The day after the battle, Hermione Granger got up before the sun did. The Lake was covered in fog, and she was used to having somewhere urgent to go, to be, to fight.
She closed the tent flap up behind her. Hogwarts had something like enough beds, but Hermione hadn’t had it in her to climb those moving staircases, to step through the painting’s open frame and make her way to the Gryffindor girls’ seventh year dormitory. Her bed would have been there, months untouched except for the bras and scarves and bottles of sparkly purple nail polish Parvati and Lavender had strewn onto every open surface.
The fog rolled in off the Lake and Hermione stood at the damp shore and shivered until the sun rose and burned it all away.
The day after the battle, they buried their dead out on an island in the Lake, the day after the battle. Madame Pomfrey fretted and hovered, but every injured witch, wizard, and squib made it out to those conjured chairs. They might sit with assistance– with spells, with braces, with a friend’s shoulder– but they sat quiet and they listened to Flitwick read out the names.
The day after the battle, Ron Weasley stood on tiptoe when he stepped back into the Great Hall, looking over a sea of bent heads to find a cluster of red. They’d brought the tables back.
The cluster was only a tiny blip of three– Bill and their parents were flitting about, helping Flitwick float steaming bowls of pasta down onto each table. But Ginny and Percy were sitting on either side of George, keeping up a lively conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair.
Ginny was sitting half in Harry’s lap, like if she didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting up to help, or to pace the castle, or to walk out to the Forest and not come back. She was holding his hand, her freckled thumb running over the words written into his skin.
Ron thought about sitting with Luna, instead. Percy tried to laugh at one of Ginny’s jokes, and Ron didn’t know how to be kind like that. Ginny held Harry’s hand. Ron had thought for a long terrible stretch of heartbeats that he had lost two brothers yesterday.
He could sit with Dean. He could walk out to the Forest and punch Aragog in his ugly eyes, because normally when he walked away from everyone he loved it was because he was scared and maybe change was good for the soul.
Ron pushed his hands through his hair. He crossed the Great Hall, swung into a seat next to Harry, and filled his plate with lukewarm pasta.
The day after the battle, Luna Lovegood climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, because it was the furthest she could get away from everything. She laid on her back on the cold stone and cast balls of light and enchanted birds to chase each other across the ceiling until she felt like descending down to the ground again.
The day after the battle, Neville Longbottom went down to the greenhouses to see what the damage was there. He had sat all night and all morning in the infirmary, fetching water for Anthony Goldstein and holding Dennis Creevey’s hand and folding extra blankets down over Professor Sprout’s cold feet. Madame Pomfrey had banished him to go get a spot to eat and some sleep, so he walked down to the greenhouses to see what was salvageable.
Whole panes of greenish glass stood jagged and shattered. Protective spells had put out any fires, but stray blasts of magic had killed beds of vegetables and flowers and taken almost all the silver-green leaves off an olive tree that twisted in the corner of Greenhouse 4.
Neville went in through the door, even though there as a broken hole in the glass wall big enough for him, and almost fell back through it when Hannah Abbott stood up from the row of pots she’d been crouching behind. Dirt streaked every crease of her hands. “Hey,” he said, and let the door click shut behind him.
“Hey.” When she saw where he was heading, she added, “The olive’s still alive.”
The bark was rough under his hand, gnarled from decades of slow growth. He could hear the green magic whispering down its xylem.
“I was thinking I’d try to mend up the walls, close this place up again,” said Hannah. “But I wasn’t sure I could do it alone."
"Alright,” said Neville. When Professor Sprout argued her way out of the infirmary and thumped downhill with the wind throwing her cloudy hair in her face, she found every pane of glass healed and Neville and Hannah asleep on the softest patch of moss in Greenhouse 2.
The day after the battle, Parvati Patil sent an owl to Lavender Brown’s parents.
The day after the end of it all, Hermione skipped lunch and found her favorite secluded corner of the library instead. The chairs stood silent and sober, all gouged dark wood. The high windows threw light gleaming across the polished table, catching on the dust motes drifting through the air above it.
She dumped her carry-all down on it and reached inside– up to her elbows, her shoulders. She tried not to feel like it was eating her alive and she pulled out protein bars and unicorn horn and crumpled wanted flyers.
