#like the fic and reader just have to follow george's anxiety of Oh God Did I Put Matty In A Situation He Hates

[lookedlikethebins]

Fuckkkk I hadn’t thought about producer George talking about/with matty in interviews!! I’m so excited

Truthfully, I hadn't either until today!! I was originally thinking it would maybe at George's house (interviewing in his home studio/a magazine focused on his set-up and gear more than any Personal Profile) and the interviewer bumps into Matty just putting away laundry or doing dishes on their way back from the bathroom. Or someone writing a different piece is sitting in while George and another artist are working together and Matty comes in and gives the artist and George coffees—and the interviewer assumes Matty is the Coffee Boy for the studio and tells him their coffee order...

Either approach I think it would be fun to try and figure out TA Matty's blend of playing it cool for George's sake (while waiting for his cue) but also very much wanting it to be known he's not just Anybody.

[teddy06writes]

With Ghastly Consequences

Part Two of A Dangerous Game

{I wasn’t going to do this till later but ThE IdEaS were flowing}

Requested by this anon: “I don’t mean to be a bother but if you could possible make a part 2 for the “a dangerous game” fic that you made? It was amazing!!”

and this one: “ Dude I need more poly Dream team with SBI family reader what if reader came back as a ghost but it’s like Ghostbur so she doesn’t remember everything?”

Sooo....

Dream x George x Sapnap x Reader + sleepy boys x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: yelling, swearing, mentioned character death (its you, you died in the last one)

premise: after your death, everything was hazy; this is an account of the events sparked by your ghostly return

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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You’d drifted, for a while, in a greyish abyss for a while, knowing that there was a choice to make. 

The void, though being of course, a void of nothingness, was peaceful, and gave you time to come to terms with what had happened, and come to the solution to the question. 

And as soon as that happened-

You were gone again. 

~~

“Philza!” 

The man froze over the brewing stand, the bottles in his hands beginning to tremble, “(y/n)?” 

“Dad!” You grinned as he turned around, looking dumbfounded, “I didn’t know you were coming here- when did you get in? Oh I can’t believe you finally came!” 

“D- Do you not remember?” His voice was low, shaking almost as much as his hands. 

“Course I remember- well I remember some stuff. Like you and Tommy and Techno and Home and- and Pogtopia- and Dream and George and Ni- Sapnap- oh- wait-” your voice dropped to a whisper, “You know how they were- y’know, my partners?”

Your father nodded. 

“Don’t tell Wil,” You said quickly, “He’ll get mad.” 

He nodded blankly again, still staring at you. 

“Well what's with you? Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

“Y- It’s just- your back. I- I was devastated- more than- when WIlbur- er- when you died. But n- but your back.” There was quiet relief in his voice. 

You nodded, “Course I’m back. Like you could get rid of me that easy.” 

Phil dropped the bottles onto the crafting bench, rushing forward in an attempt to embrace you. 

You shuddered as he passed through your spectral form, sadly mumbling, “Uh, yeah. I kinda pass through things now.” 

Phil smiled sadly, “Still, your back, come on, come on, lets go find Techno, he should still be around here.” 

You nodded, following him down that ladder, “That's what I wanted to ask, where is here? Why are you out in the arctic?” 

“Oh, uh, just to get away from everything, you know who Tech hates his governments.” Phil attempted a joke. 

“Oh, yeah- I wouldn’t want to be there with Shlatt either. Strange he didn’t just go back to pogtopia though.” 

Technoblade looked up from where he was sharpening his axe, at first his face reading confused, then guilty, the carefully blank, “Things have changed (y/n). People, change.”

“Like Wil? I rember Wil being mad about something- do you think- no it wouldn’t be that, I was careful.” 

Techno winced, glancing Phil’s direction, “Uhh, we- we don’t talk to Wilbur any more. Not- not since he- er- not since you died.” 

“That man is no son of mine.” Phil spat.

You looked at him confused, “What happened? Did you get in a fight?”

“It’s- not our place to tell you.” Techno said finally. 

“hmmm, okay! So what have you guys been up too?” 

~~

You hummed a tune, drifting down the prime path, headed towards L’manburg, toward home

Phil and Techno had warned you that things had changed since your death, but that didn’t deter you from going back.

Coming over the hill, you looked over your beautiful country, the walls, which you knew were gone, seemed to be partially rebuilt, and distantly you could see Fundy over seeing construction.

At first glance everything seemed fine, but as you got closer the atmosphere seemed to change, a sort of anxiety hanging in the air over the city. 

Slowly you floated up to the platform your nephew was standing on, “Fundy! You’re rebuilding the walls!”

The fox jumped, “(y/n)?” 

“When Techno said things had changed I didn’t think he meant Shlatt was putting the walls back!” 

“(y/n)- your- your back?” 

“Course I’m back,” You chuckled, “You miss me fur ball?” 

“I- you- your back?” He repeated.

“Yeah, what’s going on round here? Why’d Shlatt have a change of heart- wait- did we win? Did I die and miss us winning? Is Wilbur putting the walls back-” 

“Wilbur isn’t here any more.” Fundy interrupted bitterly. 

Your brow furrowed, “Why is everyone mad at him?” 

“Come on, lets get you too Ranboo, Tommy and Tubbo, they’ll-” He sighed motioning for Jack Manifold to take his place, “Well they should tell you at least part of it.” 

He led you down off the platform, toward the podium that still stood in the center of L’manburg, at your look of confusion explaining, “Ranboo’s a new comer. Uh- he’s- different, half enderman, we think, eye contact isn’t his thing, so be aware of that.” 

