I was wondering, what if Harry and Hermione had met before Hogwarts?
The first time Harry Potter met Hermione Granger, she was standing with her chin up and her hands on her hips a few paces from the old olive tree in the schoolyard, glaring into the far distance. The wind was trying to twist and buffet her hair into her face, but mostly it was just tangling cheerfully with itself.
Dudley and Piers were busy kicking all the other kids off the play structure, so Harry had retreated out into the grass. He stood a safe distance from the weird girl who was pretending to be a statue and thought wistfully of lunch.
“There’s a fallen bird’s nest,” the girl said in a rapid and certain tumble of syllables. “The boys knocked it out of the tree, but I chased them off and I’m hoping the mama bird comes back. I’m Hermione Granger. We just moved here.”
“Harry,” he said.
“How’d you get that scar?” she said.
“That’s a weird scar for a car accident.”
Harry shrugged. “It killed my parents.”
She blinked quickly at him and even at that distance he wished vaguely that she wore glasses, too, because her gaze was something that really felt like it should have some built-in bluntedness. “Mine are dentists. Mum’s taking me to the library after school, want to come?”
Before they went into Diagon Alley, Harry asked Hagrid if they could find a payphone. Hermione picked up on the first ring.
“Harry! Where have you been? I’ve been trying and trying to call–”
“Sorry, yeah. Um, so, I’m not coming back to school next year, I…” Harry drifted off, staring at Hagrid’s massive moleskin shoulders. The giant man saw him looking and gave him a tentatively cheerful little wave. “It’s been weird, Herm.” He pressed his forehead into the phone stand, but not too hard. “I think you’re the only thing I’m really going to miss.”
“Harry,” Hermione said and Harry started to frown, because that wasn’t her stern and startled voice. That was the voice that meant she was off down a charging war path of other thought and might not have heard him at all. “I’ve been reading.”
“Of course you’ve been reading,” he said. “I’ve been being forcibly hidden from a swarm of post office owls–”
“You’re in books,” she said in breathless delight, squeaking over the telephone line. “First thing we did, of course, after the professor explained, was get her to escort us to a bookstore– a whole bibliography, Harry, a whole world’s bibliography I haven’t even touched– how am I ever going to–” She took in a little calming breath, and murmured, “Different infinities, it’s okay, Hermione, okay.” A sharp exhale and then she tumbled right back into her rushing rivelet of a sentence. “And I picked up a good dozen, besides the school books, of course, and Harry, you’re in books, in Dark Wizardwork of This Century and A Modern Wizards’ History and October’s End: A Biography–”
“Hermione,” said Harry with slow enunciation. “Are you a wizard, too?”
“A witch, I think,” she said. “But I’m still reading up on the sociology of it all.”
Hagrid wouldn’t say Voldemort’s name, but Hermione would. She came over with a stack of books up to her chin, gave the Dursleys her normal pointed little stare that said she’d like to set them a little on fire, and curled up in his cupboard with him.
He supposed she probably could learn how to set them on fire, now, if she really wanted to.
She gave him passages and excerpts with his name in them, with his parents’ names, a home he hadn’t known. There were pictures of a ruined house with the smoke drifting in little curls of ink. There was his mother, smiling and waving in black and white. There was his mother, laid out on the floor, with a sober little caption below it. That picture was still, except for curtains fluttering in the window.
Hermione finally dragged her face far enough up from the pages to see Harry holding his own hand very tightly, and then she closed the book and reached for one about which magical creatures you should pet and which you shouldn’t.
“Sorry,” she said.
“I wanted to know.”
“I’m still sorry.”
The Grangers drove Harry, Hermione, Hedwig, and their trunks to King’s Cross Station. Mrs. Granger kissed the top of Hermione’s head while Mr. Granger mussed Harry’s mop of dark hair affectionately, and then they swapped children and repeated the treatment. Hermione pushed her hair back out of her face and marched them all to Platform 9 ¾, the entrance mechanism of which she had read all about.
“Before you go,” Mrs. Granger said, “let’s buy you some sandwiches? I don’t know what sort of food they’ll have past that–”
“There’s a trolley,” Hermione said, but her parents dragged them off to a snack kiosk anyway, Harry happily in tow.
As they were on Hermione’s tight schedule, there were plenty of compartments open, and they took one all to themselves– well, to themselves, Hedwig, and Hermione’s books, which took up two seats. (Harry would wheedle Hagrid into taking him to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping that year, where he would get Hermione a carry-all bag for her small personal library.)
Hermione took a long preparatory breath while Harry unwrapped his sandwich. “Harry? What if I go and sit down under the Hat and I just sit and sit there, and then it says I’m not a witch at all?” Hermione said, the words getting more squashed together and higher-pitched as she went. “I’m not magic, it just got confused, and they send me home? Harry, I don’t want to be a dentist. Other people’s mouths are disgusting–”
“You’re not going to get kicked out,” Harry said, chewing amiably on his sandwich. It was not good, but the Dursleys hadn’t bothered with any breakfast for him and he hadn’t wanted to bother the Grangers about it either. It was a bit dry on the way down, but it settled warmly in his belly.
“But what if I do?”
“I’ll stage a protest,” said Harry. “Refuse to do my homework til they reinstate you.”