She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so cluttered– sometime before the night in the ditch outside the little Scottish village with the awesome curry shop. Sometime after the time they hid out from a storm in an unknowing Muggle’s barn, wrinkling their noses at the itch of hay as they ate their dinner. Hermione had taken first watch, listening to the thunder roll over the shallow hills outside, and she’d gone through her bag pouch by endless pouch. Harry had twitched in his sleep with every flash of lightning, but everything in her bag had been where it was supposed to be.
She summoned a wastepaper bin to hover beside her and got to work. Quills and ballpoint pens went in a neat heap to her left. Books she stacked by subject matter around her, except for the ones she flew back to their homes on Hogwarts shelves. She checked potions ingredients for decay, tossed the bad ones and wrapped the good ones back up in their oiled cloth and ziplock bags.
She ate a protein bar while she piled duct tape and the radio and a travel-sized magnetic foldable Muggle chess set and a depleted first aid kit all up around her. She threw the wrapper away and wondered if the smell would ever come out of the bag’s insides, or if she should just buy another one.
The day after the battle, they started putting the stones of the castle back into place. They put bones back together, first, skin and knit muscle and tendons. McGonagall escorted every statue and suit of armor back to where it belonged.
Sue Li sat atop a pile of rubble and ate the biggest chocolate bar she’d ever seen her life. She thought she could still taste a film of Polyjuice on her tongue, but she told herself that was dumb. She dropped little pebbles down the ragged tumble of stones, counting their bounces and calculating averages, until Astoria Greengrass showed up with a glass of water and a pasty and put them down beside her.
Astoria got her hands dirty every chance she got, put her back into sweeping up glass shards or hauling bandages or Wingardium Leviosa-ing stone blocks the size of a horseless carriage. She would stay in the castle as long as she could, finding odd tasks and errands and corners to lurk in. When she finally went back to the Greengrass family estate, it would be to pack her bags, kiss the old house elf on the cheek, and steal her dog away with her.
The day after the battle, Ron went out to Hagrid’s cabin in the stubborn chill of the afternoon and sat in his pumpkin patch. He didn’t go knock on the rough-hewn door, and Hagrid didn’t come out, but after twenty minutes Fang trotted into the yard and patiently got slobber all over his shirt.
Ron watched the sway of the shadows beyond the Forest’s edge. Buckbeak’s old tying post stood among the twining squash vines and their giant fuzzy leaves, the metal ring hanging empty against weathered wood. He thought about Ginny brushing her thumb over Harry’s scars and wrapped
his hands over the pale marks that curled around his wrists.
When the air started biting and the sky started darkening, Ron pulled himself back to his feet and climbed up to the library. He had never lived there, never really liked its labyrinth of stacks and dusty air, but he knew the way there better than he knew the way to the Quidditch pitch or the Room of Requirement or all those other places he liked so much more.
It was empty, except for Hermione, and he was glad. She squeezed her last book into her bag and looked up at him, shoving her hair back off her forehead.
“They doing dinner down there?” she said, her dry throat rasping on it.
He shrugged. “Mum’s organizing, I think. It– helps, I think."
She nodded, looking down to do the clasps up slowly, one by one.
"I just wanted to go back to the tent,” said Ron. “Be alone. It’s quiet."
"I won’t get in your way,” she said. “It’s still pitched down there."
"I know,” he said. “With you, I meant.”
“That’s not alone,” she said. “I’m not quiet,” she said. She clasped and unclasped the bag.
“Words. Accuracy. I never claimed to be the clever one."
"But you are, Ron–"
"Hermione,” he said. “Come with me? You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Come home.”
They went down the grass through chilling air. Ron could hear his mother in his head, telling him to take her bag and carry it for her, but he just reached out for her hand.
The day after the end of it all, Ron laid on the floor of the tent, counting stitches in the canvas, while Hermione read Hogwarts, A History like she didn’t have it memorized. She read her favorite parts aloud, stopping mid-sentence when the tent flap rustled and opened.
“Ginny’s sitting on Neville until he agrees to sleep in a real bed and not a pile of shrubbery,” Harry said, stepping inside and shutting it up behind him. “She got Luna to help because she says otherwise Luna will just fade into a corner and not come out for food.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m not intruding, right?"
