I Feel Like I Should Explain Why I Dislike This Look. To Me It Screams Middle Age Crisis (trying To Dress

mirrorball // [g.w.]

sequel to tolerate it

warnings: angst, fem!reader

summary: It’s been 2 weeks since George told you he has a date to the yule ball. As of now, it’s the night before and you are reflecting on your feelings for him and wondering if you can continue as his best friend.

word count: 1.5k

A/N: So, here it is! I am hoping to get this posted as soon as possible for those of you who wanted to see a part 2 to tolerate it. I had a really difficult time deciding on how I wanted to end this, and I really hope it pleases you guys (not sure I’m happy with the ending, but that is to be expected). Sorry in advance for any errors, as this is a one-woman show and I sometimes miss my own mistakes. :) Special thanks to @ajusquishy for being the first to ask about this addition to tolerate it!

*****

I want you to know I'm a mirrorball I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

The past 2 weeks had been the most difficult time of your life. George had been following Alicia around like a lost puppy, and even Fred was getting sick of it. Oddly enough, it seemed like George couldn’t get through one interaction with you without mentioning the girl’s name.

“Oh Y/N, we decided to match my tie to her dress!”

“Did you know she said I am the cutest quidditch player she has ever met?”

“I’m thinking about asking mum to knit her a sweater this Christmas!”

At first you could handle it. As his best friend of nearly 6 years, it was your job to handle it. Why didn’t that make any of this easier?

There wasn’t a change in George that you had neglected to notice. Hell, your heart dropped when he showed up with a new bruise after quidditch practice. You were the one who had told him to grow his hair out (and damn, was that a good piece of advice). George had even been with you when he chose his first pair of dress robes for merlin’s sake!

Molly Weasley saw you as her stand-in while the boys and Ginny were at Hogwarts. Of course, she didn’t know that George and Fred had grown in their pranking abilities thanks to your sugar-sweet exterior, but that didn’t change the role you played in the Weasley children’s life. You were the responsible friend who also just happened to lead a double life when it came to the twins.  It was thanks to you that they had received only 3 detentions this quarter, and it was their fault that you now had an affinity for “accidentally” leaving dung bombs in the outer pockets of Cormac McLaggen’s bag.

“Hey, Y/N... I haven’t seen you around much. You aren’t avoiding me, are ya?” George’s baritone voice broke you out of your thoughts. He settled his arms on the top of your head, and sighed deeply, letting his head drop. “Fred and I need your help figuring out what the best escape route from the dungeons is.”

“Go ask Lee, he can do some math too.” Yes, you were being harsh, but George’s presence was enough to shatter any semblance of self control you still had left.  “Now, if you excuse me, I have a study date with some ancient runes and Hermione.”

As you stalked out of the common room, George couldn’t bear to bring up how he hadn’t been able to come up with any solid pranks in exactly 14 days.

*****

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

Tonight was the night; your hair was curled to perfection, and the gown your mother had sent you was the color of holly. The heels you had strapped on were a matte black dusted with the occasional piece of red glitter. Despite the fact that George was not your date, you couldn’t help my let your thoughts drift to him as you got ready. Would he think you looked pretty? Would he think you looked as good as her?

Lee tapped you on the shoulder, and you steadied yourself before letting him gently grab your hand. “Don’t let that prat get you down. You look like a goddess, Y/N. Now, let’s go show Georgie what he is missing.” 

Lee was a great friend for doing this for you; he knew about your feelings (Fred apparently can’t keep his mouth shut), and immediately became set on helping you get back on your feet. He had become your greatest cheerleader as of late, and claimed that George doesn’t know it, but he definitely has feelings for you.

As you both walked into the great hall, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. There were snowflakes and all types of seasonal decor strung up across the room, and it was almost like the room had transformed into a winter dreamscape. Fred and George had beat you there, already sipping punch with Angelina and Alicia.

“You boys clean up nice.” The twins and Lee let out a chorus of ‘hey’s, clearly displeased with your mockery of their appearances.

“Oi, I was betting 5 galleons that Fred would show up in his trainers...” George’s voice was surprisingly meek, almost as if he was looking for your approval with his jabs towards his brother.

