How To Be A Writer

How to be a Writer

Step 1: Hate everything you ever write ever.

Step 2: Keep writing.

the worst thing about writing is that you aren’t just a writer. you have to be a thousand things. a poet, a flirt, a weapons expert, a bleeding heart, a scholar, a legendary cook, a theorist, an engineer, a reckless teenage girl, a dying god. you have to be able to write monologues and speeches and heartfelt confessions, and you have to make them believable. writing is putting yourself into someone else’s shoes.

writing is really hard (◕︿◕✿)

The Party

Pairing: Daniel Radcliffe x reader

Word Count: 676

The Request: Can l have a Daniel Radcliffe one where I'm secretly planning a surprise party for him, and he thinks I'm cheating on him but I'm not and we get into a huge fight about it and break up and then it's the day of the party and one of his friends says I planned it and we get back together? And in the end with fluff?

Warnings: N/A

A/N: For @anyfandomimaginex. I hope it’s alright! ^_^

You were in the middle of surfing the Internet for the ideal cake recipe for the party you wanted to throw for Daniel’s new role when the man himself entered the room, looking angry and sad all at once.

“Y/n,” he said, speaking clearly despite the emotions evident in his eyes. “It’s over,” he stated.

You were confused. “What’s over?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice level and steady.

“This. Us. We are over,” he said, and you immediately felt tears prickle the back of your eyes. 

“Wh-what?” you stuttered. “Why?” you asked incredulously. You loved him and he did too. He had never shown any indication to the opposite.

“Because you have been too distant from me lately. You’ve sometimes had to cancel on our dates to go out somewhere else, and you always hide your laptop and phone screen whenever I’m nearby. You speak into the phone with a hushed voice and spend a lot of time distracted on the Internet. You’re barely even here, and when you are it’s only physically. Your body might be here, but your mind is somewhere else,” he stated sadly, and it sounded like he firmly believed what he was saying.

“No, Dan, no!” you got up, walking up to him, trying to explain, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“It’s over. I’m breaking up with you,” he said. “Your attentions, your heart, they obviously belong to someone else.

“I’m not cheating on you! I never would do that,” you protested.

He looked disbelieving, disappointed, and you would have preferred a screaming match to this quiet anger that had him wiping his eyes furiously to brush away the oncoming tears. “It’s, um...” he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but then he thought better of it and just left, fists clenched at his sides and head hanging low.

You stood there, mouth agape and eyes staring vacantly at the doorway he had used to leave for a good three minutes before you found a chair and collapsed on it, burying your face in your hands and letting the tears flow.

The party had been scheduled for two days after that and, despite Daniel having broken up with you, you made sure that the party was still on.

You didn’t go. You couldn’t go, because you didn’t want to ruin it for Daniel. He was going to have fun with his friends and you would just be happy about him from afar.

You were getting ready to go to sleep and call it an early night when your doorbell rang. You opened the door, and there was Daniel, looking shy and apologetic and holding a bouquet of flowers that almost hid his face.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, and he walked inside, handing you the bouquet.

“I... I’m sorry. I was told what you were doing for me. I was told that the party was your idea and that you weren’t cheating on me, you were preparing a surprise for me. I’m really sorry for jumping to conclusions like that, I just.... I love you so much and I’m sorry,” he said and you placed the flowers down, smiling brightly at him.

“You mean it?” you asked.

“Yes,” he nodded. “The party was amazing, and there was such attention to detail. You worked hard organising everything and I was the worst moron ever,” he shut the door, walking closer to you and hugging you. “You are amazing, and I am sorry I ever doubted you. You’re the best girlfriend I could possibly have,” he said, pulling back slightly from the hug only to kiss your lips.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked eventually, between kisses.

“I do. Of course I do,” you said and put your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him back. You were glad he now understood that you loved him just as much as he loved you, and that you would never do anything to hurt him.

The Yule Ball

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word Count: 1,266

Summary: Can I have a Fred Weasley one where we always fight (not dating) but we only fight because we secretly like each other and when it's the Yule Ball there is this guy who is new and he is a player and he asks me and at the Ball he is really touchy and I don't want it and Fred sees it and fights him and in the end with a lot of fluff and confessing our love.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Request for @anyfandomimaginex I hope it’s what you wanted! ^_^

“You two! Could you please stop? You’re making too much noise and I’m trying to study over here. Some of us actually want to pass our exams with good grades,” you said in a whisper-shout, folding your arms on your chest and glaring at the offending red-headed boys who were standing in the library, looking up explosive spells and trying them out on small objects. Colourful smoke was drifting up from what had once been flowerpots and old quills and the table was dotted with ash of all colours. No other student was glaring at them because they were all very fond of the twin brothers but you, as a Prefect, felt the need to tell them off as the library was for studying and not experimenting around with strange spells.