You nodded as he pushed open the door, “Hey- guy’s drop what your doing, this is important-” there was a small thud, “No not literally Ranboo- it’s a figure of speech.” 

You drifted past him into the room, smiling at the flustered looking enderboy, your brother, and his best friend, “Hello!” 

Tommy’s breath hitched, his lip beginning to tremble, “(y/n/n)?” 

“Hi Tommy! Hi Tubbo! Hi person I’m assuming is Ranboo!” 

The tall boy waved awkwardly, “Hi?” 

Fundy cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh, I have t’get back to work. They’re- confused. I-” He gave Tubbo a ‘this is your problem now’ look before quickly turning and leaving. 

“Uhh... (y/n). You’re- back?” Tubbo laughed as if he couldn’t believe it. 

Tommy was still staring at you in shock, “(y/n)?” 

You drifted across the floor to be near him, “Tommy what’s wrong?” 

Your brother burst into angry tears, “I thought you were gone! I thought that he took you away from me! He- he fucking thought- that bitch thought he could take away my sibling! Just- just because of some- of some fucking-” He fell off into hiccups, tears still falling down his face.

“That bastard! He- he fucking killed- he- and for what? Cuase he didn’t fucking like who you were seeing?” Tommy muttered, moving back past Ranboo to sink into a chair.

“Who? Who didn’t like it?” You asked. 

Tommy let out a bitter laugh as Tubbo looked at you sadly, “It’s- nothing.”

“Hmmm, well, what’s going on here then? Did we win the war?” 

Tubbo nodded, “Wilbur- isn’t here anymore, he- he- sort of betrayed us, and we chased him out. So we’re rebuilding the walls, so he doesn’t do anything else, and me and Tommy are co presidents.” 

You nodded, but were still confused, “What did Wil do? Is it why Phil said he wasn’t his son any more?”

Ranboo gulped awkwardly, “Uh- from what- er I- uh heard, yes.” 

“hmmmm, I hope it wasn’t anything too bad.” You sighed. 

You stayed with them for another hour, talking about L’manburg, and the presidency, until Niki arrived, breathless, having heard you were back, “(y/n/)!” 

“Niki!” You looked over her, something seemed off, less bright, less Niki.

She glanced around the room, “How about we go for a walk, to catch up?” 

There was something desperate in her voice, and you weren’t stupid enough to ignore it, “Of course.” 

She gave you a strained smile, motioning to the door, “Let’s go then.” 

Soon you were out wandering through the city, many of the crowds were gone, though you could see signs of life in open windows, and small restaurants, “Niki what’s going on here? Something isn’t right.” 

“Nothing is right, not since we got rid of Wilbur.”

You looked up at the walls, now seeming to loom twice as tall as they once did, “Tommy and Tubbo- they’re anxious about something.” 

Niki nodded, “The whole country holds its breath. Tommy is angry, and Tubbo is paranoid. They think Wilbur will blow up the country, and that he’ll have help, the walls, the security checkpoints- none of this is what L’manburg was founded for.

“The people are terrified, everyone tells them something different, they’re waiting for the country to be driven into the ground.” 

You gulped (can ghosts gulp?), “Well that isn’t good. Maybe- Maybe- hmmmm, Maybe you should be in charge Niki! You- don’t tell the others- but I think you’d make a better president than any of them!” 

“If I could I would (y/n), but it’s not that simple,” She smiled sadly, looking around with a sigh, “Why don’t you go find your boyfriends? Have you gone to see them yet?” 

~~ “Georgie!” 

The King blinked, quickly pushing back the small sense of hope, he was just imagine things again, he thought to himself, he had to be. 

“George what’s wrong?” 

The voice was closer now, and it was the cold sensation at touched his shoulder that convinced him it was real enough to look, blinking in surprise again at your gray form, hovering next to his desk, “(y/n/n)! Oh my god! (y/n/n)!” 

You grinned, “George!” 

“Your back!” The goggles were quickly pushed off his face, dropped down onto the top of the desk, “Y- your really back!” 

You nodded eagerly, “I missed you! Well- I mean, it wasn’t that long that I was gone. At least I don’t think- anyway I missed you!” 

“I- (y/n) it’s- it’s been nearly a month.” 

You cocked your head, “Huh, that's weird.”

“George who are you talking...” Nick trailed off as he entered the study, “(y/n)?” 

You could see the tears in his eyes as you awkwardly waved, “Hi Nicky.” 

“Holy shit.” He muttered, “I- we thought you were gone- I mean- when- when Wilbur...” 

“When Wilbur what?” You asked with a chuckle, “Everyone keeps saying he’s done something, but no one’s told me what.” 

Both men froze, sharing a looking, “Don’t worry about it.” 

Nick quickly swiped away tears, “So your back?”

You nodded, “I’m back- hey, have you guys noticed how L’manburg’s being all weird now? Niki says Tommy and Tubbo are running the country into the ground.”

“Well- they’ve refused all foreign aid, we tried to offer them help- after the war, paying for damages and such after they sorted out there Wilbur problem,” George sighed, “And so far only Eret’s tried reaching out to talk to us, help with our Dream problem.” 

“Yeah, where is Dream? I miss him and I can’t ping him, cause ghosts don’t have com tablets.” 

“Even if yours hadn’t broken it wouldn’t help. He disappeared after Wilbur- did that thing,” Nick sounded all to broken for your liking, “He hasn’t answered any of our messages.” 

You frowned, “Well that's not like him. Maybe he just left his tablet somewhere- or maybe he just got busy doing something again, you know how he gets during manhunts.” 

“(y/n),” George tried gently, “He- smashed his com tablet, said something about going off the grid, undermining the server. He probably isn’t coming back.” 