"Don’t be daft,” said Ron and patted a bit of floor next to him. “C'mon, join in, Hermione’s trying to bore me to sleep. I suspect it’s an act of caring concern.” Hermione threw a pillow at his head without looking up from the pages.
The day after the battle, they fell asleep in a tangle in the center of the tent that they had lugged across their country, across these long, cold days of the war. They had danced here to the radio, had chewed protein bars, played chess and bled and yelled at each other.
But the war was over and they were growing into it, slow, staying up too late as they leaned into each other and whispered on this threadbare rug. They meant to wobble to their feet and get to bed, but Harry was clinging to Hermione’s hand and none of them wanted to go.
They would get too old for this– hard floors and the way Harry’s neck was cricked up on Ron’s bony shoulder. Hermione’s snoring would get worse and Ron would have to sleep with four carefully arranged pillows to stop his back from aching in the mornings, but Harry would always have a place here. He had slept on Ron’s bedroom floor at fourteen, leaned on Hermione outside his parents’ broken home.
In the weeks after the battle, Hermione would track down her parents and move back home, and they would all help the Weasleys rebuild the Burrow. Harry would move in Andromeda Tonks’s spare room. “We’re almost like family, after all,” she’d say briskly, shooing him into the house and showing him where she kept the tea, Teddy’s diapers, and the whiskey. They’d come for visits and talk through the night in each of those homes, curled up under Molly’s quilts or out on the Granger’s back porch swing or over fingers of firewhiskey with Andromeda.
In the months after the war, he and Ron would get a flat while they went through Auror training and Hermione would crash there five nights out of seven. Her university textbooks would take over their countertops, shelves, tables, and floor and Harry wouldn’t tease them (too much) for how hilariously long they tried to pretend it was the couch Hermione slept on.
Every home Ron and Hermione lived in, for the rest of their lives, would have a place for Harry– a spare room or a patch of floor or an old sofa. He would know how Hermione took her coffee, and his favorite cereal and Ginny’s favorite oatmeal would always been in the cupboard, and their children would have giggly cousin-sleepovers in magical tents they pitched on the living room rug.
When the kids came shrieking in to wake them at absolutely unacceptable, ugly hours, Ginny would groan curse words they’d repeat gleefully among themselves, but Harry would let them grab his hands in their little sticky ones and pull him barefoot and messy-haired out into the morning.
its chalcedony! original corrupted gem adopted from @sariasong64. on the left is how she is now, and to the right is how she was before the light bomb corrupted her.
she was a weather oriented gem, and went with scouting gems to scope out environments better than any technology they had. with her cloud hair, she was able to sense the winds’ movements at any time, and with her super sensitive thin skin she was able to feel temperature drop or rise by even one degree.
It’s My Little Monday! With…CottonCandy Cloud! CottonCandy Cloud is customized from a terrible Starshine who had gone that awful browning color that won’t go away, had symbol fading & rust & the hair cut off. A perfect candidate to start off a whole new ‘cottoncandy’ family! (Well, if Applejack can have a big family, maybe this one does too) She has all new fluffy hair with 2 strands of glass beads. Her symbol is a cloud, but the white pearl paint is hated by the camera. It needed something subtle though because of her rather busy spots. In all pink & blue and light cloudy hair she’s just as big and fluffy as cottoncandy. She’ll hopefully soon have some more fluffy cheerful relatives.
who dance in the thunderstorm. Watch in awe as they move like the wind, their cloudy hair swirling around them as if they are the eye of their own personal hurricane. Date the fae who’s eyes spark like lightening bolts, and who’s voice booms like thunder. Their veins overflow with raindrops, and frost flowers bloom like bruises in the shape of your lips. Date the thunderfae and love them dearly, even when it means saying goodbye to the sun.
Over the course of the next four days, Jamie began to heal and Claire began to distance herself. They would chat idly over neutral topics every morning and evening when she examined his wounds, but the conversation never flourished as it had during their first days together. Jamie never pushed and Claire could tell he was carefully controlling himself. She would pass his daily care off to his family and explore the farm and the lands surrounding it.