One of the two brothers -Fred, you knew, because he was the only one of the two who ever fought with you- stepped forward and fixed you with a harsh glare. “Oh, it’s little miss Prefect again,” he said, rolling his eyes. He was about to say something else when George grabbed his forearm and gathered all their stuff. “Don’t bother, Fred. Let’s go continue at the Common Room,” he told his brother and hurried off. Fred cast one last look at you before following his brother outside. A part of you was disappointed at that, but you had never actually allowed yourself to admit that perhaps you didn’t really dislike him.

You sighed and decided to get back to studying but instead, you found yourself thinking about the Yule Ball the next week. You didn’t have a date for it, and you weren’t planning on getting one, though you and a couple of your girl friends from your house, who also didn’t have anyone to go with had decided to go for fun, not really expecting to be asked to dance with anybody. Still, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity and you weren’t going to miss it. That evening, after having mostly finished your homework for almost the whole week, you got up and headed to the Great Hall for dinner. On your way there though, a rather cute brown-haired boy wearing the blue Beauxbatons uniform stopped you. He looked rather confident in himself but his words, in perfectly good, if slightly accented English, were shy.

“Bonsoir, mademoiselle. You’re Y/n, right?” he asked you with a blinding grin on his face, though he was blushing a bit nervously. You nodded in response. “I’m Marc. I’m from Beauxbatons, as you can see. And I wanted to ask you... will you be my date for the Ball? I have seen you around, and I think you are very pretty and smart, and it would be my honour if you said yes,” he said. You found his slight French accent cute, and he was rather handsome as well.

Thinking yourself lucky, you smiled right back at him. “Of course, Marc! I’d love to,” you said and he beamed at you before bidding you a good night and hurrying off to dinner.

You spent the rest of the week talking with your friends about the Ball, laughing with them and smiling at Marc whenever you saw him walking around the corridors. All that kept you busy and, thankfully -or not, you weren’t sure- away from the Weasley brothers, and especially Fred.

The night of the Yule Ball you were excited. You felt particularly beautiful in your long blue dress and you were smiling as you descended the countless staircases and traversed the many corridors to reach the Great Hall, outside of which Marc was waiting, dressed in dark blue wizarding robes.

He offered his elbow at you and you hooked your arm through it, beaming up at him as you entered the Great Hall, which looked absolutely beautiful as it was adorned in winter decorations.

You didn’t have a lot of time to appreciate everything though, as you eventually felt a hand trailing up your arm, touching your shoulders. You turned around to see Marc there and you glared at him, shrugging his hand off. You thought that was a one-time-only thing but, eventually, you felt his hands on you again, this time touching your waist and stomach and arms, and you really didn’t like it. You made it obvious and you tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Hey, mate, don’t,” you heard a familiar voice say and both you and Marc turned to meet the glare of Fred Weasley. A glare, which, for once, wasn’t directed to you but instead to the French boy touching you. He looked quite intimidating but Marc didn’t move an inch.

“She’s my date,” he said with a shrug and you were about to retort that you were your own person and, given the opportunity to reach for your wand, you could hex him into the next century, but Fred spoke first.

“The fact that she’s your date doesn’t mean that you can do whatever you want to her! She’s a wonderful girl, intelligent and talented and amazing, and she’s not an object for you to touch against her will. So back off, before I make you,” he said, retrieving his wand from a pocket of his robes and pointing it squarely at the French boy’s chest. Marc seemed scared off and, when you elbowed him in the ribs, he hurried off, not looking back.

Fred immediately walked up to you and grabbed hold of your hands tenderly. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you or do anything bad to you?” he asked worriedly, his brown eyes locking with yours.

You found yourself unable to move away. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. And no. No, he didn’t hurt me,” you mumbled, though you were still feeling a bit uneasy. He noticed that and worriedly chewed on his lower lip.

“Would you mind if I hugged you?” he asked tentatively and you nodded your assent at that. Gently, he put his arms around you and hugged you close to him. “That idiot will never touch you again. If you see him again you should curse him, hex him, do something!” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded. “Yes, I will. He just caught me off guard this time and I didn’t know how to react,” you explained. “But... why do you care so much? I thought you disliked me,” you added.

He pulled away from the hug and stopped chewing nervously on his lip. “I, uh... Well, no, I don’t dislike you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I like you -too much- and when I saw that bloody bastard -pardon my language- touching you like that, I saw red. I couldn’t not do that, I hope you understand,” Fred said. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’m not expecting that, because I’m definitely not your type and-” You cut him off by grabbing hold of his shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. It was short and chaste, but it was enough to shut him up.

“What?” he asked rather stupidly, and you giggled.

“I like you too,” you said with a silly grin on your face before leaning closer to him again and capturing his lips with yours in a kiss that was, this time, long and made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

When you pulled away to breathe, he grinned a beautiful smile at you and grabbed your hand, entwining his fingers with yours.

“What do you say we end the night on a high note? Let’s have some fun!”

Epic Winchester catches.

and then there’s the one time it didn’t work…

If you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.

All the time….