You froze, hover in silence for a moment, “No. No that’s not true- he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t leave us! You’re lying to me! He loves us! He’d never leave! It’s not true! He wouldn’t do that! Your lying!”

Nick seemed shocked at the outburst, “(y/n)- we were just as upset but he left- gone insane-” 

“STOP LYING TO ME!” You exploded, “He wouldn’t do that! I know he wouldn’t! Your just lying!” 

They watched you sink to the floor, spectral tears flowing down your cheeks, mumbling, “You’re lying, you’ve gotta be lying, he- he wouldn’t he wouldn’t do that.” 

~~

“Wilbur!” 

Your brother flinched, he’d planned for this, he reminded himself, as soon as he heard the rumor's. 

“(y/n).” He stood up, turning to face you, ignoring how he’d begun to shake. 

He didn’t regret what he’d done. 

At least that was what he told himself. 

He knew what he had had to do, and he done it, and he had no regrets for his actions, because it was all in the plan.

“Wilbur what’re you doing outside L’manburg? I thought they said they chased you out.” 

“I missed it.” He said simply, forcing back the choked noise that had started in his throat upon seeing your grey floating form. 

“Did you miss me? George and Nick said I was gone for almost a month, that that was how long you and Dream were gone for.” 

“Don’t fucking talk about that man.” Wilbur spat. 

At your face of shock and horror at what you said Wilbur grinned, “Oh yeah, I know all about them (y/n). Them, and You, and everything before your death.” 

“Why do you hate them so much?! Can’t you see that they make me happy?! What did they ever do to you?!” 

“THEY TOOK AWAY MY SIBLING! MADE YOU TURN AGAINST ME! AGAINST L’MANBURG!” Wilbur yelled. 

Tears started to slip from your eyes again, “Wil, I never turned against you- your my brother, I love you. Why is it so hard for you to see I’d never turn on you? Who I love has nothing to do with it.” 

“Oh it has everything to do with it!” He laughed, finally managing to shut off the tiny part of his brain that screamed at him to stop, “You’re fucking dead because of it!” 

You blinked, “N- no! It’s not because of them! I died in the war! Dream was trying to protect me! I died so we could be free again!” 

“No (y/n)! You are so fucking stupid! Your dead because I killed you! I killed you because you were turning against me! Because it was the only way to get those fuckers to get there hands off you!” 

You let out a choked sob.

“And guess what? I don’t regret anything. I killed you so that they would suffer! Suffer from loosing you the way I had! And it worked and so none of the cost matters!” 

“No wonder everyone’s mad at you,” You sad shakily, “You’re a monster Wil.” 

“And I’m not the only one.” 

He sounded almost proud, gesturing his chin upward, at a patchwork of scaffolding as being stretched across the sky above L’manburg, distantly you could see someone in a neon green sweater running across the top. 

~~ “Dream, what are you doing?” 

The man only sighed at the serious voice, “Getting revenge. It’s what they would have wanted.” 

“Is it?” 

He finally turned away from the contraption, staring through the slits in his mask at the Spector that hovered in front of him, “So you really are back.” 

“Dream,” You could almost see the wall he had put up when you died, repeating, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to destroy L’manburg.” His voice was cold, steely, too close to that which you remembered from the day he and Tommy had their duel. 

“You think that’s going to make things right? You think that’s going to put me- my spirit to rest?” 

He faltered, “It has too. Wilbur killed you, and now he’s going to pay.” 

Slowly you moved closer to him, across the narrow walk way, “Clay why did you leave them? When did you break your com tablet? You knew they needed you.” 

“I- I had too.” The smile on his mask was all to haunting, a broken reminder of the past. 

“They needed you and you left them. You put them aside, for this? To be a villain?” 

“If I’m a villain then so be it.” 

Down below the people of L’manburg were beginning to raise alarms as you spoke, “They love you. I love you. You don’t- you don’t need to be the villain my love.” 

Slowly he reached up, slipping the mask off his face, “I know, I know but- but this is the only way.” 

Gingerly you reached out, hovering your hand right where it would rest to cup his cheek, “It isn’t the only way. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to cause this destruction.” 

“It’s the only thing I know how to do,” There was anguish seeping in to his voice, “I don’t know if I can do anything else.” 

You longed to embrace him as he fell to his knees, “You don’t have to do this Clay.”

“I don’t know how! I don’t know any other way to make Wilbur pay!” 

“Clay look at me, look at me, there is another way- you don’t have to do this, We love you- we miss you- Nick, George and Me, we can just, climb down and go and find them and then run away together, leave this all behind!” 

“Keep them safe.” He sniffed, wiping away angry tears. 

“Yeah- yeah- we can build a little cottage, and plant flowers in the window boxes- and forget all about this,” You were phasing back into the material world, nearly by Dream’s sheer willpower as he pulled you into his arms, “And we can forget all about this, but only if you don’t do this.”

“I don’t know if I can... (y/n) I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” He sobbed. 

“You are darling. You are. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this Clay, we love you.” 

He sniffed, sitting up a little, one of his arms reaching away, both of your breathing unsteady as you looked up at him, desperation in your eyes...

And then the tnt hit the ground. 

The world exploded into fire, ripping away his words: 

“I love you too.” 

