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#Ron Weasley
bowieandqueen11 · 2 days ago
Mistletoe / George Weasley Imagine
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Request: Hey Cee 😊, Could I request something for george weasley, the reader is at the burrow to celebrate christmas with the weasley family. When the reader is getting ready to go home, the reader and george are standing in front of the doorframe but out of the blue appears a mistletoe above the doorframe (it was rons and freds plan or idea 🙈). George kissed the reader and they are confessing their feelings to each other, please? Thank you 😌
@jackys-stuff-blog​ Jacky!!! Hello my darling I hope this is okay!! <3
If you enjoy, please do comment <3
(I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @freddycarterz.)
You couldn’t help it.
Even when you were shoving the last woollen arm of Mrs. Weasley maroon knitted sweater into the unfathomable depths of your suitcase, you couldn’t stop the giggles from escaping out of your pursed lips. From where you were still standing in Fred and George’s little shared room, you could just about to make out the blur of red hair and gangly legs throwing themselves down the crooked staircase. The sound of feet thumping down towards the kitchen echoed around the wooden walls and thankfully managed to drown out the sound of your laughter.
‘Oi, Fred, as soon as I catch you your dead, you hear me!’
Despite the pounding of the stairs from the brothers swept up in fraternal revelry, neither managed to waken Mr. Weasley, who was still sleeping comfortably in the armchair in the corner of the room. Even more unexpectedly, neither managed to knock the yellow paper crown that was tilted fondly on the top of his snoring head.
You could just about make out the sound of pots falling off the edge of the sink, and one of the Weasley brothers banging the edge of their head on one of the loose roof beams above their head before the sound of boots and laughter receded into the garden.
‘As if. We’ll be here till the summer before you’ve even made it out the front door!’ 
Fred’s shout from behind a thicket of snowy bushes was met only by the sound of growling, a loud splash, and then silence.
You couldn’t put a finger exactly on what prank the Weasley twins had pulled on their own unsuspecting younger brother now. From the trail of gold glimmers that shot from his back like a comet’s trail as he ran, you could only guess that Fred had replaced the feathers in his brother’s pillow with glitter... again. You all should have been expecting it, really. Apart from Percy’s cracker exploding in a shower of earwax and shaving cream when poor Ginny had pulled it during dinner on Christmas Day, George had been so wrapped up in spending every moment of every day trying to get your attention that the family had been spared their childish prank war. No, although you could see the mischief still gleaming readily behind that glint in his eye, George Weasley’s attention had been drawn towards something far more important. You.
Even Ginny had picked up on it, as she fervently recounted while the two of you were lying side by side on her bed a few days before. Shoving the rest of the chocolate frog she had handed you into your mouth, you buried your head into her duvet cover with a groan, solely to hide the rising blush tinkling your cheeks with peach as she counted on her fingers all the times she had seen her brother distracted this Christmas. The way he had nearly fallen over the sofa to sit next to you in the evenings, not even listening to his family talk and argue and laugh. He was too busy ignoring the way his arm burned where it brushed against yours, and trying to keep the grin plastered on his face to make sure you don’t notice how his soft eyes kept glancing over to you in the hopes you would take your nose out of your book and notice him. Or the way he had trounced Percy to the floor at breakfast, quite literally knocking him out of his chair with one of his legs so he could get the final spot next to you. He ignored the way Percy frowned and rubbed the top of his head as he got up, too busy placing his slender fingers under his chin and looking at you with a dopey, star-struck smile as he asked if you were having a good morning.
‘I’ve never seen him this bad before, Y/n, what did you do to him? Even Fred was starting to worry.’
Blowing out a sigh, you finished clinking the clasps of your bag together, before resting it heavily on the tarnished rug of the twin’s room. Ginny had been right, you thought, as you perched down on the edge of George’s bed and idly began to run your fingers over the striped scarf Molly had knitted him for Christmas this year. Even though it was now strewn over the edge of his bed post, coming dangerously close to knocking over the Quidditch magazines that lay on the desk if one of them decided to swing it hard enough, it still had that familiar scent that only could be George. That hint of chocolate, fireworks and black pepper that brought you straight back to first year and your first week at Hogwarts, when you had first sat next to the twins in the Great Hall after the Sorting Ceremony.
