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REBLOG IF YOU ARE A WRITER ON TUMBLR

IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT KIND OF WRITER YOU ARE YOU CAN BE WRITING: POEMS, FANFICS, IDK NORMAL FICS, NOVELS, SHORT STORIES, IDK ANYTHING!! JUST REBLOG!!!

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Guys I’m sorry I write so slow, I’m working on a little something for George right now but my average is about one paragraph a day 😂

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Fred Weasley dating a muggle-born

A/N: it's short and it's cheesy but so am I

• "No no no no!" you cried as you pulled the hot tray from the oven with mitt-clad hands.

Fred came to see what was going on and breathed in the smell of smoke. "Why do you torture yourself like this, love? You know there's an easier way. "

"Believe it or not, I actually enjoy cooking. "

Fred cocked a sarcastic eyebrow. "Evidently"

You laughed. "The oven and I don't always get along, but I love throwing ingredients together and knowing they're going to became something. Something I can share with people I love. There are recipes that have been passed down through my family and that is something so special to me,�� you bit your lip. "I know this probably sounds barmy to you-"

"It doesn't," Fred's smile glowed as he looked down at you. His heart felt light and warm on seeing you so passionate.

• "What is that?!" Fred asked as you entered your nephew’s birthday party hand in hand.

In the middle of the backyard was an impressive colourful bouncy castle. Most of the children in attendance were inside of it, having the time of the lives throwing their tiny bodies.

You glanced up at your boyfriend knowingly. His expression said it all; his face was lit up like a little kid seeing a new toy. "You've never seen a jumping castle?" He shook his head gently without looking away from the contraption. You suddenly felt a bit excited, which felt strange because if you were here without Fred you wouldn’t have paid much mind to the bouncy castle, let alone have any opinions about it other than it was giving the kids some good fun. With a quick squeeze of his hand you said “Race you?" and your fingers left each other’s in order to dart across the yard and fling off your shoes, discarding them amongst the throng of tiny ones.

Being with Fred made you appreciate the every day things of the muggle world you grew up in. It was like seeing and experiencing things for the first time again, but with new eyes. When you had learnt that there were wizards and even whole wizarding communities that forbade relationships you felt imense sadness. It was another form of magic to share the two worlds. To see Fred enjoying something as simple as a jumping castle was enough to make your whole day.

• It was a Sunday morning, the best day for sleeping in, but you knew without even opening your eyes that it was earlier than you would be awake on a weekday; there was no sunlight creeping through the curtains. The thing that had pulled you from sleep was the smoke alarm, which was blaring downstairs over the sound of Fred's voice. Slowly you made it down the stairs into the kitchen, where you found him flapping the tea towel frantically at the smoke alarm sensor and arguing with it.

"What happened?" you asked groggily.

Fred finally was able to cease the deafening sound and leaned back against the countertop, seemingly exhausted. He was still in his flannel pajamas and his morning hair stuck up from his tossing and turning on his pillow. “I let you talk me into getting that thing, that's what,” he pointed up at the device on the ceiling which had returned to passively blinking its red light. Fred threw the towel onto the bench sourly. "Why doesn't it know there's no fire, I'm just cooking!"

"Probably because it's never seen you cook," you quipped, trying to peek around his lanky frame. "What are you 'cooking’?”

Quickly he spun around and seized the frying pan with two hands, flicking it rather awkwardly. "Eh? Saw that on the television.” He looked quite impressed with himself.

You couldn't help but smile. "Hang on, I thought there was an easier way?"

"I'm not trying to impress you, if that's what you're thinking," he said before winking. Then he did his little half frown and looked up at the ceiling again. “It was supposed to be a surprise but apparently your friend here can't keep a secret."

"You can't blame it for thinking we might be in danger,” you wrapped your arms around his middle. "I feel very special, Freddie. Thank you."