“You’re not going to do your homework anyway.”
“See how dedicated I am to you.”
She made a dismissive little noise at him, wringing her hands in her lap.
“Hermione,” he said, and she lifted her bush of hair to look at him. “You’re the most magical person I know. It’s gonna be alright.”
She gave a long slow blink but whatever she might have said was interrupted by an uneven knock at the door. “Um,” said the pudgy boy standing there. “I’ve lost my toad.”
Hermione leapt to her feet. “Where did you see him last?”
Harry followed in the wake of her forward charge, but he brought the rest of his sandwich with him.
(Harry did not know this and would not know this until Mrs. Granger mentioned it casually over a Christmas dinner years and years later– but she and Mr. Granger reported the Dursleys for child abuse and neglect, over and over.
The reports got lost– minds scrubbed down, papers vanished– but they kept calling in reports. They considered kidnapping. They couldn’t imagine why the wizarding world might want to keep their chosen one somewhere so toxic, why they might want to keep this underfed child and his messy hair with those people.
“My mother left me a blood protection spell,” said Harry, whose scar had not ached in years. He poked at his mashed potatoes under the focused attention of Mrs. Granger’s stern little forehead wrinkle. “I had to live with family, blood family.”
“Then they should have made them treat you right,” Mrs. Granger said, as though it was that simple.
Mr. Granger gave Harry another helping of peas.)
On the steps of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy thrust out his hand to the Boy Who Lived, who surveyed the open palm with amusement. “Thanks,” said Harry. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself.”
The redheaded, freckly, hand-me-down clothes boy Malfoy had been bothering snorted. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets.
“You’re the kid with the rat from the train,” Hermione said. “And the spell that didn’t work.”
“It was a cool rhyme anyway, though,” Harry said. “Hi, I’m Harry, this is Hermione.”
“Yeah, she said, then. I’m Ron– uh, Ron Weasley.”
“Yeah, he said,” Harry said, rolling his eyes Malfoy’s direction. “Come on, you wanna stand with us? Hermione will tell you about the ceiling.”
“It’s enchanted!” said Hermione.
When Hermione founded SPHEW, Harry was not surprised. He had spent too many schoolyard days escorting spiders to safe spaces, keeping vigil over fallen bird’s nests, and watching Hermione stand up on her desk chair in heated pitched verbal battles with teachers. She’d driven at least two teachers to tears and taught most of them at least a few new vocabulary words.
Over summers and holidays, Harry and Hermione took Ron to the movies, to the seashore, to Hermione’s top three favorite libraries. Hermione’s Aunt Meg taught them how to whittle under a cloud of cigarette smoke that clung to Harry’s hair until he washed it out.
In this life, there were things in the Muggle world that Harry missed, that he wanted to see again. He loved Hogwarts, and he nominally went home to the Dursleys each summer, but he knew he always had a bed at the Grangers’. He knew the weird system they used to organize the books on their shelves. He’d pass Mrs. Granger the marmalade in mornings before she had to ask. He got free dental check-ups all his life, which was good because the Dursleys rarely bothered taking him into the dentist.
The whole Granger family tore apart newspapers every morning, calling article excerpts across the table and pointing each other to their favorite journalists. Before Hermione even first stepped onto Hogwarts grounds she got a subscription to the Daily Prophet. During Harry’s fourth year, Mr. and Mrs. Granger got Arthur Weasley to buy them an owl and then began an unending campaign of furious letters to the editor that never got published.
In a crumbling boat shed, Severus Snape died, but first he pressed a shining bundle of memory into Harry’s hands.
The fight was still going– Neville newly broad and certain; Luna whipping out quiet, barbed little curses; Ginny charging like an army in and of herself. Hermione had her arms full of basilisk fangs. Ron was moving people like bishops and knights. But Harry had a long damp walk before him, so he had time to wade through that life not his own.
Severus had been a lot of things– one of them was in love. Harry dragged his feet through forest mulch, seeing a little redheaded girl in sunlight, hands not his own offering her transformed flowers. It had been just them for so long. For Severus, for so long, there had been no one but him and Lily.
Even in Hogwarts, Severus had drifted through the classrooms and common room and library. He had believed in magic, in the cool slide of good knives through dried roots, and in Lily– always, always in Lily– Lily in sunlight, Lily chewing on her thumbnail over Transfiguration homework, Lily flicking soapsuds at him in her kitchen at home over summer, Lily pig-tailed and seven, wide-eyed as he showed her the first magic she’d ever seen, a leaf to a flower, a bit of sunlight to a bit of fire.
He had loved, and it had been a real thing. He had fucked up, and it had been a real thing, that heartbreak, that regret.
When Harry turned the Stone in his hand and saw his mother step into pseudo-life in that forest clearing, he thought I wish I’d known you. He thought about how she was in sepia and gray, here, just like in the pictures in the pages of Hermione’s books.
But he was also thinking about Severus. He was remembering Lily in sunlight, remembering her walking away, remembering her in that same cold photographed sprawl but in color–in grief–in bruised knees and heaving gasps.
Severus had been the first to find Lily’s body and it had felt like someone had cut the sunlight out of him. Harry was living through that grief, but he was also living through the wail of the child crying unacknowledged. His tiny pudgy hands were wrapped around the guardrail of his crib.