[dropssofjupitter]

The American

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader [Platonic] , George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader [Semi-slowburn]

Summary: A new transfer student is welcomed to Hogwarts during the politically tense times that have befallen the wizarding kingdom. And despite their better judgement and the new (and frankly horrifying) DADA teacher, the twins can’t seem to get her out of their mind

Word Count: 2.5 k 

Warnings: Umbridge (I feel like that’s enough said for that one), anxiety mentions, swearing (light. maybe one f-bomb), Ron being a lil prejudiced against Slytherins

Next >>

A/N: I took a small liberty with the last name just to help the story flow better, so I’m sorry if that’s upsetting. I am also apologizing ahead of time if I wrote the twins ooc, it’s my first time writing a fic for them! [Not beta read, any mistakes are mine and mine alone]

You took a breath, hands smoothing down the sides of your skirt, twisting nervously in the folds. You could do this. Nerves ran throughout your body, making it feel like it was humming with energy as you shifted on your feet. You could do this. The professor next you, McGonagall if you remembered correctly, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You forced a small smile, turning your face back to the set of great wooden doors in front of you. You could barely hear a thing that was being said, you just knew that you would be introduced after the new teacher and then sorted into your house.

“In other news,” a voice raised from behind the doors and you looked up sharply. “We have a transfer student joining us this term. We have decided that it would be best for everyone if her sorting ceremony were as public as the first years, so please. Join me in welcoming Y/N Jones.”

The hand left your shoulder and you looked up, taking in another nervous breath as you watched McGonagall place her hand on one of the doors, nodding to you to motion that it was time before pushing the doors open. You forced your face to remain neutral, and straightened your back as you walked alone up to the Headmaster in the front of the room.

The sound of your shoes hitting the stone floor caused your anxiety to rise again, but you pushed it down, forcing yourself to keep your head high and act like you knew you belonged here. You stopped in front of the stool placed at the top of the steps and turned, sitting down on it and effectively silencing the whispers that had been floating around the Great Hall.

The headmaster (god, what was his name again?) raised a dusty old witches hat and placed it on your head. The brim of the hat slipped over your eyes, and an older sounding voice resounded in your head, mulling over where to place you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred and George had fully expected this year’s welcoming feast to go like all of the others. Cheer when the first years were sorted (booing when it was into Slytherin, of course), boo again when the new DADA teacher was announced, and then gorge themselves as they planned the perfect way to sneak puking pastilles into Draco Malfoys food (it never worked). However, they were both pleasantly and utterly surprised when Dumbledore announced a new transfer student. Hogwarts had never really had a transfer student, at least while they were there.

Fred turned to George and elbowed him slightly, a half smirk on his face. “Maybe we’ll have another gullible second year to talk into insulting Snape, eh George?”

George grinned as he swallowed a quick swig of pumpkin juice. “Maybe so Freddie.”

However, as the doors to the Great Hall opened and you walked through, all thoughts of pranking left the boys’ heads. You carried yourself like you were the only one meant to be here, and like the others were new students embarking on your domain, and it drew the boys’ full attention. They only remembered to pick up their jaws when you sat down on the stool to be sorted.

Ron, who had noticed their strange reaction, tried to get their attention through a poorly hushed whisper, but to no avail. The twins were too focused on what house you were going to be sorted into.

It felt almost foolish to hope that you would be a Gryffindor, but hope they did. They waited with baited breath as the Sorting Hat took its sweet, sweet time. After what felt like an eternity, the hat had finally reached it’s verdict.

“Slytherin!” The voice rang out through the Great Hall, and the Slytherins cheered as their flag was momentarily displayed on the walls of the Hall. The twins felt their heart sink as they kept their eyes on your form, watching you as you walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down in between the first years and older house members.

“Oi! Fred! George!” Ron exclaimed, exasperated as he gave up on catching his brothers attention. “Bloody hell! It’s like I don’t even exist!”

Next to him, Hermione giggled knowingly, shaking her head at Ron.

“Oh? Have you got something to say now?” Ron asked, turning his face towards Hermione.

She sighed and shook her head again. “You really are incredibly dense sometimes Ron.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had spent the remainder of the feast politely talking to your fellow house members, answering their questions and asking some of your own. It seemed that they were all either in awe due to your transfer, or in disbelief once they found out that you were American. Quite honestly, you couldn’t blame them. Yet your anxiety kept you from speaking about it, and instead had you hesitantly picking at the comfort food that had magically appeared on your plate once you had sat down. 

After the feast was done, you were escorted to your room and introduced to your roommates by a prefect whom had asked you multiple times (despite your constant assurances) if you needed a tour of the castle itself. You settled into your room quite easily, introducing yourself to the girls and exchanging pleasantries before unpacking your trunk and getting your belongings situated. One girl, Pansy you believed, seemed particularly kind to you, and you made a mental note to get to know her better. 