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Oh my gosh, thank you for mentioning my work! 🙉

Hii I'm the anon asked for some comfort reading. Ok so some characters I would like are -harry (ofc hes the love of my life) -fred weasley (or georgie) I love them so much -Cedric Diggory because have you seen how beautiful that man is! Once again I’d LOVE some fluff and I wouldn’t say no to some smut lol

HELLO BEAUTIFUL HOOMAN! sorry i couldn't reply yesterday :( here are a couple fics i think u may enjoy, some are fluff and the others comforting💖 love u and i hope u are doing alright🥰 NOTE: most of them are focused on comfort but more like from injuries and so, still, they are BRILLIANT

Fred

Bubble bath by @efyra [dad!fred] if you are comfortable with fics with kids, this is one of my favoritessss🥺

Blessed be the mystery of love by @mitsukui this hooman is so talented i swear to the goddessesssss😭🥰

Being punished after you said his dick is small by @mitsukui [smut] i think you may laugh at this haha, i am so in love with this story😂

A letter from no one by @wand3ringr0s3

Falling by @wand3ringr0s3

So will i by @wand3ringr0s3

Lost Hope by @wand3ringr0s3

George

Let me take care of you by @george-fabian-weasley

Shower buddy by @george-fabian-weasley FLUFF

How he reacts when you are insecure during sex by @mitsukui [smut]

Flowers and flushed cheeks by @feetoffthetablee

Golden by @vogueweasley [this is on my to read list but it sounds beautiful]🥺

Comfort by @loony-loopy-lupinn

Your pain is my pain by @loony-loopy-lupinn [soulmate au!]

Cedric

Sharing x Fred W. by @efyra [SMUT] I will recommend this fic forever and ever bcuz it's my favorite

Never let you go by @cedricsbrowncurls [smut]

My star by @cedricsbrowncurls

As for Harry, most of the fics i like are here so :(((( sorry [i added more tho]

I'll add more to this list and reblog it later but i have my karate practice rn, ly🥰

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Okay so I’m watching clips and George was blinking slowly and his eyelashes are so pretty and I just got the urge to kiss his eyelids?? Like excuse me? I’m so weird???

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While Ginny was laying in the Chamber of Secrets, did her hand on the clock in the burrow point to ‘mortal peril’?

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Falling - Fred Weasley

(gif credit to owner)

Summary: George accidentally injures Fred’s significant other during a quidditch match

Trigger warning: falling from a height, injury, descriptions of pain

A/N: So this didn’t turn out the way I had planned. Fred was supposed to get properly angry at George, but when it came to writing that part I couldn’t think of any points he could make because he could’ve easily done the same thing? I thought about sending the idea to a better writer but wanted to have a go at it myself.

Fred couldn’t remember a time he was this angry at his brother. He was torn between the ache in his heart for seeing you in pain and rage toward George for being the one to cause it. 

The quidditch match had been off to a great start. You and Fred were on rivalling teams and were determined to thrash each other. Being on opposite teams made it all the more fun for the both of you as you were both very competitive, and it was even more serious as this game was the final match of the season. Which was also the reason George was playing more aggressively than usual. 

George knew that despite your dating his brother, during quidditch matches you were the enemy, so it was fair game to smack a couple of bludgers your way. But, unfortunately for you, he was a little over-excited. When one of your team’s beaters knocked a bludger his way, George’s first reflex was to whack it at you, as you happened to be hovering nearby - too nearby. George had underestimated the distance between the two of you and had hit hard and fast. The bludger hurtled towards you with a dangerous amount of force and collided with your kneecap. You cried out as the red-hot heat of pain spread through you. With one leg suddenly incapacitated, you lost your seating on your broom and tipped sideways off it towards the ground. 

The scene kept replaying in Fred’s head like a broken record as he hurried alongside your stretcher on the way to the hospital wing despite McGonagall’s repeated instructions to do otherwise. You had fallen before anyone in the crowd - teacher or student - could mutter a spell to prevent it. Your body hit the ground with an awful thump. 

Fred had put the game from his mind the moment he heard you cry out in agony as the bones in your knee were smashed. Hearing that cry was like a punch in the stomach. He was the first to reach you, landing roughly and sprinting over, his own broom discarded in his haste. But when he reached you there was nothing he could do - or if there was, he couldn’t think of it. Your face was pale and tears rolled down your cheeks faster than he had ever seen. He wanted to comfort you but he was reluctant to touch you in case you had been hurt further in the fall. He was helpless, just crouching beside you and watching you half-writing in the sand, making gut-wrenching noises.