Now, so many years had past, and George had grown closer to you than you could even have imagined. If it didn’t include sneaking off to the closed off bathrooms on the seventh floor during the night to add ingredients you had stolen from herbology to their sweet cauldron, it included putting dung bombs under Percy’s bed and seeing who could get caught last. It wasn’t as if you had never spent Christmas at the Burrow before - with Harry and Hermione there too, this place felt more like a home to you over the years than your own, nearly matching Hogwarts in the fond place it kept in your heart. But Ginny was right, George had been acting odd towards you recently. It seemed he had been almost nervous, especially as the holiday season was drawing to a close, and you would have to return home soon to collect your school books and cauldron set for your final year.
That’s why, when you heard his deep voice suddenly appear from the doorway, you nearly jumped out of your skin.
‘Y’know, generally if you’re trying to steal someone’s clothes, it’s only good manners to do it while they’re not actually standing in the room.’
You dropped the scarf back on the bed, a humorous scoff itching in the back of your throat. ‘Well, you’re not technically in the room are you? Mister I’m standing on the landing.’
With one short stride, the top of George’s head brushed against the splintering top of the door frame until it reached the edge of his wardrobe, lingering as if he were nervous to be in his own room. Stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, a proud grin widened his lips at your response. 
‘You’ve been hanging around Hermione too much, you’re starting to even sound like her’, he swung forward slightly on his toes, nerves biting at his heels like pinwheels. 
‘And now’, he starts again, taking another step closer to where you rested on the edge of his bed. ‘Now, you have no excuse, do you? Caught red handed, you’ve been.’ His words came out in almost a whisper, but you could sense the precariousness, the anticipation in his light-hearted tone.
Kicking your suitcase out of the way, you rise till you’re standing in front of the man, just reaching the tip of his chin. Smirking, you make eye contact with him, enjoying the way his smile falters into something fonder, more genuine, as he licked his bottom lip and followed your path. 
‘Well, from where I’m standing’, you take a step towards him, taunting him into moving as well with each word, ‘I have a straighter path towards the door.’
And then there’s chaos. The sound of laughter and giggles is only broken up by the sound of Mrs. Weasley calling up to the two of you to pack your things and get in the car, but you’re too busy trying to shake George’s fingers off your side to even realise that soon, you would have to go. The few weeks between leaving the Burrow and returning back to Hogwarts were always the hardest, for the two of you. So, you allow yourself to get lost in him, squealing as you try to stamp on his left foot and distract him, so you can duck under his armpit and make your way to the door. Before you can even take a step past the orange button of his vest, though, two slender arms wrap around your stomach and have lifted you up from the floor.
You wiggle, trying your best not to fall over in giggles as he holds you tight, strong against his chest. His grip is firm as you elbow his stomach, and he’s  warm against your skin as he folds over you to try and get a better grip. Seizing the moment, you manage to fall out of his grasp and run to the door frame, only being stopped by fingers wrapping around your wrist.
‘Wow, you could give Peeves a run for his money. I haven’t had a punch like that since my second year.’
Panting, he leans his back against the edge of the door, all sweaty locks and cherry burnt cheeks and by everything if he didn’t look glorious. He smirks down at you, crossing his arms, nonchalant, across his chest, but even can see that you’ve noticed the way his fingers flex and dig into the silk of his purple shirt.
‘Well, to be fair, you did deserve it. Catching me stealing your stuff like that, how could you.’
Ginny rushes down the stairs, Harry’s forgotten coat in her hand. As she brushes past her brother’s shoulder, still wracking slightly with laughter, she shoots you a wink and you gaze down at the floor with a smile.
‘You’re always welcome to all my clothes Y/n. ‘Cause if you steal mine, I can just steal Fred’s.’