Harry was thinking about a girl standing in a field like a statue, hands on hips. He was thinking about Hermione’s raised hand ignored in Potions, or the way Snape had sneered that he didn’t see a difference in her cursed teeth. Love had made him brave, perhaps. It had killed him, but it had not made Severus good.
Harry wondered if his mother would have escorted spiders to safe places, if she would have stood guard over fallen bird’s nests, if she had worried herself to pieces that first time on the Hogwarts Express about the Hat telling her she didn’t really belong.
“I wish I’d known you,” he told the specter of Lily Potter. He held his own hands tight.
For Harry, for so long, there had been no one but him and Hermione. Even in Hogwarts, there were things only she would understand– parking meters, the cobweb ceiling of his cupboard, the silence of marmalade at breakfast. Harry believed in magic and he believed Hermione Granger was the most magical thing he knew.
“They’ll be alright,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I was alright, mum. I wish I’d known you– but I wasn’t alone.” He squeezed his hands tighter– Hermione showing him her favorite spots in her favorite libraries; Ron shyly showing them the Burrow like it was anything less than a magnificent masterpiece of warm rooms and patchwork architecture; Hermione standing in the field like a statue, bushy-haired and seven years old, jaw set. “She wasn’t alone, either,” he said. “And she’ll be alright. Ron will be alright. I have to do this, don’t I?”
“We are so proud of you,” Lily said.
“Thanks,” said Harry. “Sorry,” said Harry, and wondered if Hermione was going to be able to read the little passages and excerpts with his name in them, with those un-moving pictures and the sober captions underneath.
He dropped the Stone.
When Harry Potter died for the first time, crumpled in forest mulch, he didn’t go to a squeaky clean King’s Cross Station. There were no crescent moon glasses to twinkle kindly at him.
He stood under an old olive tree and a little girl looked up at him with those eyes that needed shielding, needed blunting, needed a manufacturer’s warning. “A wind’s coming,” she said. “You can just go. It will be easy.”
He stood outside Diagon Alley, a Muggle payphone tucked between his shoulder and ear. “You’re in books,” she said, with a breathlessness he’d barely heard for years. There had been too much weight on his shoulders, on hers. “You’re done,” she said. “You’ve done enough. Go on, tap three bricks up and two to the left.”
He stood in Godric’s Hollow, in the snow, holding her hand, looking at the ruined house. “You should have had this,” she said. She was seven and small, not nineteen and weary like she had been in life. The sky was overcast but there was sunlight glinting in her hair. “You can still have this. You can have everything.”
“You’re not real,” Harry said.
“But you are,” she said. “There’s a wind coming. It will be easy.”
“You’ve never done anything easy in your life,” he said.
She took both his hands– hers were so small against his grown fingers, his broad palms, and how had they done everything with hands that small? Basilisks and werewolves; shouting down teachers from atop desk chairs.
Harry was sitting in his cupboard in the light of its single bulb and he was too big for this space, his shoulders curling forward, his head bowing. She was standing there with sunlight still in her hair and her arms piled high with books. “You don’t belong here,” she said. “It will hurt. You won’t fit, if you go back. Everything can be easy. Everything can be fine. It doesn’t have to hurt, ever again.”
“Hermione,” he said and leaned forward, put his hands on her hands where they were gripping her books. “It’ll be alright.” He smiled and she was staring at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes. “We never fit, remember?”
“We tried,” she said and Harry squeezed her small hands gently.
“Send me back,” he said. “I want to go home.”
After the battle, as Hogwarts rang with frantic healing, crushing grief, and raging celebration, the three of them retreated to the library. Hermione hauled them down narrow aisles until she found her favorite tucked-away nook and they all collapsed on sagging sofas that seemed to not have been touched at all by the war.
“Well,” said Hermione. “What now?”
Ron let his head flop back against the seat, hair tumbling all over his pale forehead. “I’m going to nap,” he said. “For a month.”
“That’s not physiologically possible,” said Hermione. “Or if it is, then it’d be a coma.”
“It’s a metaphor,” Ron said, then: “no, wait, a hyperbole.” Hermione beamed at him. He blushed a little and elbowed her gently.
“After this, you’ll be in books, you know,” Harry told her.
“Not– I mean–” Hermione rubbed at her nose furiously. Ron laughed enough to wake up and sit up, throwing an arm around her shoulders.
While Ron came up with outlandish titles for Hermione’s eventual many biographies, Harry pulled his feet up onto the sofa. He watched the candles float quietly between the shelves.
Once there was a man named Mr. Paddiwak. Mr. Paddiwak worked at a bank, and he was a very good banker indeed.
One day, a frog hopped into the bank and right up on to Mr. Paddiwak’s desk.
“Hello!” the frog said cheerfully “I’m here to take out a loan, the woman on the desk said you could help me?”
Mr. Paddiwak frowned a little, and then said
“Well, perhaps I might be able to help. Do you have anything to offer for collateral?”
The frog nodded and offered up a paperweight in the shape of an elephant.
“Will this do?” He asked, and Mr. Paddiwak frowned again
“I’m not sure. It’s certainly…unusual. Let me ask my manager” and Mr. Paddiwak excused himself to speak to his manager
“Excuse me sir” Mr. Paddiwack said knocking on his manager’s door “I have a frog here who wants to take out a loan, but all he has to offer up for collateral is this elephant shaped paperweight. Does that qualify?“
The manage looked up at Mr. Paddiwak and said gruffly
"It’s a knick-knack, Paddiwak! Give the frog a loan!”