The boys immediately began discussing their plan to spike the punch bowl with firewhiskey, and Angelina and Alicia launched into a conversation about where they had purchased their gowns. You felt more than out of place at this point, and decided to relocate after notifying Lee that you’d be fine on your own for a bit. Almost immediately after, Angelina went to distract McGonagall while Fred and Lee snuck under the table of refreshments.

You went to talk with Hermione and the younger trio, and were drawn into a lesson in muggle dancing.

“No, Ron, that is not how you hit the woah.” (I’m sorry I felt so inclined to include this cuz the image makes me chuckle lol).

“Well, ‘Mione, why don’t you and Y/N show us how this is done then?” Harry and Ron crossed their arms, and Hermione slipped her arm around your shoulders.

“C’mon, Y/N. You look like you could use something fun.” She dragged you onto the dance floor, and you both began dramatically spinning each other to the sound of your wheezing laughter.

If only you had noticed a certain red-headed prankster gazing at you like you had hung the stars in the sky...

*****

You are not like the regulars The masquerade revelers Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

Fred and Angelina had taken to the floor as soon as the waltzing began. After watching them twirl to the crescendos of the music, you finally decided enough was enough. All it too was a look at Lee, and he understood what you needed to do. You slipped out of the doors to the great hall, and found yourself wandering amongst the carriages powdered with snow, occasionally stopping to draw shapes into the piles of flakes.

Following five-ish minutes of mucking about, you finally decided to sit on the steps that bridged the courtyard and the hallways. Snowflakes continued floating, but you quickly realized the droplets of water on your face were from small tears and not the weather. Sniffles escaped your nose, and you crossed your arms in a poor attempt to keep warm despite your lack of sleeves.

Out of nowhere, you felt heavy cloth drop onto your bare shoulders.

“Be careful, love. Ya look like you’re halfway to becoming an ice lolly.” George shuffled his long, lanky body onto the steps. You looked at him through your lashes, and he seemed almost squeamish.

“Don’t you have Alicia waiting for you inside? I’m sure she wouldn’t be thrilled to see you out here.”

“Bloody hell, Y/N, I think we have been pretty dense.” Confusion evident on your features, George let his larger hand cover yours. “I didn’t want to ask Alicia. I wanted to ask you.”

“What do you mean? You’ve been talking my ear off about how much you like her for weeks now...”

“I was trying to make you jealous.” Silence overtook the interaction.

“So you’re saying that we both have been blind to our feelings?” 

George let out a small chuckle, and pulled his hand away. To be quite honest, you felt like maybe you had been ignoring the signs: the subtle stares, the extended physical contact, the willingness to be there whenever and wherever you asked him to.

“I think we may want to start over and forget the last few weeks.”

“I think I would quite like that.” You stood up, and brushed the snow off your skirt before extending your hand towards George. “Well, George, the yule ball is in... now... would you like to be my date?”

“I would enjoy that a bunch, Y/N.” He took your hand, and pulled you into his chest. “May have a dance to start off the evening?”

“...There isn’t any music.” You chuckled, but George simply grinned at you before beginning to hum.

“Problem solved. So, may I have this dance?”

“You may.” You dropped your head into the nook of his shoulder, and George began to sway and spin you, leaving 2 pairs of footprints in the snow beneath your feet.

From just beyond your view, Fred, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia let out somewhat of a “oomph” and high-fived each other before turning to go back inside.

Shining just for you.

someone: remember when you had a harry potter phase in 7th grade? that's embarrassing

me: haha yeah totally embarrassing *closes 467 open wolfstar fanfic tabs*

universe, please be kind - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Summary: George and Y/N so badly want to start a family, so why is it so hard? Warnings: Discussion of trouble at conceiving, talk of pregnancy and periods, allusions to sexual content but no actual smut, swearing, a bit of angst. Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Summary bad as usual but this is for you, @txtdreamss​​ ! I hope this was up to standard as what you wanted! I’ve never written about this before nor have I ever read about it so I did my best!!! The title kind of sucks and has nothing to do with pregnancy, but when I did a final read through I realised I referenced the universe a lot so here she is.

——————

“Negative,” Y/N mumbles, throwing the pregnancy test in the bin. Y/N and George got married this time the year before, and they’ve recently come to the conclusion they’re ready to start a family. Y/N is finally comfortable and thriving in her job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes has gotten so popular in the past few years that it’s profitable enough for George and Fred to be able to hire more staff and have at home work days to produce new products.

