One For Sorrow, Two For Joy

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: For the last three years, you’ve been working a repetitive Ministry job and wrapped your life around an unhappy relationship. After realizing how empty your life has become, you leave everything behind and stumbles across an unlikely job for you - Office Manager for Weaselys' Wizard Wheezes. There you wish to find something you lost in the war: hope.

Word Count (So Far): 79,939

Warnings: 18+, Dark Themes in later parts, Slowburn, Lots of Fluff, Eventual Smut. Minors DNI.

“I knew from the beginning that the two of you were more than a couple troublemakers."

His face morphed into a wicked smirk. "More than a couple of troublemakers, eh? You know, if you were in love with me, you could just say so."

Links in PURPLE are bonus content based on the parts they’re next to.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five The First Time You Met George, Colin’s Photographs #1, Colin’s Photographs #2

Part Six Hearing The News

Part Seven The Plan

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve The Food Run

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen Colin’s Photographs #2 (George’s Perspective), Seeing You Again

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen The Yule Ball, Puking Pastilles

Part Seventeen Ravenclaw Tower, Preparing For A Fight, Retrieval

Eighteen

Nineteen

Epilogue

Looking for more George content? pearlsofme has some incredible stories!

[1.6k] sick of their lovesick friend crushing on you, remus and sirius take it upon themselves to give james the boost he needs to talk to you. it doesn’t quite work out the way they planned.

. 

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

Or, to accurately rephrase that, it wasn’t meant to be this fucking intense. 

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were nothing but good friends. They were there when you needed someone to listen, they were there to offer advice, they were there to make you laugh when all you really needed was a distraction. 

They were good friends. 

But even this was pushing their limits. 

It was no surprise to anyone at Hogwarts that James Potter fell hard and fast. It may not happen often as people like to make it out to be, but the second that boy sets his eyes on someone, he’s a goner. And there’s no one better than his friends to know that. 

They had seen it with crushes over the last few years, but none of them hit the boy as hard as you did. 

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my hot wife || George Weasley

Title: my hot wife Pairing: george x fem!reader, background fred x angelina Summary: George is the drunkest he’s been in a long time and finds the hottest woman he’s ever seen at the bar. Too bad she’s already married. And too bad he’s too drunk to remember that she’s married to him. A/N: just a cute little fluffy piece about george being too drunk to remember that the hot chick at the bar is his wife! This is a popular trope? Prompt? Whatever you wanna call it but george seems like a messy drunk and i thought this was a cute idea! Tags:  @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27​ @hufflrpuffforfred @wand3ringr0s3 @loveboyhalo​ @theweasleysredhair @dracoswhore007 @amourtentiaa​ @lexymoniqu @p0tat0nug @levylovegood @spacexcowgirl @mischiefisbeingmanaged @littleweaslette @inglourious-imagines​ @darthwheezely @rosaliepostsstuff @hufflepuff-babe​ @frecklesandfirecrackers  @prismarts @thisismysketchbook​ @barneswidow @freds-slut @lupinsclassroom @lumos-barnes​ @weelittleweasley @parseltongueswriting @izzyyy-1​ @gwhogwartslover  @rqmanoff @amarabln @omghufflepuff@jorduhnn @edithreads @hpslutt (If your name is crossed out I couldn’t tag you!)

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“Holy shit,” George slurs as he slams the shot glass back down on the bar, wincing from the burn of the tequila slithering down his throat. Even though his body is reacting to the alcohol his mind is too far gone to register it, already feeling floaty and serene from the other drinks he’s already consumed this evening. He lets his eyes wander around the bar as Fred orders them another round of shots, and his jaw drops as he spots the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Her head is tilted back in a laugh, and George would give anything to be able to hear what it sounds like as it falls from her mouth. And Godric her mouth. His eyes are drawn to the curve of her lips and he can’t help but think about what it would feel like to kiss her. This mystery woman is perfection personified, and George would give his entire life’s savings to bask in her glory for even one moment.

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Fred Weasley - Outgrown

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 2.9k Warning : Arguments. Fred being a dick. Prompts : “I’d ask but judging by the look on your eyes, I can already tell that you’ve closed our chapter.” Notes : I’m sorry it took forever for me to post it. It’s a rather challenging request, I have to admit. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Time is a thorny thing to understand. One minute she’d wish to freeze it, pack it in a box and keep it under her bed to visit every once in a while. The other time she wished it would pass faster than the beat of her heart, unable to stand and watch as the situation unpacks right before her eyes. But most of the time, she wished that she could go back and relive the moments where things felt perfectly in place.