“I’m here, love,” he’d heard himself say pathetically, but he’d had no room in his mind for any self criticism in that moment. He looked frantically around to see some of the professors rushing over, and he felt a vice-like grip suddenly grab his hand. He glanced down to see your wet, scared eyes looking up at him, your body trembling with pain. “They’re coming.” He began to reach out for you nut stopped himself. He could already feel his arm going numb from how hard you were squeezing his hand but he didn’t care. “It’ll all be over soon, I promise.”

George landed nearby and rushed over too, spewing apologies toward you as he approached. Fred grit his teeth and held out his free hand toward his brother without so much of a glance over his shoulder - the gesture was a warning; stay back, I’ll deal with you later.

The teachers crowded around you, asking questions and preparing to move you. You wouldn’t let go of Fred’s hand even when they told him to be elsewhere, not that he would have left you anyway. Your knee still felt like it was on fire and the pain spread outwards through your body, making you feel as though you were simultaneously freezing and burning up. Breathing heavily you felt you might never catch your breath.

The stands had been almost emptied and the Gryffindor team had tugged George away. The staff were ready to move you and they had a hard time of it due to the fact that you wouldn’t let go of Fred, who was glad he had two hands because he’d had to swap them several times or risk his circulation being cut.

When you reached the hospital wing you were unconscious, and Madam Pomfrey made Fred wait outside the door. He stood there impatiently twisted his fingers. He hadn’t felt so stressed in a long time. George appeared down the passage, some of the team straggling behind him, and Fred remembered he was going to rip him one. However, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. In truth, he could’ve made the same mistake. The whole team had been eager to win, and everybody knew that quidditch was a dangerous sport. Besides, he knew you wouldn’t want him to be angry with his brother over something like this. George began to apologise again, but Fred pat him on the back and shook his head gently.

Once you were awake and had finished being tended to, Madam Pomfrey decreed that you could have one visitor. You insisted that you were fine again and again, but you deduced that it was George’s sad expression that caused her to surrender. When she was preoccupied, Fred drew the curtains around your bed so he could climb in next to you and pull you carefully into his side. Your knee was all strapped up over your quidditch uniform and your leg was propped up on a pillow. Leaning into Fred’s shoulder you gave him a weak smile.

George, meanwhile, had gotten to his knees alongside your bed. He had gotten out of his own quidditch gear and was now wearing a jumper and jeans. He took your hand from the bed and clasped it in both of his own, trapping it. 

“I’m so terribly sorry.” You’d been about to say something, but he gushed on. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll give you all my sweets from Honeydukes. I’ll get Dumbledore to give you 300 house points. I’ll carry you to all your classes!”

“Oi,” Fred protested.

“George,” you said finally. “It’s alright, seriously. I’ll take it as payback for all the times I beat the pants off you.” Which reminded you of something. You looked up at your boyfriend, a little too fast; he went blurry for a few seconds. “The match?” 

Fred shrugged. “I didn’t ask.” You quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly, the quidditch cup was the last thing I was worried about.”

“Aww,” cooed George. His gaze fell to your wounded knee. “How is it?”

“Definitely not as painful now. Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion to dull it.” Both boys looked sombre and were now quiet. It was unsettling to see them this way, as you’d rarely ever seen them so. “Hm, might be nice to have a loyal servant.” You looked down at George and narrowed your eyes.

Fred looked astounded at this, throwing up his free hand that wasn’t holding you. “Excuse me, what am I?”

You and George laughed. “Two, then.”

“I thought your boyfriend was going to knock my block off back there,” George told you. “I knew your relationship was hazardous.”

Madam Pomfrey returned once more to shoo the boys off and give you another potion, but somehow you convinced her to let Fred stay a little longer, that it would aid in your recovery. She allowed it, but walked away tutting.

“Gave me a real fright, you did,” he said quietly as you tipped the potion back and swallowed it with a grimace. This one felt like ants crawling down your throat and tasted faintly like pickled eggs. “Falling out of the sky like that. And the noise you made... I felt like I’d come face to face with a dementor; my whole body went ice cold. I never want to see you in pain like that again.”