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you’ve gotta be kitten me// [n.l.] prologue

summary: Neville decides to be a good friend, and finds himself volunteering to petsit Hermione’s cat while her and Ron go on their honeymoon. After Crookshanks manages to get into Neville’s greenhouse, he finds himself searching for a veterinarian to help the poor kitty with tummy problems. {Muggle!Reader}

warnings: sick kitty, mentions of animal hospital setting, fem!reader

word count: 700+

A/N: Okay so this definitely took way longer than I hoped it would. I live in Texas, so we have been roughing it the last week because of the storm. Hopefully ya’ll enjoy this intro to what I am hoping will be a 2-3 part series coming soon. I’m not sure when the next part will come, but I promise I will try my best to make it worth the wait. :)

“Neville, if you need anything at all just call us using the hotel number on the fridge or call Molly and she can help you figure out what to do. Oh, and the normal cat-sitter’s number is on the fridge if you have anything come up at work or-”

“Hermione, Crookshanks and I will be fine! I can tell he is willing to be a perfectly behaved chap for his favorite Uncle!” Crookshanks let out a less than enthusiastic meow at Neville’s assumption, clearly unhappy with whatever the man was implying.

Hermione let out a groan but was not able to say much more as Ron was pulling her towards the fireplace so they could floo to their honeymoon destination.

“ ’Mione, sweetheart, the cat will be fine with Neville. Now, let’s go before you start experiencing withdrawal over the damn thing!” Ron let out a forced smile, threw the powder into the fireplace, and pulled his bride forward. They disappeared in a cloud of smoke, causing Neville to let out a cough.

“Well, I guess it’s just me and you now, eh?” The cat blinked once, twice, then let out a hiss and strutted away. “Woah bud, don’t get too attached to me, now...”

*****

For the last 24 hours, Neville felt as if he had been walking on eggshells; If he sipped his tea too loudly, the cat would hiss. If he sneezed, two piercing yellowish eyes were trained on him. The only relief he had obtained came from his 8 hours spent at work which were now, to the brunette’s disappointment, coming to an end.

“Crookshanks? Ya still alive mate?” Neville dropped his keys into the tray next to his apartment door and slipped off his loafers.

When he rounded the corner, he felt his heart and lungs drop into his stomach. There lay Crookshanks, sprawled out on the carpet and seemingly having what one could only compare to as a total acid trip. The poor kitten’s eyes were big as saucers, drool was spilling onto the carpet, and his stubby little legs kept rubbing across the floor as if to recreate human touch.

“Bloody’ell, why’s it always gotta be me?” Neville slipped his loafers back on, and quietly managed to pull the cat carrier Hermione left behind from within his closet. “C’mere bud, I promise it’ll be a short ride-”

MREOW.

Long red scratches littered Neville’s left hand, and a surprisingly high whimper left his mouth. “So, I am guessin’ you aren’t taking it easy on me today?”

*****

After a long battle to convince Crookshanks to enter the cat carrier (during which Neville managed to use an entire bottle of catnip spray), Crookshanks was finally contained. Neville had decided against calling Hermione and instead called their usual cat-sitter to ask what vet to bring the loopy cat to.

“Well, I’ve never taken him to Hermione’s vet before, but I can text you the number. Her clinic is down the road from the Diggory’s house, so it shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“Thanks so much, Anna, I’ll be sure to call you if I need anything else!” 

The clearly unamused teen hung up, and Neville decided it was time to move the carrier into the car. Neville, having never owned a cat, had no idea how to put the carrier into the vehicle safely; As a result, the carrier had been heavily covered in 2 seatbelts that were all but knotted around it.

Throughout the whole drive, Crookshanks meowed nonstop. The cat clearly wasn’t a fan of cars (of course, it may have just been that the car belonged to Neville). When he finally pulled up to the vet, he was surprised at how a place he usually thought of as a location for goodbyes looked so peaceful. An elderly woman holding a small chihuahua sat next to the glass door, and a box of treats labeled “take 1 :)” sat on a small stool nearby. As he stepped through the door with the cat in tow, a woman in scrubs behind the counter turned to greet him.