An outlander in this new community she found herself in, Claire tried to stay out of the way by searching the land for medicinal plants and fungi that grew in the area. The smell of wet mud and heather hung in the air, along with the crispness of the coming evening. Despite the lush Scottish landscape, Claire knew fall was coming on quickly; another reason to leave Lallybroch as soon as possible.
“Whatever makes you feel like less of a coward Beauchamp,” she muttered, digging through the shallow water of a small pond for water pepper.
Considering her situation, staying would probably be the wisest decision. Food, shelter, and a way to pass the harsh winter. She could continue using her nursing skills as well, especially if her suspicions about Jenny Murray were accurate. Claire was no midwife, but she had attended births in school. Inclement weather also brought with it inevitable illnesses. She could be useful here.
Then, there was Jamie Fraser.
Claire tossed a clump of water pepper into her basket, ignoring the tightening of her chest at the thought of him. His imposing height and self composure; hair of red, copper, cinnamon, and auburn that curled over his forehead and at the nape of his neck. The slight twitch of his mouth when she amused him; the way his brow would furrow slightly when she was silent and lost in her thoughts.
It wasn’t unusual for a medical professional to become attached to their patient in various ways. Traumatic and difficult ordeals naturally brought people together, after all. Claire had seen it happen during the War many times. Young men and women pushed beyond their limits; comfort found in the darkest places of the world. What troubled Claire most wasn’t the connection they shared, but the absence of darkness in all of it.
Claire shook off the thought, squelching out of the mud as carefully as she could. The sun dipped below the tree line, casting shadows and rays of light through the heather. Birds called softly from the trees, flittering madly, about to prepare for whatever it was birds do at night. Claire closed her eyes, breathing in the last scents of day and the beginning of night.
She could have stood there five minutes or thirty. The cold Highland breeze lifted the curly hair from her neck, sending a chill down her body. Opening her eyes, Claire froze as she saw a figure leaning with its forearms on the fence, watching her. Feeling too serene to glare at him, she merely raised an eyebrow and made her way over to lean in from the opposite side, her own forearms braced on the rail beside his.
“When I said you could start getting up and moving, I believe I instructed you to take it slow at first,” she said conversationally.
Jamie sniffed out a laugh, eyes crinkling a bit in amusement.
“Aye well, I walked instead of ran.”
“Could you run?”
He grinned. “God no.”
Claire laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own. His body, always warm, radiated heat; she slowly leaned back into him, barely touching. She glanced down at his shirtsleeves that were rolled up to the elbow. Just the sight made her shiver again.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“Nay. We Highlanders are made of sturdier stuff than you blue-nosed Southrons,” he replied, only wincing slightly as he straightened and held out his arm. “I brought ye a coat. I could see ye shivering from inside the house.”
“Blue-nosed huh?” she retorted, smiling a bit as he helped her into the large coat, clearly his own from the size and scent of it, the tartan fabric still warm from the heat of his body.
“Hmm,” he hummed lowly, looking her over in a way that made Claire’s belly tighten suddenly. He raised his hand slowly, watching her face, then very lightly ran a knuckle from the bridge of her nose down to the tip.
“Red then,” he all but whispered, face mere inches from her own.
Claire could feel her cheeks flush; she parted her lips for a comeback, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Jamie’s eyes never left hers; he swallowed, and she shivered. One corner of Jamie’s mouth turned up and he looked away from her as he shifted and pressed his side along the length of hers to warm her. Claire melted into him, trembling from cold and nerves, joining him in watching the last of the sun disappear. She could tell Jamie had something to say and waited for him to find his words.
“Do you..” he began, then cleared his throat, apparently changing his mind.
Claire nudged him gently.
“I dinna want to pry, Sassenach,” he said, glancing at her, then down at his hands. “I’m wondering what your plans are now? I ken ye told Jenny..” he trailed off.
Bloody hell, this was it. Claire took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly before answering.
“I mean to leave soon. You’ve healed quite well in such a short amount of time. You have your family to keep you from doing something completely idiotic, if needed.”
The last was said in jest, but her heart squeezed a little.
Why is this so hard? God, get a grip Beauchamp!