@lilacxsehun requested: Jungkook/Reader inspired by the lyrics “He says I know what I want and I want it now I want you cause I’m Mr. Vain” in which Jungkook is the CEO of a big company you work for. Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: Fluff/Smut; CEO/Boss AU Word Count: 12,037 Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted to try my hand at a CEO AU so I was very excited to get this request. As I was writing this, I wasn’t entirely sure if Jungkook’s position should constitute him more as a CEO or a boss but eh, ignore the technicalities.
Summary: In which an awkward first encounter with your new boss gives Jeon Jungkook all the more reason to make your job an interesting experience.
To say you are late would be a complete and utter, tragic and ill-fitting, understatement. By the time you were supposed to be here at the building, you had just finished adding the last minute touches to your hair with the straightener, and by the time you were supposed to be doing that you needed to finish your makeup and by the time that was happening—!
Well, you get the idea.
Point is, you are running incredibly behind on your schedule—as if life just wanted to prove a point that no matter how much it seemed you could stitch your life together by managing to land an interview for a company actually relevant to your degree, something always had to go wrong. It just so happens that the bad day you constantly worried about just had to occur today. On the day of your interview.
You think it might be enough to get you to scream. First, the power just had to cut off the night before, disarming your alarm clock and resetting all the previous settings so instead of just beeping at some abnormal time it just didn’t ring at all. Given that you had also forgotten to plug your phone in for charging the night before as well, there was no way that could have been any source of an alternative method for waking up. All of that led up to the simple fact regarding the issue that you have a very difficult time waking up in the morning even with an alarm, so having none only elevated that struggle, bursting out of bed after frantically wondering about the time, and attempting to compress an hour’s worth of preparation into 5 minutes.
“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs. “It’s
Sherlock hurried down the stairs as quickly as he could.
“Ah, (y/n). Finally. John and Mary are preparing dinner upstairs and I’ll be
heading out for a bit.”
“Sherlock!” You said, exasperated. “You promised you’d stay.
Even if you had a case. It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake.”
“I hate Christmas.” He said with a sneer. “It brings about
carolers and holiday cheer.”
“Oh, Sherlock. Promise me you’ll still come home for dinner
“Food is for the weak and I told everyone not to get me
anything. I also did not get anything for anyone else…” He said trailing off.
“Fine. I promise I’ll be home for dinner and presents.” He
said rolling his eyes. “Even if I don’t eat and I don’t have presents.”
“Good boy.” You said smiling brightly. You bounced into the
building away from the cold, chilling air of London. Sherlock moved past you
and into the freezing air.
“I’m not a boy (y/n). I’m a man. A very smart one at that.” He
said quickly, as if in a rush, which to be honest he probably was. He then
briskly walked away. Mrs. Hudson gave you a sad smile.
“Sorry about him dear. That’s Sherlock though. Always
dashing about. Anyhow, might you come up for a spot of tea? John and Mary’s
food smells so delicious.”
You smiled kindly at her, “Of course, Mrs. Hudson. Thank
“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock’s loud voice rang from downstairs.
“I’m back for Christmas dinner.” He said in a disgusted tone you could tell he
wasn’t really trying to hide. He walked upstairs quickly, taking the steps two
at a time. He walked past you hastily, using his coat to conceal something that
he was carrying. “Mrs. Hudson, John, (y/n) don’t wait up. I’ll be in my room
wrapping things up. I’ll be back in a wink.” He said winking at you. You
blushed profusely. Trying to cover it up, you said, “Shall we start eating?”
“Of course.” John said with a happy smile.
“Mary, the pie looks delicious.” You said to her.
“Oh, I didn’t make it. John did. He’s a great baker.” She
said bragging slightly about her wonderful husband.
“Well then John, it looks simply divine.” You said excited
to dig in to the wonderful looking food.
Time Skip – After Dinner
“Oh, the meal was so scrumptious.” Mrs. Hudson commented, a
little bit sleepy from the meal.
“It was.” You said, a
bit sleepy yourself. “It was too bad Sherlock didn’t eat anything.” You said
clearing the last of the plates from the table. As if on cue Sherlock emerged
from his room.
“Time for presents.” He said lazily, as if bored with the
whole affair and idea of Christmas. Little did you know, inside he was having a
silent panic attack. He secretly slipped something under the tree.
“Ok.” You said giddily, smiling like a child. “I’m excited
to see what you got me Mr. Holmes.” You said nudging him in the side.
“Nothing.” He responded. “I told you earlier that I didn’t
get anyone anything.”
You looked down, slightly saddened by this sentence. Your
Christmas cheer was being ruined by Sherlock.
“You know you don’t have to be such a spoilsport.”
“I actually do.”
“The idea of buying people presents gives some people
anxiety. Anxiety about not getting the right thing. In fact, it is
scientifically proven that people have more stress around the holidays.” He
said with a completely straight face.
“Really Sherlock? You don’t buy people presents because
you’re afraid you’ll get the wrong thing?”
“That is what I said, yes.” He said rolling his eyes.