“Hi sir, how may I help you today?”

Neville’s heart leapt into his chest, and he stammered complete nonsense before settling on the words “the cat ate one of my houseplants”.

“Okay sir, fill out these forms and I will bring you into the exam room shortly.” A warm smile was the cause of Neville’s immediate destruction, as he went red in the face and nodded dumbly.

How in Merlin’s name am I gonna get through this?

and now your honey jars are frozen | f.w.

In which Fred Weasley is left seeing you in every little detail, every little object. // MASTERLIST. Prompts: Based off the song ‘Honey Jars’ by Bryan John Appleby. Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Angst/general sadness, sickness and death, food/drinks/meals, mentions of parenthood and pregnancy. Flashbacks in italics. A/N: My face when my fic formats and headers aren’t consistent: 😃✋. Anyway, I really like this formatting! Hopefully, you guys like it, too! I’ve been messing around with my header stylings and I like this one! Also, Fred is an elderly man in this! It just fit better when I was trying to think of a plot (and that’s how the song I based it off plays out)! I apologize in advance, feel free to put tissues on my bill! Enjoy!

Fred woke up on a Thursday morning. It was warm. He had always loved warm Thursday mornings. When the sun streamed in at just the right angle, the birds chirped at just the right volume, when the spring outside his bedroom window rippled in just the right way. He would nuzzle further into the blankets, further into your embrace. Over the years, over the decades when his bones began to ache and his neck began to tingle with the littlest of movements, he settled for holding your hand. That way, you two were still close. Not even old age and grey hairs would stop the love you held for each other.

Until one day, it did.

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— fred weasley

* smut — ♡ faves

dating fred and being a ravenclaw ♡ (blurb) @darthwheezely

pride and prejudice (series) ♡ @vivianweasley

stolen sweaters ♡ @anchoeritic

home for the summer pt 2 @vogueweasley

bets off ♡ @plant-flwrs

house unity @plant-flwrs

roller skates ♡ @plant-flwrs

smiling kisses @plant-flwrs

helpless @cedricsbrowncurls

only in fairy tales @cedricsbrowncurls

not like the movies @potter-imagines

shortie @lupinlongbottom

all the fear and fire of the end of the world @gryffindore

the bookshop @plant-flwrs

my jumper @wzrd-wheezes

summer of realization @ann-mariee

i’d always pamper you @feetoffthetablee

a worn winnie the pooh and a very cuddly fred ♡ @whizboingies

not an open book @valwritesx

victory @oh-for-merlins-sake

pretty gryffindor i didn’t know @kalimagik

in love with my best friend pt 2 @vivianweasley

let her go @vivianweasley

christmas puns ♡ @heloisedaphnebrightmore

blessed be the mystery of love ♡ @mitsukui

sweet vanilla kisses @pansydaisy

yuletide ♡ @weasleyh0e

opposites attract @parseltongueswriting

okay guys, I am currently writing something involving animals/a veterinarian reader, and the title I decided on has the purrfect cat pun. I can’t reveal too much but ugh I just laughed for like 5 minutes

Stranger Things Social Media Profiles:

→ El Hopper and Max Mayfield

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAUfem! Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of usual CM case-related violence, mentions of Haley’s death, insecurity, and cursing

Well, this is new, innit? (And, yes, I am referencing The Beatles with the title). I wasn’t sure if my usual tags would be interested in this, but I’ve included it just in case - I’m sorry if I tagged you and you’re not interested in this! Hope you like it! xx 

Profilers are strange creatures. A bizarre breed of human, truly. Not bad, per se, just…odd. Charmingly odd, in most cases, as you’d discovered upon joining the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. The team were a fascinating and brilliant bunch, but also unerringly loyal and empathetic (highly desirable and important qualities in your line of work). However, being able to read people also equips profilers with the infuriating ability to make themselves impossible to read. They know all the tricks of the trade to hide their tells and never give away anything. And now, nearly a year into working with the BAU, you’ve managed to crack nearly everyone…except your boss, Aaron Hotchner. The most intimidating man in the world. And why do you consider him the most intimidating man in the world? Because you’re not at all sure where you stand with your boss…ever. At any time. You have absolutely no idea how he feels about you or perceives you. Which is unsurprising considering the mixed messages you get from Hotch. 

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