“True, but none of them order me around quite like you do, Sassenach. Scold me, curse me for bleedin’ to death…”
He turned his head to look down at her, face controlled but eyes warm and bright. They matched the sky, blue and black and violet pinpricked by the soft light of Lallybroch’s windows.
“I want you to stay, Claire.”
The words hung between them, echoing through Claire’s brain along with the beating of her heart.
I want you to stay.
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.
“I dinna ask just for me,” he went on hurriedly, obviously seeing something change in that damn transparent face of hers. “I ask for my tenants. My family. For you, Sassenach. It’ll be winter before too long. You’d be safe here. Ye wouldna have to worry about food and shelter. It-”
“I can fend for myself, thank you,” she replied, nervously playing with the long sleeves of his coat. “I’ve managed so far.”
“Aye, ye have,” he agreed. He sighed. “My sister’s pregnant. Have ye noticed?”
Claire paused, then nodded.
Jamie sighed again, looking worn. Claire mentally kicked herself for letting him stay on his feet for so long.
“You’re worried about Jenny? The pregnancy?” she asked softly, looking up at him again.
His features were dark. Only the edges could be seen in the relief of the cloudy night sky; curly hair, high cheekbone, mouth pursed in thought.
“My mother… she died in childbirth, ken,” he started. “I was eight. It… it wasna usual, wi’ medical advancements but… it happened.”
Claire stared at him, wide eyed. She slowly reached out, gently squeezing his forearm.
“I’m so sorry, Jamie.”
He covered her hand with his own, then met her eyes.
“I ken ye have yer reasons for wanting to leave and I’ll no’ ask what ye dinna want to tell me. But I will offer ye a home, however long ye wish to claim it. I only ask that ye stay until the bairn comes in the spring. After that, I’ll take ye wherever it is ye wish to go.”
Claire stared at him, piecing his words together in her mind. His fear. An offer of a home, of usefulness. Protection and a future. Several possibilities, if only she would grab at them. In her heart, a flare of hope that was matched by the blue eyes that waited intently for her answer.
She stepped away from him, and held out her hand. He glanced down, surprised, but smiled as he took her hand and shook it. Claire smiled back, not noticing he didn’t let go until he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it formally.
i’d thought i’d be more down with it and add gifs just so you can optimise the cuteness by looking at these sRSLY CUTE BOYS. dear parents, thanks for your bomb genetics. my masterist is here :)) enjoy
warnings:i mean the gifs are quite cute?? words: 1′231
재밤 J A E B U M - Jaebum always had new makeup artists all the time at different events and it was just usual routine - when he saw you enter the studio he was taken aback by your natural beauty and the positive vibe in the room - however you were selected to do BamBam’s look for the album promotion, and then Mark’s and then Jackson’s - he was desperate to talk to you and he thought he was going to lose his chance - but when you came over to him with a brush in your hand, he instantly began to talk to you and make you chuckle - he didn’t have long to impress you and ask you for your contacts since you kept hushing him so he’d be still for the makeup to be applied. but you were drawn to his hidden enthusiasm that made you want to know more about him
마크 M A R K - korean street markets are always such a crowded place where everyone just merges into a see of people trying to go about their day - as soon as Mark would see you he’d be completely confused as to why he saw you among everyone else - but then after he’s glimpsed at you Mark would know why. your aura and beauty to him was astounding - he couldn’t care less about what’s on the stall you were buying from but he’d shuffle through the people to get close because he was so drawn to you - Mark would feel hypnotised until all he’d hear was “boong-uh-ppang?” he’s cheeks would heat up as he realised the store owner was offering him food but you tried to get his attention by saying it too - from then on he’d still be flustered from hearing you laugh lightly at how spaced out Mark would be - he’d buy two of whatever he saw first on the stall which was boong-uh-ppang so the stall owner would shut up. Mark would instantly be sweet to you and you bonded over Korean food with the business of Seoul’s streets beside you
잭슨 J A C K S O N - both jackson and you could never really explain how you started messaging, or how you found each other - i feel like you’d have been talking long before debut and even when he was training heavily for fencing you’d be sure to support him - Jackson would always feel this heaviness in the air when you video called because he’s never heard your laugh raw in person, he’s only seen you laugh in pixels ;( all you’d both want is to meet each other - finally seeing him in person would be incredibly strange. all the boys would be there but Jackson and you would feel as if there was no one else in the room - i don’t think everything would seem to move slowly, i’d think more the opposite. everything would happen so quickly as you sprang into his arms to finally feel his presence he’d probs smell really good too