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep in your bed, wrapped in the comfortable blankets that had been provided and assuring yourself that tomorrow would yield only positives. 

~~~~~

The next day had indeed started out well. You woke up on time and were able to find your classes easily, and you were also praised by Professor Sprout for your extensive knowledge in Herbology. However, things took a small turn for the worst went you entered Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

The first thing you noticed was the teacher in the front of the room, watching with beady eyes as students casually found their way to desks and friends. Her monochrome outfit looked awful, having the likeness of a pattern you swore you saw on your grandmother’s couch once, and had given her a look that, quite plainly, reminded you of a toad. 

The second thing you noticed was the fact that the seats were filling up, and quickly. Scurrying towards the closest open seat, you ended up next to a girl with unruly hair and a red and yellow tie. She smiled kindly at you as you sat down, and you returned the action before returning your eyes to the front of the room. 

“Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations, more commonly known as O.W.L.S.” The teacher spoke, seeming to punctuate every word of her sentence with a pause as the blackboard behind her wrote what she had spoken.

“Study hard, and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be, severe.” She smiled, a tight lipped sort of smile that let everyone know she was faking it. With a wave of her wand the stacks of books behind her began to float down the aisles, distributing themselves amongst the students.

“Your previous instruction on this subject has been, disturbingly, uneven.” You looked down as a book placed itself on your desk, pulling a face as you saw the cover and began to flip through it. 

“But you’ll be pleased to know that from now on you’ll be following a carefully constructed, Ministry approved course of defensive magic.” The girl next you did the same, and raised her hand. 

“Yes?” the professor called on her. 

“There’s nothing in here about using defensive spells?” she said, the confusion evident in her voice and mirroring the confusion on everyone else’s faces. 

“Using spells?” The professor laughed, walking closer towards your table. “Well I can’t imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom!”

“We’re not gonna use magic?” a redhead boy piped up, turning the book over in his hands. 

“You’ll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way,” the professor replied, her annoyingly ‘girly’ voice already seeming to get on your nerves. 

“Well what use is that?” A brunette boy who looked shockingly similar to Harry Potter asked. “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be ‘risk free’.” 

“Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class!” The professor said, her nerves evidently already frazzled as she raised her voice. The brunette boy sat back in his seat (No seriously. He could make money as a Harry look-alike) , obviously on edge as the professor took a moment to turn around and address the class again. 

“It is the view of the ministry, that a theoretical knowledge would be sufficient to get you through your examinations which after all, is what school is all about.” 

“And how are theories supposed to prepare us for what’s out there?” the brunette boy asked again, sharing a look with his table partner who had spoken up earlier. 

“There is nothing out there dear,” the professor replied, and at this, you couldn’t hold back a scoff. The professor whipped her head in your direction, and a few classmates turned to look at you. 

You looked up and swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting the professors. “I mean, I could be wrong, but wasn’t there a basilisk within the school a few years ago? That kind of seems like something ‘out there’.” 

The professor stuttered, and a few eyes widened around the classroom. “Ex-cuse me?” she said, taking a step towards your desk. 

“I’m just saying that there are certain undeniable dangers. Especially around this school, it seems.” You paused, hands fiddling with your robes under the table in a nervous habit that you hadn’t quite seemed to kick just yet. 

“Lying, Miss Jones, will get you nowhere.” The professor fired back, a tight-lipped smile plastered on her face. 

“She’s not lying,” the brunette fired back. “There are present dangers out in the world. Like, oh, I don’t know. Lord Voldemort.” 

The entire class went silent at his comment, some turning to glare at him with barely disguised hatred and others suddenly finding their desks and books to be the most interesting thing in the room. 

The professor, after taking a moment to recover of course, changed directions in order to walk towards the brunettes desk. “Now that, is a lie.” She replied in a dangerously low tone. 

“Oh, so I suppose that Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord then?” he replied in an accusatory manner. Gasps rose up from the class, disgust now evident in most of your classmates faces. 

“Cedric Diggory’s death was an unfortunate accident-” 

“No it wasn’t! Voldemort killed him! I watched it -” 

“That is enough Mr. Potter!” The professor yelled, losing her composure suddenly. The dead quiet settled over the class again as she smoothed down her skirt. “Potter, Jones, please see me for detention after classes today.” She said simply, before turning around and starting the days lesson as if the entire exchange had never occurred. 

You sat at your desk, absolutely dumbfounded. You had had no intention of speaking up in class, much less saying something apparently so controversial that it warranted a detention. Yet here you were, in your now decidedly least favorite class with your most recently least favorite teacher. How did you manage to get yourself into these situations?

The brunette next to you looked over with a small look of sympathy whilst your fellow Slytherins shared a not so subtle haughty laugh in the corner of the room. You sunk low in your seat, making up your mind indefinitely that speaking in class was completely off the table now. 

Thankfully, the class passed without any further altercations, and you nearly sighed with relief when it ended. You gathered up your items, shoving the new (and frankly quite stupid) DADA book into your bag and turning to make a beeline for the door. 

The brunette who had offered her sympathy earlier in the class spoke before you could leave the desk though. “Thank you for speaking up. For Harry I mean. Not a lot of people would do that, especially now.” 

You looked up, slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

She returned your look. “Did you not hear?” 

“Hear about what?” The two of you had slowly made your way to Umbridge’s door, lest you incite her wrath twice in the same day. 

The brunette was about to answer when the redhead who had spoken earlier wrapped his arm over her shoulder in a protective matter. “Is this Slytherin bothering you Hermione?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you in what you assumed was his best glare (honestly it wasn’t very good). 