“Sherlock… We’re your friends. We’ll be happy with anything
you give us.”
“Really?” He said raising an eyebrow. “Last Christmas John
said he loved my gift. He lied. I read his body language. He was not at all
pleased with my gift. I was given a mental talent for reading people and it is
a blessing and a curse. Let me ask you something, (y/n). Do you sometimes wish
I were a normal person? That I’m unable to read people like a book?”
Without missing a heartbeat, you answered his question
honestly, “No. You are perfect. If you weren’t the way you were you would never
have met me. You never would have been ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’, and I never
would have come to you with my case.”
He clasped his hands together, thinking deeply. “Hmm… You’re
“As I always am.” You said.
“Not always.” He corrected quickly.
You laughed. John and Mary came out of the kitchen. “What’s
so funny?” John asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” You said. “Let’s go. I can’t possibly
wait any longer. I can feel the presents calling to me.”
“Presents don’t talk.” Sherlock mentioned quietly.
“They do in my mind palace.” You said, teasing him.
He sighed tiredly, “Let’s just get on with the presents.”
John cleared his throat. “Ok then. Let’s see, first
present.” He picked up a box with green wrapping. He said out loud, “For Mary
and John, from (y/n).” You smiled as they unwrapped it together. They pulled
out a small onesie.
“It’s for the baby.” You said smiling brightly. “Do you guys
Mary turned to you. “Oh, (y/n). We love it!” She came over
to hug you.
John said, “Thank you (y/n). It’s a wonderful gift.”
You picked the next box. “For Sherlock, from John and Mary.”
You smiled at the couple as you unwrapped the present for Sherlock. You pulled
out a hat. You laughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at the hat in
disgust. You smiled at Mary, “Thanks guys.” You looked at John and mouthed,
“I’ll make him wear it.” The next present was for Mrs. Hudson, from John and
Mary. It was a nice pink shawl. John and Mary had given you a nice coat that
matched Sherlock’s. The presents from John and Mary were all wonderful. Next,
it was your turn to give everyone presents. You had already given John and Mary
their present so you gave Mrs. Hudson hers. Sher pulled out a blouse, a skirt,
and a pair of heels all matching the same royal blue color. “Thank you, dear.” She
said smiling at you.
“Of course, Mrs. Hudson.” You said, matching her smile. Then
you handed Sherlock his present. He opened it and was surprised to see a brand
new blue scarf.
“Thank you very much, (y/n).” He said looking over at you.
You smiled at him, “Anything for you, Sherlock.”
Mrs. Hudson seemed to be ready to bounce out of her seat.
Sher quickly handed everyone their presents. Your gift was a nice jumper. “Mrs.
Hudson, did you knit this all by yourself?” You inquired.
“Yes I did.” She said quite proudly. Sherlock’s was a fancy
“Mrs. Hudson, where did you get this?” He asked.
“Oh, it was from a real fancy shop. I know you have a lot of
suits, but this one just seemed to pop to me. It would look perfect on you. I
mean you have all black suits; you never wear blue. I thought it would look
real nice on you.”
“Thank you. I like it.” He said cautiously, as if his words
might offend her. Everyone looked around. There were no more presents to be
opened. Everyone looked expectantly at Sherlock. They didn’t seem surprised,
however. They soon all packed up and left, save for Mrs. Hudson, who had gone
upstairs. You started to clean up the trash on the ground from the presents.
Sherlock watched you carefully, studying you. You had finished clearing all of
the wrapping paper from around the tree when a little twinkle from under the
tree caught your eye. You reached a hand under the tree and felt a box. You
pulled it out. It was a small box covered with shiny silver wrapping paper.
Carefully you turned it over, ‘To my dear (y/n), from your Sherlock,’ it said
in fancy writing on the wrapping paper. You turned to Sherlock and he gave you
a smile. “I didn’t want you to open it in front of everyone.” He said smirking
at your surprised face.
“Here, I thought you were a pompous jackass who was too good
to get anyone anything.” You commented, joking lightly. Sherlock only rolled
“Open it.” He said. “Before I change my mind and return it.”
“Now I know what you meant when you said you were in your
room, ‘wrapping things up’. You meant it literally, that you actually were
‘wrapping something up’. Gosh, you are clever.”
“I know.” He said, sarcastically. “Now open it.”
You excitedly ripped off the wrapping paper. Inside was a
black square velvet box. You gasped in surprise. It was from Tiffany’s. You
traced your fingers along the velvet on the outside of the box. “What is it?”
You asked Sherlock, looking over at him. He only smiled mysteriously.
“Open it and see.”
You opened the box to see the diamond necklace you had been
drooling over for a long time every time you passed the window of Tiffany’s.
“Sherlock! You didn’t have to get me this.”
“I actually did. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how every
day when we walked past the store you looked longingly and lovingly at this
necklace. I read John, I can read you too.”
“Sherlock! This is just too much. I-I” You were at a loss
for words. You looked down at the box and noticed there was another, much
smaller, box inside. You picked it up. “Sherlock… What’s this?”
He stayed silent. So you took the box carefully in your
hands and opened it up. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring. You gasped. “Oh
my. Oh my gosh.” You looked up at Sherlock. He smiled mysteriously.