진영 J I N Y O U N G - you were there outside JYPs building glancing from your phone to the various streets and signs around you - Jinyoung would watch you in confusion has he came out of the building. everyone is always moving and so alive in Seoul, it was strange to see someone stood still for so still for so long especially in the dark - “do you need help finding somewhere?” - instantly you appreciated his kindness, although he didn’t really know where you were wanting to go was also. you admired Jinyoung’s determination and jokes as he tried to help you find your way - eventually he asked if you wanted to come in to JYP where it wasn’t so dark, and where it was safe - you became a friendly from then on Jinyoung always loved it when you passed JYP or went into Seoul with him
영재 Y O U N G J A E - you’d catch Youngjae’s eyes before you got on the plane since he adored your style even for a long flight and the way you walked breezily around the airport - as he saw you get on the plane he’d wonder where you were heading, what your story was and why did you seem so appealing - as he made it to his seat Youngjae would do a little skip as he saw you were right next to him and you’d low key see it from the corner of your eye wHY SO CUTE YOUNGJAE - at first the air would be a little awkward because you both wanted to talk to one another so bad. Youngjae would probably turn the air con on and off or something stupid because he’d be hella nervous - “do you mind not doing that? it’s making me cold” - he’d be so sure he fucked up everything straight away by messing with the air con but when you keep talking to him he stops panicking about trying to impressing you - his cute charms would keep you from falling into boredom throughout the whole flight. and as you stepped off the plane there was another contact on your phone and a date planned :))
뱀뱀 B A M B A M - BamBam’s never the on to act shy in front of anyone - he’s been aware of you for quite awhile now, being in one of the hugest girls groups and attending all the same award shows as him. you would definitely already know about BamBam’s charms, but to him he was certain he’d be inexistent to you - through this award evening, BamBam’s eyes wouldn’t just be on the stage, but you too and the camera would definitely pick him up looking at you ;) - for the 2354th time in the show because BamBam is so hard not to look at you would have found BamBam’s cloudy hair - when he’d notice you looking directly at him he would instantaneously cover his face from you. being BamBam he usually wouldn’t mind someone like you gaping at him but his huge grin on his face would make it obvious how fond he was of you - at some point in the evening, he finds the time to congratulate you formally about the awards you’d won and you’re groups successful performance before goofing around with you
유겸 Y U G Y E O M - when Yugyeom found himself practising dancing intensely, it was hard for someone to distracting him - sure his hyungs would make him laugh but when he saw you out of the dance studio Yugyeom would find that he actually lost his footing and couldn’t find the beat of the song - a colleague was giving you a tour of the entertainment company since you were a new worker and you found it amusing that Yugyeom (a dancing king btw) couldn’t find his feet - you being highly involved in the entertainment company meant that Yugyeom became a familiar face to you and one day he would find the courage to make conversation with you - talks at the JYP building became so frequent, the boy even started bringing you a drink some mornings most mornings
“Could you please do an imagine with whoever where the reader confessed her feelings to him but he doesn’t feel the same way so she’s embarrassed so she told him it’s a prank but all the other boys really know how she feels about him. Sorry it was long” - anon
a/n: this came out way better than i expected and i really like it (:
“Hey everyone,” You announce as you walk into the living room of the Why Don’t We house. You scan the boys sitting on the couch. You see the boy with a toothy smile and bright blue eyes, a boy with curly hair and dark freckles sprinkled across his face, a young boy with fluffy hair and a button nose and a boy with bleached hair and cloudy blue eyes. You look again for the one that made your heart spark with excitement every time you’d make eye contact with him, “Where’s Jonah?”
“Went to the store with Aspen to get some milk,” Zach says, his face illuminated by the screen of his phone, “Why?”
“Um… just asking,” You say calmly.
“You’re always looking for him, (y/n)…” Corbyn points out, “Why?”