Your chest tightened at his words, imagining how it would feel if it had been him and you had been helpless to stop his agony. Bringing your hand up to cup his face you kissed his lips, and when you tried to pull away he chased them for more. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips when he finally parted from you. The words had never been more true than now. 

“I love you too,” he returned with a soft smile, bumping your nose with his own.

You sank deeper against him as he interlaced his fingers with yours. Beginning to realise just how drowsy you were from the potion your eyes started to droop as his fingers twirled a strand of your hair. You hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t come back for a while yet.

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But I also always wonder, what is the point? Any likes or praise you get is for work that isn’t yours?? Surely you’re not getting warm fuzzy feelings if people like a story that you’ve plagiarised??

okay… but like… how about you just don’t copy and paste other people’s fanfics and pass them off as your own????? that’s a thought.

not to mention when you can clearly copy and paste the writing in a search engine and pinpoint the original post where it was originally posted.

[unwritten-ravenclaw]

Writing has two stages:

1. you can't stop

2. you can't start to save your life

[unwritten-ravenclaw]

Rescue - George Weasley

Summary: George rescues you from a creepy crawly

A/N: Inspired by real events, dramatised to make this lengthy enough to post. Except instead of a cute guy it was my mum who rescued me and I played Taylor Swift to stop freaking out and sleep. so yeah.

Warnings: arachnophobia, descriptions of a spider, spider killing?

You had just had the most relaxing bubble bath after a long day on your feet. Dressing in your comfiest set of pyjamas, you grabbed the book you were currently enjoying and settled into the big comfy armchair your husband had so chivalrously brought up to the corner of the room. He had done so on the condition that you would sit and read when you couldn’t sleep instead of watching him while he slept, which he insisted was weird. You had agreed to this condition, but of course you couldn’t help glancing over the top of your book and taking a peek at him as he dozed. 

Despite the fact that it was a big house, you and George were usually in the same room. Most nights when he would sit in his study doing paperwork you would sit on the other side of the room and occupy yourself with this or that. But tonight you opted to be in the bedroom so that when you could no long keep your eyes open you could take two steps and fall into bed.

You weren’t sure how much reading you were going to be able to manage tonight; you were quite tired and you’d stayed in the bath so long that you had that heavy, waterlogged sort of feeling. You’d cracked your book open and read the same paragraph four times when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw something move near your feet. Your eyes flicked up to inspect it and instantly brought your feet up onto the chair as fast as if the floor was suddenly burning. 

It was a spider, a large brown one with thick, long legs. As soon as you had moved it had stopped dead in its tracks. Smaller spiders you could cope with, but this one was about three sizes up from those. Reaching for your pockets you realised you had none. You gazed around quickly before spotting your wand on the bedside table - on the far side of the bed from you.

You could feel your heart hammering, not the least bit emboldened by the inner voice telling you that this fear was irrational. Your thoughts were moving as fast and your nerves were pulsing throughout your body. If you put your feet down to retrieve your wand, or any other kind of defensive weapon, it would likely move, which was the last thing you wanted. On the other hand you could probably jump from the chair to the bed, but what if it still decided to move and climbed onto the bed with you via the duvet which was dangling on the floor? You sent up a silent promise that from this moment on you would never leave your side of the bed unmade again. 

You were staring at the spider intently so that if it did move you would see where it went, but the longer you looked at it the more creeped out you became. With a helpless whimper you hugged your knees tighter to your chest and deferred to the only sound plan you had.

George’s hand was cramping from all the documents he’d been filling out. He decided he’d take a break from writing and read through some of the contracts that were starting to pile up. Fred was never really one for contracts, quill poised to sign without having read the fine print, so George had taken up that responsibility. He just didn’t understand why they couldn't be straight to the point instead of drawing out terms with unnecessary flair and words that were not used in everyday language.

His eyes began to grow weary as they trekked through line after line, the words blurring together as his chin pressed heavily into the hand that was holding it up. He kept fighting it, every time his eyes fell shut he would pry them open and start again, but it was no use. He sleepily thought perhaps he should go to the kitchen for a snack to wake him up, remembering the sweet samples crammed into the back of the cupboard.

“George!”