“I see no need to get on one knee and all so I’ll just say
it. Will you (y/n) (y/l/n) the most beautiful and clever and kind and funny
person I have ever met and also my favorite human being in this entire wretched
world, agree to be my wife?”
“Yes, Sherlock. Yes of course I’ll be your wife.” You stood
up to hug him and as you hugged you noticed a small green plant hanging on top
of Sherlock’s head. You smiled. As you pulled apart from the hug you pecked
Sherlock on the lips.
“What was that for?” He questioned.
“Tradition.” You responded with a smirk.
“I hate tradition.”
“Is there anything you don’t hate?”
“I don’t hate you.”
You smiled softly. “Hey, don’t get soft on me now Mr.
Prompt: Hey, I love your writings! Whenever you get the chance can you do a Peter Parker x reader where the reader is Tony Stark’s daughter and doesn’t know that they are dating but some of the other avengers start to find out. Maybe they are caught making out or accidentally flirting with each other in front of people. then the reader and Peter have to get them to keep it a secret? Please and Thank You!!
Word Count: 857
A/N: Written by Daisy. Also, I apologize for the wait!
“Peter!” You exclaimed, swatting your boyfriend away, “We’re going to get caught! My dad is going to kill me!” The two of you were seated in one of the communal living rooms of the new Avengers facility.
Peter groaned, rolling away from you and into a seated position, “Mr. Stark won’t kill anyone, let’s be honest.” He still had a knack for calling your dad, ‘Mr. Stark’, regardless of whether or not he was addressing him directly.
“I’d rather he found out later rather than sooner!” You insisted, sending a glare in Peter’s direction.
“It’s been two months! What’s the worst that can happen if we tell him? You don’t think he’d trust me to take care of you?”
You shook your head, “He’s just-he’s really, and I mean really protective Peter. I just want to enjoy some more time alone with you, without all the hovering, you know. And the teasing we’d get from every other person who lives here.”
“As you wish,” Peter said simply, “But if we went to your room nobody would see us-“
You punched his shoulder, “Just pick a movie Peter, we can’t always be sneaking about.”
(Regarding your reddie cheating fic) (I hated but loved it uGH) Ummm no offense but in my HCs reddie never breaks up and they get married and live happily ever after 😂 Can u pls write a fic where ( it starts out angsty) (gets fluffy toward the end) they make up??
A/N: This is the first story I’m posting on Tumblr! I hope you like it! I will always take requests if you wanna send me any. Anyways please enjoy!
PS: This is just part 1 and it maybe kinda slow.
not my gif
~ Admin Brooklyn
“What are we going to do?” Your mother whisper quietly to her husband. Her disappointment in your father was clear, as her face framed her emotions, all of them ranging from anger and frustration to anxiety and worry.
“I don’t know, but I’m so sorry.” Your dad said, remorse filling his voice. “I’m sorry. I’ve should’ve found a better way. I could’ve-”
“Are they coming?” Your mother cut him off, igniting a new problem in their minds.
“I don’t know. They didn’t say they would.” Your father said. As if on cue, the doorbell chimed through the house. Little three-year-old you smiled and ran towards the door.
“Mommy, Mommy someone’s here!” You giggled joyfully. As you stood in front of the door waiting for someone to open it. Your mother picked you up and carried you away from the front door.
“Sweetheart, (Y/N), go play in your room please.” You looked at your mother with wide eyes and nodded your head. She carefully set you down and you headed towards your room. Your mother watched as you climbed the steps and went to your room. The sound of the doorbell broke her trance. She looked at the door with panic and fear as she turned the knob. She plastered a smile on her face as the door swung open.
Her smile dropped as her visitor sprouted a malicious one. Before her stood Mr. Kwon, a high class mafia boss, one of the richest men in the world, and the man your father owes more than 3 billion dollars too.
“Hello. You must be (Y/M/N). I’m sure your know who I am.” He said. His voice was smooth and sharp, like a knife. He was older than what his appearance said, although a few grey hairs had threatened show. He had cunning cat-like eyes and thin lips. He was surrounded by men, all covered in dark clothing, except a little boy whom wore red and clinged to Mr. Kwon’s legs. He had big round cheeks and short jet black hair with dark brown eyes. He couldn’t be older than five. Your father walked up to your mother and gave Mr. Kwon a loose awkward smile.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He said his voice wavering. “Please come in.”
Mr. Kwon gave him a curt nod, a devilish smile plastered on his face. Mr. Kwon held the little boy’s free hand, the boy’s other hand was occupied by a bright red gift bag. Mr. Kwon lead the little boy inside, then followed by all the men around him.
“Thank you for inviting us. Who knows what would happen if you didn’t.” Mr. Kwon said. He took off his shoes then turned towards the little boy to help. His shoes already off and neatly set together on the mat holding other shoes. You mom and dad led the way towards your kitchen. Mr. Kwon sat down and pulled the boy closer to him.”This is my son Ji Yong. He seemed lonely, and I’ve heard that you have a daughter.”
At his words your mom and dad shot up, terrified about Mr. Kwon’s plans. Young Ji Yong clutched the gift bag to his chest. Mr. Kwon smiled at their fear, his eyes scanning over your parents. “Why don’t you call her over?”