You furrowed your eyebrows and took a step back. “Excuse me?” 

“I said,” he stepped in front of Hermione and crossed his arms, “is this snake bothering you?”

“Oh honestly Ronald!” Hermione cried out from behind him, grabbing his arm and pushing him out of the classroom door. She threw an apologetic smile over her shoulder at you before turning back to Ron and smacking the back of his head. 

You stifled a laugh at the look on his face and shook your head as you headed the opposing way down the corridor, not entirely paying attention to your surroundings as you double checked your schedule for the third time that day. 

Moments later you were sprawled out on the corridor floor, having collided with two people who had apparently been running at breakneck speed. You groaned and picked yourself up to a sitting position, looking over at the other two boys currently thrown over one another. Great. More redheads. 

Despite your better judgement, you gently kicked one of them with your foot after picking yourself fully up off of the floor. “Hey, are you guys alright?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred and George were royally screwed. Fucked, if you will. 

They hadn’t planned to quite literally body slam you in the corridors whilst running away from Filch after setting off dung bombs in his office, it had just. . . happened. And quite unfortunately, at that. 

George rolled over and off of his brother as he felt your foot kick him, looking up at you with what he hoped to Merlin was a dashing smile as he suppressed whatever copious amounts of pain that he was feeling in that moment. “Barely, but I suppose we’ll manage. Right Freddie?” He asked, looking down at his brother who was still planted face first into the stone floor. 

“Speak for yourself oh brother dearest,” he sarcastically replied as he peeled himself from the stone. 

“Weasley’s!” Filch yelled from down the corridor, running full speed (or as well as he could) towards them, students wrinkling their noses in disgust and turning away as he passed them. 

“And that,” Fred said, offering George a hand up, “would be our cue to leave.” 

Both twins offered you crooked grins, George even going as far as saluting you, before they dashed off through the corridors, quite possibly traveling faster than they had when they’d ran into you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched them, thoroughly amused despite being tackled, and bent down to pick up the paper schedule that had fallen from your hands. As you reached down, you noticed a larger and much thicker parchment next to yours. You grabbed both and looked closer at the thicker parchment, watching with amazement as what seemed to be a map of the school faded away into nothing. 

You looked back up at the boys just in time to see them turn a corner and disappear from sight. It appeared as though you’d have to return their tricky map to them another time. 

Smiling at the thought of interacting with the chaotic individuals again, you headed off towards Divination. 

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[legolaslovely]

Stranger

A/N: Dirty dirty dirty dirty and I’m NOT sorry. I’m so proud of that last lineeeeee. Hope y’all enjoy. ALSO the beginning ish dialogue is basically from the show, so that’s not mine so you know copyright whatever anyway the rest is mine haha. You all know I’m rewriting this show one fic at a time.

Pairing: Mitchell x Reader

Word Count: 2,191

Warnings: mention of drinking, dirty dancing, smut, bathroom blowjob, language, filth but good filth

Summary: Mitchell tries to hold back from feeding on the stranger who’s pulled him into the bathroom.

Mitchell leaned on the bar next to George with a cold beer in his hand, proud of his work. Despite the terrible eighties hits, sweat, and desperation surrounding him, he was happy to be here for Annie and introduce her to a fellow ghost. From a distance, they seemed to be getting on well and he sipped from his beer and elbowed George with a grin.

George nodded ferociously. “Oh yeah, because it was such a success the last time you encouraged us to meet someone with the same condition.”

But Mitchell’s smile didn’t dim. “George, my friend, I do believe you are being checked out.”

George followed Mitchell’s gaze to see three women bouncing to the beat and looking him up and down. Well, him or Mitchell, he couldn’t quite tell in the dark light. They grinned at him and one even waved but George whipped around to the bar, turning his back to them. “I can’t. It’s not safe.” When Mitchell scoffed behind his beer bottle, George continued. “Well, what about you then? If you sleep with someone, you’ll wind up killing them.”

Mitchell’s face fell. “I can control myself.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

Mitchell turned back to the dance floor, letting his eyes fall to the women’s tall heels. “I’m just not in the mood.” He sipped his beer and sulked, knowing George was right but also knowing it didn’t have to be said out loud. He decided he needed another beer but before he could order one, George nudged him. “What now?” he hissed. When he turned, the malice flew from his voice. “Hi,” he said to the girl in front of him.

“Hey,” she said, not completely paying attention to Mitchell. She was searching the bar, leaning over it and Mitchell couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over her bent back and tight jeans.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.

She finally looked at him and seemed to like what she saw. She smirked. “No. But you can get me to dance.”

“Even better,” he said, putting his empty bottle on the bar and leading her to the dance floor with a hand sprawled low on her back. He turned back to George and mouthed “changed my mind” and sent him a shrug. He chuckled to himself at George’s defeated expression.

When they reached the middle of the crowded floor, she slung her arm around the back of his neck and he immediately followed suit, placing his hands over her hips. “So,” she said in his ear over the obnoxious synthesizer blasting through the speakers. “Do you actually like this music or did you get dragged out here tonight too?”

He chuckled and watched her eyes sparkle in the disco lights. He leaned down to her ear. “Definitely not a fan of the music. But I am a fan of my dance partner.” He didn’t lift his face, but kept his lips dangerously close to her shoulder that was left bare by her flowing shirt.

“Smooth,” she said, but he felt the breath of her laugh on his hair.

The song changed but their position didn’t and he decided to take a chance. He pulled her hips closer to him and adjusted his stance so his thigh pushed between hers just enough to be noticeable. Her fingers twisted in the curls on the back of his neck showing she welcomed his close touch.

Over her shoulder, he watched her hips sway and circle to the beat. When was the last time I had this view, he thought. She rolled a little extra against him and hummed when it pulled a low growl from his throat.