“I’m just looking out for him,” You answer quickly.
“You ‘look out’ for Jonah more than any of us. Like, Zach needs the looking out for more than the oldest one in the group, you know,” Daniel chimes in.
“I guess,” You breath.
“Is it because he’s your favorite?” Jack winks jokingly.
You whimper a little, “NO! Why would you say that? You a-”
They all straighten up, “(y/n)…”
“You ramble when you’re lying,” Zach reminds.
You frown, “I do not!”
“(y/n),” Jack’s expression softens, “Do you… do you have feelin-”
“Guys, no! I don’t!” You protest.
“(y/n), you can trust us,” Corbyn says soothingly.
“I can… I can explain,” You stutter. You wrap your fingers nervously around the edge of the hoodie that Jonah had let you borrow when you were cold a few days before.
“You don’t have to, sweetheart,” Daniel scoots and makes a spot for you to sit, “You can answer the question and you’ll be okay,”
You sit in between Corbyn and Daniel. The blonde boy wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Just tell us, (y/n). You don’t have to worry.”
“Can you guys keep a secret?” You ask hesitantly.
They nod, holding their breath, “Do you have feelings for Jonah, (y/n)?”
You bite your lower lip a bit, “Y-yes.”
“Should I tell him?”
They all glance at each other.
“What?” You ask.
“Nothing.” They reply at the same time.
“Do what you’d like, baby,” Zach says.
You turn to him, “What’d you call me?”
Everyone turns to him and he purses his lips, “Nothing.”
“Well, you do what you think is best, (y/n),” Jack says, shooing Zach’s comment away.
“Okay… I will,” I smile, getting up.
Corbyn frowns a bit, “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get ready. I need to look good when I tell him that I’ve been in love with him ever since I met him,” You run upstairs to your room to change and put on makeup.
“Who wants popppcoooorrrnnnn?” You hear Jonah’s voice ring through the house. You straighten your soft white t-shirt out and and fix your loosely curled hair. You had put on a thin layer of natural makeup so it wouldn’t throw Jonah off to much. Your tummy flutters with excitement. You were going to do it. Finally. You couldn’t wait. So you didn’t.
You skipped down the stairs and walked to the kitchen where all the boys including Aspen were gathered around and going through the snacks she and Jonah brought. You smile confidently and walk to Jonah, where he’s putting away butter in the fridge. You tap his shoulder. He looks at you, offering a sweet smile that makes your insides melt, “Hey, (y/n).”
“Jonah,” You say, shakily, “I have something to tell you.”
He closes the fridge and motions you to move to the side a bit to make the conversation a bit more private, “Yes?”
You look around his arm and see Zach’s face. His face is full of anxiousness and you don’t understand why. You decide to ignore it. You look back at Jonah’s beautiful face. His perfect nose and stunning eyes. His uneven stubble that he hadn’t shaved in quite time. You lived to be able to kiss that face. In due time, (y/n), You remind yourself, Be patient.
“Well,” Here goes nothing, “For the longest time, I’ve been wanting to tell you that I really… really like you.”
“I like you too, (y/n)! All of us do!” He says.
“No, Jonah, in a… another way,” You whisper.
“Like…romantically?” He says. His eyebrows furrow.
“I’m… I’m sorry, (y/n), I don’t… I don’t feel the same… same way,” He manages to breath out.
“Oh…” You think of a way to play it off quickly, “Pffffft!”
His face is painted with confusion, “What?”
“It was a prank!” You lie, “You fell for it! Zach - you call his name loudly, wanting him to go over to you and Jonah to back you up - and I made a bet that you’d fall for me confessing my love for you! Turns out he was right, you did fall for it!”
You see Zach get up from his spot, “What?”
“Remember the bet we made?” You look at Zach, your eyes watering with hurt. He nods, “About Jonah?”
“Yeah! Turns out he fell for it!” You force out a laugh and pretend you’re doubling over, thinking the situation is hilarious.
“Why are you crying?” Jonah asks, “Are you okay?”