George sat upright, suddenly more awake. For a moment he though he might have imagined it, but his imagination wasn’t that good. The distress in your voice made him panic. He stood up in a hurry, almost knocking the chair over. He raced upstairs, taking them two at a time, trying to keep his mind from horrible scenarios of what he might find when he reached you.

When he found you he saw nothing but his wife in her favourite chair. He scanned the room but found no evidence of anything amiss. He began to make his way over to you, but when he took a step into the room you squeaked. “What’s wrong?” You still didn’t look up so he followed your unwavering gaze and spotted the cause. “Oh, my love. You do know this is one of those run of the mill garden spiders, not an acroman-“

“Yes! George, please, if you love me just kill it!”

“I’ve left my wand downstairs, I’ll be right-“

“No! Don’t you leave me, George Weasley!”

“Alright, alright!” 

One of the spider’s legs moved and you flinched. You had been looking at it so long you were well into a case of heebie-jeebies. George reached for a slipper close to him and you looked up. 

“Not mine! Use one of yours!”

His eyes widened before replacing the slipper and grabbing one of the bigger pair. “For someone who desperately needs saving you sure have a lot of demands on how it should be done,” he was only joking, which he conveyed in his tone of voice, but you’d had such a long day, your nerves were frazzled and George noticed the signs that you were on the verge of tears. “It’s okay, darling. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I’ll get him now, okay?”

“Thank you,” you sobbed quietly. 

By now you were almost transfixed, and though George was here and was going to deal with it, though your eyes were burning with strain and you didn’t want to see the wretched thing for a second longer, you found you couldn’t look away, paranoid about the creature escaping and turning up elsewhere.

George raised the slipper and took two steps forward, the floor creaked under his weight and the spider scuttled about an inch across the floor before halting again, a few legs raised as if challenging George to attack. George’s eyes swiftly checked on you, your face was in a grimace but you had not moved an inch, although he thought he’d seen you shiver. He renewed his grip on the tattered slipper.

“I can’t watch,” he heard you say, but you only closed one eye and did not turn your face. 

George was at once endeared and sympathetic to you. He was only a few steps away and he wanted to reach for you and comfort you, but instead he focused on the task at hand. This time he would get it done and put you out of your misery.

The slipper cut swiftly through the air and delivered a convincing ‘thwack’. Finally he had been quicker than the creature. He was pretty certain it was dead, but he gave it another blow just for serenity’s sake. As the shoe hit the second time, the spider was thrown into the air in front of you and with cat-like reflexes you launched yourself onto George and he caught you awkwardly, dropping the makeshift weapon and instinctively taking a few steps backwards, so as not to topple over with the sheer force of your pounce. 

Your legs were clamped around his waist like you were holding on for dear life and George suppressed a chuckle. He brought a hand to caress your head soothingly, admitting to himself the warm glow in his chest at being, of sorts, your saviour. When your breathing settled and his knees could no longer bear it he set you down on the floor. You turned to see the carnage and winced. The critter had lost a few limbs and was crumpled up defeatedly. You would’ve felt sorry for it had it not just ruined the night that was meant to have been relaxing.

“All better?” George inquired softly.

Taking in a deep breath you replied, “Yes.” 

You were exhausted, yet wide awake, your body unsettled. George moved in your peripheral vision and you almost jumped, your heart picking up speed again as he pressed a kiss to your temple. When he released you, you’d made up your mind. 

“I’m sleeping downstairs tonight.”

“Wh-“ George looked between the dead spider and you. “Babe, it’s dead. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Determinedly you swiped your wand off the nightstand and headed for the door, grabbing George’s hand on the way. “You’re sleeping downstairs too.”

[unwritten-ravenclaw]

That’s the one! Thank you so much! I love this, it made me laugh so many times and just gives me warm feelings x

Oh boy, I’m hoping you can help me but I’m sorry to bother you! A few weeks ago I read this fake dating Fred one shot, it was quite lengthy and I’m hoping you or someone else might know what it’s called or who wrote it because apparently I didn’t heart it and can’t find it again! Unhelpfully, the only specific detail I can remember is they’re fake dating because of Cormac 🙈

Hi!! I think this actually might be mine?? if its not please dont hesitate to send another message in and we can try and figure it out!