She’s spent every ticking of the clock each night to figure out when things started to crumble. When was the last time his hands felt perfect in hers? When was the last time his words sent blissful jolts to her spine? When was the last time his smile and laughter fueled her heart with delight? But those questions slowly turn into what. What happened? What made them strain this way? What did she do? What did he do?

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i ain't gotta tell him (i think he knows)

pairing: spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 1.4k

summary: sometimes, you take things a little too literally. this can be both a blessing and a curse. in terms of your first meeting with spencer reid, you're not sure what to call it.

notes: based on the prompt "give me Spencer Reid telling reader, who is very literal about most things, its safer to kiss on the lips than to shake hands while introducing themselves at the Bureau for his first day and Spencer gets so surprised when he does kiss him." the reader is not gendered specifically in the actual piece, though (no pronouns or gendered anatomical language), so read as you please! this is also my first reader-insert so if you could give me some feedback, i'd appreciate it greatly :)

read on ao3

“And here’s your desk,” Agent Hotchner finishes, stopping at an unoccupied seat, the only unoccupied seat, within a quad. Two of the three taken spaces are void of their people at the moment, but at the seat across from yours, you can just see the top of a head, bent over in concentration, peeking out from over the divider between the two workspaces.

“Got it,” you nod, setting down your armload of things. “Thank you, sir.”

Hotchner dips his chin in acknowledgement, and although he doesn’t smile, his voice isn’t unkind when he tells you, “You’re welcome. I’m happy to have you here with us, and I think I speak for my whole team when I say that we’re looking forward to seeing what you bring to the table.”

“Speaking of the rest of the team,” you start hesitantly before he turns to leave. He pauses, raising an eyebrow as he waits for you to finish. “Will I get a chance to meet them before our first case? I’m hoping to at least introduce myself before we see any dead bodies, no matter how interesting a first meeting that would make.” You wince and watch Agent Hotchner’s face carefully. The joke had just slipped out—you tend to run your mouth when you’re nervous, but the unit chief doesn’t seem to be the kind of person to appreciate your impulsive wit. 

To your relief, you aren’t kicked out of the building. You allow yourself a brief, silent exhale of the breath you’d been holding—you had not wanted a repeat of The Incident of 2006. Instead, your boss looks at you for a moment, considering, before his gaze flicks away to something behind you. “I’m sure you’ll see them around soon enough. In the meantime, why don’t you and Agent Reid get acquainted?”

Ah. So not something—someone. Agent Hotchner had been referring to the owner of the head you had seen a few moments earlier. The person in question doesn’t seem to have noticed that his boss is looking at him expectantly. He’s still bent down over something that you can’t see, deep in his own world. 

The unit chief clears his throat. “Reid?” he says again pointedly. Finally, the other man manages to tear himself away from his work, gaze leaving the papers he’s been writing on a split second after his head.

“Yeah?” he answers absentmindedly, eyes finally making their way up to see who’d been calling him. He’s young, mid-twenties at most, and lean, not built like many of the men you’ve worked with in the past. Curly chestnut hair sweeps across his forehead, a couple of the unruly strands sticking out at the nape of his neck. You resolutely ignore the urge to finger-comb the fluffy-looking locks. That would be absolutely inappropriate and more than unprofessional.

His eyes, the color of earl gray tea that’s been steeped until it’s just on the darker side, are warm when they lock on yours. He looks down hurriedly, hands twisting in his lap seemingly unconsciously. “Oh, hello. I assume you’re the new recruit? I’m Reid. Doctor Reid.” He’s speaking fast, clearly stumbling a little bit. “Um. Well, you don’t have to call me doctor. Agent Reid is fine. Or—or just Reid! Spencer Reid. Yeah, that’s me.” He looks up at you again for a second, an anxious twist to his mouth, and you feel simultaneously endeared and empathetic. You’ve been in his position all too many times before, tripping over your own words in front of a new acquaintance. In fact, you’d done that just this morning when you’d come face-to-face with Agent Hotchner, nearly dropping your box of things as you stammered out a greeting. In your defense, the man was intimidating. That was probably why he made such a good FBI agent.

Anyway, that’s beside the point. You smile at him, trying to put him at ease as you introduce yourself, giving Agent (Doctor?) Reid your name and holding out a hand over the divider. He’s stood up as well over the course of your short conversation so that the two of you are about a foot and a half apart, and you notice that he has a couple inches on you. It isn’t surprising—he looks the long and lanky type. 