“I’m laughing, Jonah!” You say, wiping the tears from your eyes, “C’mon Zach, I owe you the money,”
You grab his arm tightly and lead him to the hall. From the doorway, you watch Jonah’s expression turn back to cheery and he walks over to Aspen. He leans on the counter next to the manager’s daughter. Through your blurry vision you see their fingers stroke each other lightly. Next thing you know, they’re holding hands in the blink of an eye.
Your breathing speeds up rapidly. You turn to Zach. He saw it too.
“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” He whispers.
“Let’s get out of here,” You say. He walks you to his room, his hand on the back of your hand gently guiding you.
You sit on his bed and start to bawl. The tears stream down your cheeks and Zach’s eyes soften, “I’m terribly sorry, (y/n), we should have told you,”
“It’s alright, Zach. It’s over now,” You cover your face with your hands.
Zach sits beside you and you lean on him, “How could I be so stupid? I’m nothing! I’m ugly and useless! Why did I think a guy like Jonah could like me too? He’s too talented and I’m too - UGH! I hate myself, Zach!”
“Now, don’t say that, love. You are worth something, in my heart,” You look up to him and he quickly adds, “And in the boys’ hearts as well. You are loved by us, (y/n).”
“Stop giving me false hope, Zach,” You whisper.
“I’m saying the truth, (y/n). I think you’re gorgeous and I’m sure others do as well!”
The air becomes thin and you can’t breathe. Zachary Herron just called you gorgeous.
“Just hold me, here, Zach.” You say before he can explain.
“Okay,” He puts his hand on the top of your head and pets your hair awkwardly. You choke out a little laugh at his stiffness. You hear him give a stale giggle as well. You start to relax when his hands weave through your hair comfortingly. He runs his fingers through your hair slowly, carefully.
You didn’t realize it at the moment but you weren’t thinking of Jonah in that moment like you had every hour of the day. You were only soaking in the moment of affection from the person who truly did love you.
Title: Small Packages Author: Haru. Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x Reader Prompt: “Say one more word and I swear I’m gonna punch you in the face!” “You’re 4'11, you can’t even reach my face with your fist.”
“Almost!” The girl tried to stretch her arm even further to reach the Nutella which was, to her inconvenience, placed near the back of the second shelf. “Got it…” She leaned forward onto the marble tabletop, her stomach caving in and outlining her ribcage. Her fingers then swiped upon a smooth surface and the girl, feeling accomplished without having to use the goddamn step stool Yugyeom had bought her for these types of occasions, grabbed onto the bottle and brought it close to her, slowly descending down onto the cool, tile floor. Turns she grabbed a can of diced tomatoes instead of the jar of Nutella.
“Oh, I need that,” Jinyoung swiped the can of diced tomatoes and smiled down at the shorter girl, making her pout. He then started to assess the situation: Two slices of bread were warming up in the toaster, knife was stationed to the left of the plate. She must be making bread with Nutella again. “Do you need help with getting something, (Y/N)?”
“I most certainly do not need help.”
“Then use the step stool,” The black-haired idol pointed over to the corner of the dorm to the closet which held the cleaning supplies and, much to her demise, the nefarious step stool. “Isn’t that why Yugyeom got it for you?”
“I refuse to use it!”
“Then how are you going to get the Nutella?” The girl’s eyes travelled to the jar of creamy, chocolate nutty goodness loaded into a plastic hourglass shaped container and whimpered. “I’ll get it without the step stool.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I’ll find a way.” Jinyoung sighed as he shook his head. This girl was even more troublesome than the maknae of their boy group. He then opened the drawer, grabbed the can opener and walked away, not giving an actual fuck anymore. “If you hurt yourself, the first aid kit’s in the washroom!”
“I’m not going to fall…” She muttered as the elder male walked away.
Now. Nutella jar, Height will not be the thing that ruins her.
Not being able to have some toast and you on it, will.
Positioning herself near the counter top, the girl slapped both of her palms near the curved part of the counter top where wood meets marble and hoisted herself up, balancing a bit before she plonked leg onto the counter top. “Alright, so,” She then brought her other leg up and kneeled with her feet tucked under her bum. “My darling Nutella,” She opened the cabinet door, leaning back slightly so that the door wouldn’t hit her, and licked her lips, excited to finally eat her chocolate-y snack. “Come to (Y/N)~”