Stuck Together, Forever

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magic is might

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i don’t get how ppl can hate the rain ? like…..the ocean came all this way to give the world tiny kisses & u treat her like this ???

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I was help hostage in my bedroom by a massive spider and I’m now slightly scared to sleep in my bedroom

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I think about this every time!

Hey guys, can we talk about Fred Weasley’s handwriting because

my god this boy has such messy handwriting. It’s charming and hurts my head at the same time 

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Taylor Alison Swift literally out here single-handedly saving 2020 👏👏

[unwritten-ravenclaw]

Bellamy Blake imagine - Five Minutes

A/N: It’s now December, I started this in May and didn’t know how to end it but I finally finished it, sorry it’s so short! After writing the start of this I started on one about Bellamy’s PTSD, hopefully that will be longer.

What woke you from your almost-sleep was a concerned voice calling your name. A voice that was familiar even through the pounding in your head and the feeling of fullness in your ears. You cracked one eye open to see him come through the flap of the tent before you threw a hand up to shield the brightness of your surroundings. Tent walls did not protect from much, especially not from the light of day.

“Go away, Bellamy,” you croaked, your own voice echoing through your head as you spoke. “I’m dying.”

Bellamy chuckled, and though you couldn’t see it you knew he was smirking, his favourite expression besides scowling. “So after everything - Grounders, Mountain Men, acid fog - it’s going to take a common cold to strike you down?”

You groaned and opened your eyes a little, looking at him through your fingers. He was less blurry now, and you could see he was in his usual stance; hands on his hips, head cocked as he looked down at you laying, dishevelled and pathetic, on what passed as a bed. “Yes. Tell them I was brave.”

Sitting down beside you, making the bed sink on one side and jostling you, to which you groaned again, he swept his hand to your forehead. His hand felt big and warm on your brow which felt comforting. “You don’t feel feverish. I think you might live.”

“No,” you complained. You placed your hand on top of Bellamy’s which lingered on your face.

Bellamy chuckled once again. “Why don’t you want to live?”

“I’ll live if you lay with me,” you tugged at his arm with your free hand as if it might convince him. He looked at you for a moment before rolling his eyes and climbing over you onto the small bed. His arm scooped under your head as he pulled you closer against his side as he settled in. “I’m too sick to care that you have your boots on my blanket.”

“I was hoping you were too sick to notice,” his reply came with every evidence of a smirk. A sigh rippled through his chest and escaped his mouth. It was a sound you were familiar with, the sound of him finally getting to rest after a long day or night on his feet. “I can’t stay long,” he spoke quietly, his lips against your hair.

The hand that wasn’t being used to cuddle you to him found a strand of your hair and began twisting it in his fingers. You knew by now that he always did this absentmindedly; it had become a habit of his soon after you’d gotten together. He did it when he was lost in thought while holding you, or when he was listening to you talk late at night before you both drifted off to sleep. He was probably now thinking about something that happened out there today, or a strategy for the next encounter with enemies and how he was going to keep everyone safe.

“Why not?” you whispered, too tired to try to keep the disappointment from your voice. You felt the strand of hair start twisting in the other direction and knew that you’d probably end up in Harper’s tent with a pair of scissors and another indomitable knot for her to hack at.

“I’m on watch.”

“You’re always on watch,” you pressed your face into the side of his neck which was warm. Nonchalantly as possible, you brought your hand to his chest. After it had been there for a bit, you started drawing soft and slow circles there, hoping he wouldn’t cotton on to what you were doing. “Can’t someone else do it?”

“Y/N.”

“Bell.”

“If I don’t do my share they won’t respect me.”

“Oh come on, Bell, you do way more than your share of everything around here.”

Bellamy began to answer, but had to stifle a yawn before he could say much. “That’s what... being a leader means.” You watched as his blinking became more frequent as he struggled to fight to stay awake. “Just for five minutes,” he relented, no longer able to keep his eyes open.

“Just five minutes,” you repeated, victorious and knowing he would sleep longer than intended with how exhausted he was. With a kiss to his cheek you snuggled your head back into his neck and drifted off to the sound of his heavy breathing.