However, Dr. Spencer Reid decidedly does not take your proffered hand, instead looking down at it, held in between the two of you, like you’ve just offered him a whole stick of butter. Not disgusted, per se, but hesitant and doubtful, like he’s figuring out how to politely reject the metaphorical dairy product. You lick your lips, a nervous tic. You’ve never been great at meeting new people, and this doesn’t seem to be heading in the right direction. With your luck, you’ve just made a grievous error in the Unspoken Code of Social Interaction and now your new colleague will never want to speak to you again.

Agent Reid clears his throat uncomfortably, bringing you out of your despairing rumination. Your hand is still hovering uncertainly in the space between the two of you. “Actually, did you know that the number of pathogens passed through a mere handshake is astonishing?” Evidently, he’s a hand-talker—his long-fingered hands have been brought up together, gesturing vaguely as he speaks to you.

“Um,” you put in, but he plows on.

“It’s technically safer to kiss someone,” he finishes, glancing at you again to see your reaction.

Oh. You furrow your eyebrows. Well, it’s not a conventional greeting, but to each their own. Hopefully this will make up for whatever faux pas you’ve committed. Shrugging internally, you step forward and press your mouth to Dr. Reid’s, eyes falling half-lidded. 

His lips are slightly chapped and taste faintly of coffee. You keep your tongue firmly to yourself—after all, this is just a greeting—but after half a second you realize that his mouth is hanging open, not to receive the kiss, but agape with shock. 

What?

Wait a minute. A terrible realization dawns on you and you stumble backward, breaking the very much one-sided kiss. Agent Reid—Spencer—is staring at you, doe eyes wide and face abloom with a fiery blush. 

You lick your lips again, but this time, you can taste the fading memory of your colleague’s mouth. Your voice is faint when you manage to speak again, low and husky with embarrassment. “Um. It just occurred to me that I may have taken that a little too literally.”

A wolf whistle breaks the stunned silence that ensues, and you whip your head around, feeling your face heat up. 

“First day here and you’re already pulling moves on our resident genius. Who would’ve guessed?” A group of three other people have just arrived in the bullpen: a muscular Black man, a blonde woman, and a woman dressed sharply in a dark-blue blazer. Fuck, you think, but the man, the one who’d spoken, is grinning gleefully as his eyes dart between you and your new…acquaintance. The two women behind him wear expressions of shock, amusement and disbelief warring on their faces. 

The dark-haired one raises an eyebrow. “Is that what the young people are doing these days? And here I was thinking I was still hip and cool.”

“It’s—it’s not—,” you stammer, not daring to look at Spencer.

“Welcome aboard, agent,” the man says, striding across the room. He looks you up and down, assessing you, before sticking out a hand. “I’d prefer a handshake, if that’s alright with you. My name’s Derek Morgan.”

Trying to regain your composure, you take his hand and let him shake it once, twice, in a firm grip. Unable to resist, you shoot a glance back at Reid. The other man is still standing stock-still where you’d left him, but he’s touching his lips with the fingertips of his right hand like he’s trying to ground himself. There’s no disgust or anger in his face; on the contrary, there’s a look of dizzy surprise, and somehow, he seems almost…pleased. Uncertainly so, but unless you’re mistaken, there’s a glimmer of delight in those big brown eyes.

It’s not real, you tell yourself, trying to focus on introducing yourself to Agents Morgan, Prentiss, and Jareau. You’re imagining things. That was completely unacceptable and you must apologize as soon as possible. 

But you can’t suppress the warmth bubbling up within your ribcage when you think back to Dr. Reid’s face when you’d stepped away, flushed and dazed, the way his head had cocked ever so slightly like a confused puppy.

Maybe you hadn’t made a complete mess of your first meeting with Spencer Reid after all.

Oblivious Weasley - Fred Weasley

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 2.8k Warning : None. I think. Just fluff. Notes : This story was posted first on my Ao3 account. “Why are you daft, Fred?” Overthinking and assumptions silently creates the wall that separate the two lovers. As one starts to turn and knock on another door, could they finally meet in the middle before it was too late?

There was a storm brewing inside her heart. She has held this big fat infatuation for years, threatening to explode any second though her walls of pride are thicker that she hasn’t actually released it yet. But the fact that it is still very well hidden is driving her closer to the cliff of insanity. It doesn’t help either that the man in question is just at an arm’s length.

It’s like smelling the scent of freshly baked cookies you so craved to bite yet being unable to actually taste it.

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