If you sleep with someone, you’ll wind up killing them.

George’s words shot through his mind like a bullet, leaving its damage. His grip on her tightened and his hips stuttered at the thought of hurting someone. Maybe he should stop this right now. Then her hand ran over his shoulder and down his chest and he decided against it. He’d be fine. She’d be fine. This was harmless dancing and he knew he couldn’t do anything dangerous with all these people around. After all these years he had learned some self-control.

But she tested him when she spun, resting her back (and her bottom) against his front. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of her body against his. I need more than harmless dancing, he thought and he wondered if he could handle it if she gave it to him. Again, he tested the waters by lifting the front of her shirt just enough to slip his thumbs underneath and rub circles into her bare skin. She answered by rolling her ass over his crotch and he knew he was harder than he’d like to be right now.

He nosed as her neck and hissed when she grabbed a fistful of his curls and rolled her hips again. Doubt and anxiety mixed with the desire and desperation deep in his veins and he bucked his hips forward for some friction, cursing himself right after. No, he thought. He put some space between their bodies but she leaned her head back on his shoulder.

“You okay? You seem a bit tense.” Her voice was full of mock concern.

He growled and yanked her hips back on him. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

He spun her in his arms and slammed his lips to hers, knitting them together in a hungry kiss. His tongue ripped the seam of her mouth open and ravaged the inside of her mouth but before he could finish, she was dragging him through the crowd. Without a second glance, she pulled him in the men’s bathroom, grabbed a wad of paper towels from the machine and pushed him into a stall. He was being held against the wall of the bathroom before he could fully wrap his mind around what was happening.

Her lips traveled down his neck and he groaned loudly when she bit him and soothed the burn with a scalding, sucking tongue. Distantly he wondered what she would have done if the roles were reversed and he bit her with more intent than simply leaving a hickey. Her hands rolled up his shirt and held the hem of it before his mouth. He bit it and watched her fall to her knees. A smirk shone behind the fabric when he saw she was kneeling on the paper towels.

He dropped the shirt to speak as she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. “So you won’t kneel on the bathroom floor but you’ll take a stranger’s pants off?”

She pulled his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and left his underwear just high enough to keep the tip of him pushed down. His hard shaft peeked through and she laughed. “Mitchell. I’m disappointed in you. And a little offended.”

He barely understood her words. His eyelids fluttered as her hot breath danced over his bare length. “Wha-what?”

Her tongue just grazed him. “We’re not strangers, Mitchell. I work at the hospital? I know you haven’t been looking at my face much tonight-”

“(Y/N).”

She hummed and ran a finger over his shaft, letting it spring free from his underwear.

“I’m- Christ, I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t help peering at her chest as she knelt before him. “I didn’t recognize you. You’re not-you don’t have, uh-I didn’t know you-”

“Had a body under the scrubs?” She laughed.

He slammed his head against the wall. “God, I feel like a twat.”

She stood up. “You’re very lucky I like you or I’d just leave you here like this.” She gave him one stroke and laughed when he bucked his hips into her hand.

“Gah-I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

“Whatever you do, it better be good,” she purred.

“It will be great,” he sputtered.

She raked her nails down his chest and lifted the hem of his shirt again. “I suggest you bite down on this because I intend to make you scream and we don’t want to get caught, do we?”

He opened his mouth and she took his bottom lip in hers before letting him bite down on the bottom of his shirt. He was glad to have it out of the way as he watched her kneel before him again. Her sharp, dark eyes stared into his as her tongue reached out to circle the head of him and she smiled around him when he let out a moan that was muffled by the fabric stuffed in his mouth.

She tortured him. She tongued his slit, licked up and down his length, kissed the soft, smooth head of him and sucked on his heavy balls but never took him fully in her gorgeous mouth. He could practically see her red lips stretched around him and only wished she’d give in. She kept him rock hard for what felt like hours and he started to feel his desperation making his eyes flash black. “Please, (Y/N). Christ, please.”

She tilted her head, letting her lips brush against his shaft as she spoke. “I’m sorry, what was that? I’m having trouble hearing you.” She flicked the tip of her tongue over his slit and he grunted, yanking the shirt from his mouth.

“Please, (Y/N). Please. Christ, I’m a complete arsehole and I don’t deserve it, but please. I’ll do a-anything.”

“That’s top notch begging sweetheart, but I still don’t know what you want,” she said, making him shiver by rolling his fat head over her pouted, dripping lips.

He gathered her hair, pulling her off of him. “I need your mouth. Please, I need your pretty little mouth around me, sucking on me. Please, (Y/N).”

“Replace that shirt and I’ll see what I can do.”

He obeyed before she even finished the sentence. She took him in her mouth until she nosed his stomach and sucked him hard as she slid back up. Mitchell almost yelled at the tight friction and bent over her head, feeling the fabric around his mouth soaked with saliva. He wasn’t sure how much of this he could take. But all he was feeling was pure lust, pure desire for her, not her blood. He could only think of her tight lips and her hot, open throat, his mind didn’t have the capacity to imagine biting her or drinking from her. It wasn’t what he wanted right now. He only wanted to paint the inside of her mouth.

“I want you to make me come,” he said through gritted teeth.

She released him, letting a line of spit keep her connected to his throbbing cock. “Who says I’m gonna let you?”

He let out a laugh. “I’ll get you back for this. I fucking swear, I will make you regreh- regret this.”

“Which part?” She swiped her tongue over him and he growled her name with an intensity that made his throat ache.

She only giggled and took him in her mouth again, but this time she bobbed her head up and down and sucked hard. She kissed and sucked on his head and used her hand to jerk him off, sliding and turning it with every stroke. He held onto the stall door with a vice like grip and fought with his fluttering eyelids. He wanted to watch her swallow everything he’d shoot down her throat.

A shudder he hadn’t felt in a long time worked its way up from the base of his spine and he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself from here on out. But he had to talk the risk. “I’m- shit. (Y/N), I will fucking kill you if you stop. I’m gonna- oh, fuck.”