His request sent chills up your mother’s spine. She frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but your father stopped her. She glared at him, until he nudged her, hinting at how the men around them were reaching for their guns. Ji Yong started at your mother watching her first instinct to defy his father.
“(Y/N), come down here please.” Your father called stiffly. Ji Yong watched your parents carefully, his gaze then switching to the men that came with them. The men listened to his father out of respect, while your parents listened out of fear. Ji Yong sometimes envied the control that his father had. Ji Yong looked up at his father, who looked down and smiled fondly at him. Little footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs at an uneven, yet steady pace. You walked towards the kitchen, a smile on your face. As you stepped into the kitchen, your smile fell. You looked at mom and a small smile formed on your face as you ran to her. You eyed the men in the room, your innocent eyes staring out of curiosity, as you hid behind your mother’s legs.
“Hi there. You must be (Y/N).” Mr. Kwon said. Your parents grabbed your shoulders and pulled you closer to them. You made eye contact with Mr. Kwon, who looked at you expectantly. You nodded your head then looked at the floor. Mr. Kwon chuckled at your cuteness and guided Ji Yong so he stands in front of him. Ji Yong was staring at you, watching you in curiosity. You didn’t seem afraid, just shy.
“This is my son Ji Yong. He came to play with you (Y/N).” Mr. Kwon said. Your head shot up, eyes wide. You’ve never had someone to play with before. Ji Yong smiled at you and you stepped away from your mother. Her grip on your shoulders tightened as she pulled you back to her. The men in black were quick to react as their hands went to their belts, grabbing their weapons.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen, calm down. We’re trying to make friends. Isn’t that right (Y/L/N)?” Mr. Kwon’s taunting smile threatened your mother and father. You watched the men as their hands backed away slowly from their guns. Your father pried your mother’s hands off your shoulders. Ji Yong stepped towards you as you walked away from your mother and towards him.
“Hi there.” Ji Yong said softly. His voice was quiet, but reached your ears softly. You gave him a shy wave and looked at him with wide curious eyes. He smile softly and stepped closer to you.
“(Y/N), can you take Ji Yong to play up in your room? I need to talk to your parents.” Mr. Kwon’s voice asked. His voice very calm and relaxed, while your parents quivred in fear. You nodded your head and walked towards Ji Yong, grabbing his hand in your tiny one.
“Come on.” You said quietly, still feeling slightly shy. You were happy to play with somebody, but that doesn’t mean you knew them. Your parent’s had always said to never trust a stranger, and you still didn’t know anything about Ji Yong, except for his name. You lead him away from the kitchen and towards the stairs leading to the upper level of the house. Ji Yong’s hand was able to wrap around yours easily, almost engulfing your tiny one. The red gift bag made crinkling noises as he walked up stairs with you guiding him up and out.
Your parents watched Mr. Kwon, his venomous smile ready to unleash his hidden plan that would soon haunt them. Everyone could hear the footsteps as they reached the top of the steps, as well as the rustling the gift bag made as Ji Yong climbed the steps. It wasn’t until the squeaking of your door, followed by the sound of it shutting, did Mr. Kwon finally say something.
“You’re in quite the pickle aren’t you (Y/L/N)?” Mr. Kwon said, getting up from his seat and stalking his way towards the refrigerator. He opened it carelessly and grabbed a drink. “Three billion dollars. That’s a lot of money. Not to mention the men, and the time I lost without that money. You sir, owe me a lot in order to compensate what I lost.”
“It’s okay though, I’ve decided there are a few things we could do to fix your little problem.” Mr. Kwon had them and he knew it. The way your father’s eyes lit up, but at the same time your mother’s skeptical eyes glared, preparing for what he had planned for her family.
“Your daughter is wonderful, by the way. She seems very shy, yet I think she’ll be very independent.” Your mother narrowed her eyes at him. Mr. Kwon just smirked, happy that he was able to get some reaction out of her. He loved seeing how people tried to defy him, like they would have a chance to prove him wrong, especially when he had the power to be right.
“Stay away from my daughter. She has nothing to do with this.” Your mother said. The men around them reached for their guns, but made no effort to aim them.
“Sweetheart you are in no position to be making orders. Your husband here, has wasted a lot of my money, my time, and my men. You must know how valuable money is. Things always seem to be more expensive when you have kids, don’t they.” Mr. Kwon paused, taking a sip of his drink. His pause went on a little longer, not only for dramatic effect, but he wanted to watch as fear sunk into your mother’s eyes. “I just want to make sure I have what I need to solidify my child’s future.”
“What do you mean?” Your father asked cautiously. Mr. Kwon malicious smile appeared once again. He stayed quiet until he heard what he had been waiting for. The house seemed to echo your screams soon followed by a quieter, more joyful fit of giggles. Your parents faces fell containing their horror and shock.
You smiled and clung to Ji Yong as he giggled and smiled. You had been playing together for quite sometime, enjoy each other’s company, well at least you were. After you had gotten to your room he had given you his gift. The shiny red bag with the red and white tissue paper preventing you from seeing to the gift. Ji Yong watched as you unwrapped the gift slowly but surely making your way to the object his father picked out for you. Ji Yong knew what was going on down stairs. He already knew the ultimatum his father would be giving your parents in a minute. He knew what his father had planned for his future, and Ji Yong trusted his father enough to let him take control. So he sat back and watched your eyes light up with joy as you pulled out a fuzzy deep blue blanket that held another item. Along with the blanket was a stuffed dog, a blue ribbon acting as a small collar. You pulled the blanket around you and held onto the dog, creating a small tent just for yourself.
