturn of his lips. You scooched your body closer to his until you were bear hugging him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder.

“Wah, look at this. I can barely see above your shoulder. So tall, my ChimChim.” You said while pecking his neck, eyes still trained on his.

“And what the? I must be going blind.” You rubbed your eyes and squinted at his face, fingers sneaking up and tracing his jawline.

“Has it gotten even sharper? I’m going to have to bubble wrap everything—ah.” You shook your finger and pretended to suck on it like it got cut. Despite the sadness in his eyes, Jimin let out a chuckle, the smile lingering on his lips.

“Wow.” Jimin lifted one eyebrow in question at your simple statement. You could see him yearning for more compliments, reassurance that he wasn’t as bad as people said him to be.

“Your eyes. So kind and beautiful. And I think,” You leaned forward so your cheek was pressing to his. “If I look just close enough, that there are these tiny flecks that remind me of the stars. They’re enchanting.” Jimin gazed at you for a long time and you could see the different thoughts passing through those wonderful eyes of his. Apprehensiveness, need, gratitude.

“Thank you.” He whispered eventually, his voice still coarse from the crying.

“Don’t let them do this to you.” Your fingers brushed underneath his swollen eyes, capturing the wetness still in the corners. “You are simply amazing in every way and no matter what someone says, even if that someone could be me, don’t let it ever be the judgement you use to determine your self-worth.” You saw Jimin bite his bottom lip as he lowered his gaze.

“But it’s so hard. How can I be confident when there’s always someone reminding me of what I don’t like about myself?” He grappled to form the question and when he glanced back up at me there were new tears forming.

“How can I heal from the last insult when the next one is already being hurled at me?” His voice broke once more at the end and a few tears streaked down his face.

“Yah.” Your sharp voice made him jump slightly. “What does it tell about your character to allow such things to get to you? You are more than a joke about how short they think you are. And you are definitely much more than a teasing comment about how much that they think you’ve gained weight. Why should you allow yourself to wallow in self-loathing over a silly remark they say? It’s not fair to yourself.”

“(Y/N)…” He trailed off and you immediately started to shake your head.

“No. It’s not going to stop unless you say something yourself or you learn that their words don’t define you.” You peppered his cheek with encouraging pecks. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh but—“

“I know.” Jimin interrupted, lifting his eyes back to yours. “It’s what I needed to hear.” A hush fell over the two of you.

“You know your members don’t mean it, right?” I murmured after a while. You felt Jimin nod his head. “Jungkook is young and still thinks that it’s funny to pick on others. I know he adores and looks up to you.” He breathed a laugh.

“Yeah, I know. Even if it doesn’t seem like it at times.”

“Teenagers these days.” Your statement made both of you laugh in unison and for the first time since he entered the practice room, a true happiness broadened his face.

“Thank you.” You waved your hand to brush off the appreciation but Jimin turned his body around and held your face with both of his hands, cupping underneath your chin. “No, really….thank you. How could I have been so lucky to end up with a girl like you?” You smirked and winked at him.

“A kiss would suffice, you sap.” He chuckled underneath his breath before pressing a tender kiss that was off-kilter, his lips only brushing your upper lip.

“I love you.” Jimin sighed, his fingers tightening around your face.



“Want to ditch this place? I’m really up for some ice cream right now.” Your words made his eyes almost unseen from his signature smile. Jimin nodded his head before getting up, offering his hand once he was fully standing.

“You’re gonna be alright, you know that?” You said once your were standing next to him. He smiled before grasping your hand and tugging you along playfully.

“Yeah. I’m in the mood for lime. You?”

Birthday Boy: The Morning After

Prompt: [Sequel to Birthday Boy] Reader and Dean end up having a really good relationship but he still hasn’t been completely honest with her. 

Word Count: 2,528

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Next on the list is a CharlieXReader fic and it won’t be as angsty as this one. *sighs*

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