She was right. He did scream. She took every bit of him and cleaned every bit of dribble off his cock and balls before standing, wiping her mouth, kissing his stunned face and leaving him in the stall alone.

He raced after her, still zipping his fly when he caught her by the bar. “Wait! (Y/N). What about- what about you?”

“Next time,” she said to him before ordering a drink. “Remember my name so you can find my number in the hospital directory.”

He huffed out a laugh. She was good. As she was about to walk away, he stopped her, placing a hand on her waist. All remnants of jest were gone from his features and he looked at her with a low brow and round eyes. “(Y/N), I truly am sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness but really, I’m sorry.” He kissed her.

“You’re an idiot but for some reason I like you. So you’re just gonna have to find a way to make it up to me.”

“I will. And I’ll start with buying you that drink.” He plopped some cash on the bar and ran his thumb over her waist. He watched a smile creep over her lips and suddenly felt very glad he didn’t kill her tonight.

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Intern // Daveed Diggs x Reader

Author’s Note: hEy it’s my first post and lemme just lay down the law: my name is Kat and on this acc, my friend Haylea and I basically are gonna write fanfic on here cause we’re obsessed as h e c k. we don’t really have a defined schedule but we’ll try to post once a week. have a nice day and I hope you enjoy the fic.

Plot: Lin-Manuel is the reader’s cousin and he decides to give her an internship at the Hamilton set in honor of her graduating college. Things aren’t looking so great until Mr.Daveed Diggs bumps into her life.

Word Count: 876 (kinda short oopsies)

Warnings: lil bit of language ;)

Your first day. Nothing could go wrong. WRONG. VERY VERY WRONG. ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING COULD GO WRONG AND IT WILL. You sighed and put your backpack on your shoulders as you walked out of the cafe and to the theater. In order to calm your nerves, this morning’s anxiety-reliever was a large caramel latte with a double espresso. 

Stepping into the theater alone gave you a burst of nerves. It was only a job. It was only Lin. You walked into the back room where the counter-lady led you, giving her a soft smile as a thank you, afraid that if you were to speak you’d end up shouting the lyrics to The Schuyler Sisters. You stumbled through the halls backstage, finally finding Lin’s dressing room, knocking on the door softly.

“Lin?” you peeked through the door a bit, pushing it open slowly,”It’s Y/N...” 

No response. You sighed and began to walk away. God, why did I even bother... I’d only get in the way... you thought to yourself. Suddenly arms wrapped around you, causing you to almost drop your drink.

You screamed loudly as you kicked your legs, the arms spinning you around to face them. Suddenly you saw Lin, laughing loudly as he held you. Your eyebrows furrowed and your face got red hot, blush covering your cheeks.

“L-Lin! What the fuck!” you yelled, hiding your face in your hands. 

“Hey, hey, it’s just me!” he laughed louder, doubling over to catch his breath. 

“God, you’re such a dick...” you muttered, the crimson on your cheeks turning back to a normal color.

“Nice to see you too.” he chuckled, turning to walk back through the hall, “follow me, I have some friends I’d like you to meet.

Just the word ‘meet’ made you sick to your stomach. You had always been bad with first impressions, so why should today be any different? 

He led you off to the green room, the walls (surprisingly not green) covered in playbills and fan art. There was a large kitchen on one of the walls, equipped with a sink, stove, oven, microwave, and refrigerator. It was almost better than the kitchen at your house... The opposite wall had about twenty or so lockers s that cast members could set their things inside without fear of robbery. 

However, the most amazing thing in that room happened to be the cast. Every single member who had been on stage was in that room. Your hands got a little clammy when their attention focused on you and Lin. You leaned against him a bit to steady yourself. 

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Y/N! She’s gonna be our new intern!” he announced, the cast gave you a warm, welcoming smile, your nerves seeming to disappear.

It was now almost an hour before the first show and you were running around backstage, it seeming almost impossible to take a break. You were getting coffee for Jasmine, finding King George III’s staff for Johnathan, all while trying to maintain a conversation with Oak. 

“Well hey, I gotta go get dressed. See you in a bit?” He smiled at you, stopping walking.

“Yeah, I’ll see you before you go onstage.” you smiled, secretly thankful that he was gone so that you could finish what you were working on. 

But of course, walking proved to be too difficult for you when you walked straight into the wall, Jazzy’s coffee spilling all over your chest. 

“Fucking hell...” you wheezed out, picking p the cup from the floor and running to the green room to remake her coffee. Luckily, when you were waiting fo the coffee to brew, you spotted Jonathan’s staff and ran to his room, knocking quickly on the door.

“Johnathan! I found your staff!” you closed your eyes and pushed the door open, shoving the staff through the crack. 

“Thanks so much!” Johnathan smiled, taking the staff before you hurried off to the green room. You got Jazzy’s fresh cup of coffee and ran to her room, knocking softly on the door. 

She opened it and smiled sweetly, setting the cup down and continuing to lace her corset. “Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver!” you just smiled and walked off to find out what to do with your ruined white blouse. 

Just then you bumped into a large figure, blush quickly covering your face.

“Oh-Oh my gosh I’m so sorry, I need to watch where I’m going...” you blurted out, looking up at the an. Suddenly your eyes met with Daveed’s, blush now spreading all over your neck.

“Hey, it’s alright.” he smiled,”I wasn’t looking eith- oh god, did I make you spill your coffee?”

"No, no, this was on my own stupidity.." you chuckled, looking down at your white blouse.

 "Well, I've got some extra shirts if you need one." he smiled, blush returning to your cheeks.

You two were in his room now and he’d handed you a purple and grey Oakland shirt. 

“Jeez, you’ve got a lot of these.. How many are there?” you asked, turning to the wall as you slipped off your shirt. You’d become pretty comfortable in your body, based on how many times Jazzy called you beautiful or adorable.

He turned to his mirror, finishing tying his hair up,”Hella.”

You just chuckled and slid the shirt on. “Nice.”

“Hey, um.. So the cast is all going out to dinner tonight, and I was wondering if you’d like to join us? Well, join me, rather.”

“I’d really like that...” you smiled, turning to him. 

Maybe this internship wouldn’t be so bad after all...