“Do you like it?” Ji Yong asked. You smile and nodded happily.
“Thank you.” You said sweetly. Ji Yong gave you his wide smile and scooted closer to you. “Wanna help me make a fort?”
After a few minutes of setting up, Ji Yong pushing chairs and pillows, and you sitting with blankets directing him where things should go, the fort was done and filled with all your stuffed animals. Ji Yong crawled his way into the fort, making you giggle as he commando crawled. You scooted over to make room for him, only to run into Miss Cupcake, your stuffed unicorn, causing you to sit on her hind legs due to the lack of space. He smiled at you and grabbed a storybook, showing off his skill of reading to you. Although the few words he skipped caused rifts in the story, you enjoyed the effort he made and soon you two started playing games.
Half way through the game of hide and seek in your room (which didn’t last two round thanks to Miss Cupcake being a tattle tale). Ji Yong had found you in your closet and scared you by tickling your sides causing you to scream. You fell over on top of him in a fit of giggles and kept rolling until his torture ended. By then he was smiling and you were a fit of giggles. Ji Yong would just smile at you and you couldn’t stop laughing.
“You are not going to take my daughter away from me and give her away like some prize.” Your mother growled at Mr. Kwon. He raised his eyebrow in amusement as the men around them pulled out their guns and aimed them at your mother. Your father pulled her closer to him and held her tightly against his chest. Calming down, her growling of ungodly words had settled to a glare as Mr. Kwon casually sipped his drink. Your giggles still echoing in the house.
“You see, I planned to let her live with you. Let you raise her, teach her what she’ll need to know, until Ji Yong can take my spot. Then she’ll become apart of the mafia world, alongside my son. Or we can continue this, let you struggle and fight to save your only daughter. Which will end up with both of you dead on the floor, and (Y/N) an orphan. I guess we’ll just have to take her in early then. So your choice (Y/L/N), now or later.” Mr. Kwon stood patiently waiting for their answer. Your mother calmed down, but her glare was steady. The men lowered their weapons as your mother nodded her head and Mr. Kwon smiled at his victory.
“Good choice.” Mr. Kwon was cut off by hurried foot steps and the sound of giggling. You ran into the kitchen, the fuzzy blue blanket still wrapped around you. You hid behind your mother’s legs, your giggling dying down. Ji Yong ran to catch up with you and caught you in the kitchen. Your giggles grew back to life again and you ran away from your mother and towards Mr. Kwon. You hid behind his legs, until he picked you up.
“Do you like your gift (Y/N)?” He asked sweetly. You nodded your head shyly and buried yourself in the blanket more.
“She’s still shy around you dad.” Ji Yong said. Mr. Kwon looked down at Ji Yong and smiled. He set you down carefully then smiled at your parents. They watched in horror as you giggle playfully with Ji Yong, him tickling you as you fell onto the floor again.
“This has been wonderful, but we must get going Ji Yong, you have to get to bed soon.” Mr. Kwon said, a knowing smile on his face. A whine sounded from both you and Ji Yong as you two stopped playing. Ji Yong helped you up and then sent a smile your way. You couldn’t help but giggle as you covered his head with the blanket once more. He smiled at you then pulled away and looked up at his father. Mr. Kwon guided Ji Yong towards his shoes and got ready to leave, with you trailing behind them silently. You gave Ji Yong one last smile, which was quickly returned by a wide one of his own.
“Goodbye little (Y/N), hopefully we’ll see you soon.” Mr. Kwon said sweetly at you. You smiled back at him and gave him a small wave.
“I hope you understand our deal (Y/L/N). We don’t want anything to get ruined.” Mr. Kwon said, his malicious smile returning once more. Your father gave him a curt nod, satisfying Mr. Kwon.
“Bye Bye Yongie.” You said to Ji Yong smiling. Mr. Kwon smiled down at his shoes, while your parents stood motionless. Ji Yong turned and smiled at you and waved. His shoes on and ready to go.
“Bye (Y/N). I’ll see you later.” Ji Yong replied. Mr. Kwon held Ji Yong’s hand and walked out the door, leaving you to wonder when they’ll come back.
2d was a teenager during the 90s which means that he knows all the lyrics to all the quintessential 90s songs. when noodle was little they would blast backstreet boys and nsync throughout kong studios and dramatically sing along and jump on the couch pretending to put on concerts. it helped get noodle used to performing and also taught her how to pronounce words in english. even now as an adult noodle will start playing i want it that way on the home speaker system and 2d will show up in the doorway twenty seconds later dramatically screeching “TELL ME WHY AIN’T NOTHING BUT A HEAAAARTACHE.” they both go OFF and have accidentally broken multiple items because they were jamming out so hard.
murdoc is half mexican from his mom’s side. it’s part of the reason he went to mexico after phase 1 and why he can speak spanish. he learned rudimentary spanish from visiting his mom in the sanatorium as a little kid, but since he couldn’t visit her much and she died when he was about 11 or 12 he had to teach himself the rest of the language in his 20s.