You shake your head, smiling at the antics of the love sick man in front of you. His own face lights up, happy that he’s accomplished his mission to make you laugh. After a moment, though, his smile falls again as he hears his mother’s shouts, and he becomes silent once more.
‘You know’, he starts again after an awkward second of him itching his arm, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. ‘I really- I really am going to miss you when you go. I always do. Life never just feels as fun when you’re not around.’
Shocked by the seriousness of his voice, you raise your head again and meet his eyes head-on. By their wideness, they look almost shocked by his own admission. But then he realises himself again, and finds himself sighing as he smiles.
‘It’s only a couple of weeks, George-’
‘I know, but it’s, it’s just that letters don’t feel enough anymore, Y/n. Not since me and Fred left school. I just... I just miss you, is all. I miss having you by my side.’ Shrugging, he seems almost shy as he glances down at his dress shoes, before he looks at you again. The look he gives you almost makes your legs shake, so heart-broken yet so trusting at the same time - a fragile man wrapped up in veils of faux confidence and absurdity. ‘Plus, as our official sweet tester, if you come join us at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, I think we owe you free sweets for life.’
It takes you a moment to shake off his joke, and try and scramble together some words that could meagrely muster up all you wanted to say. ‘I know, I- I miss you too, George. More than you can imagine.’
Before the awkward pair of you could say anything more, despite both your mouths falling open and your bodies leaning forwards as if desperately, instinctively realising how drawn towards each other you are, you hear a faint whisper float up from the shoe cupboard.
Frowning, it takes you a moment to realise what in the world the sound was, until you piece together the murmured fragments as some sort of incantation. Turning back towards George, his eyes glisten like fresh snow as he glances up towards the ceiling, his heart pounding out through his mouth.
Mistletoe. It was mistletoe that was slowly spreading it’s green vines down over the wood, splintering out into little pockets of pearls before finally blooming above two hearts secretly in love.
George gulps, nervous, as his eyes flitted down towards you. Yet, he noticed you didn’t pull away - no, if anything, you had leant towards him in wonder. Your eyes never left the plant, but your arms and your feet were guided towards George until you’d stepped on his toes and knocked against his chest.
‘I’m not much of a rule breaker, you know?’, he chuckles, leaning down until his nose bumped against yours and you could feel his breath brush against your mouth like dragon’s fire. It earns him a guffaw, but no noise, no sound, no action on earth could a man in love so desperate to drink in every part of you, to quench the thirst in his soul. Long fingers slid across your shoulder, glancing over your neck and tracing little maps along your skin until they reached your chin, curling so you were tilted further up towards his lips.
‘For once, George Weasley, close your mouth and kiss me.’
A look of pure relief floods his face as he edges his nose forward. His eyes crinkle shut, the little butterfly kiss ending his smile as they fall towards your lips and press ardently against your own. Reaching up into his hair, you pull on the frays until his tall frame nearly falls on top of you, but he refuses to break apart. Instead, an arm wraps around your waist until you’re pressed against his hips, and he lifts you up as gently as a feather so you can reach his mouth with easier access. 
And as the two of you share one of life’s perfect kisses, neither of you notice a soaking and mud-splattered Ron and Fred bunched up together and sniggering as they tip toe past the other edge of the stairs. With pursed lips, Ron reaches into his pocket and pulls out the sickles he owes his older brother, another bet lost.
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vlntcge · a day ago
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The Discord group suggested the trios, and my roommate suggested 8th Year Dramione, so I am combing both suggestions for this challenge.
Everyone is positively disgusted with them except for Pansy.
They totally don't have bracelets with each other's names on it.
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Ron: I’m having a bad day… I need a drink.
Hugo: Here ya go daddy *hands me his milk*
Ron: Got anything stronger?
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ameliora-j · 2 days ago
cuddling with soft!dom ron after getting in a fight because you feel like he is cheating :')
“you’re being ridiculous!” ron shouted at you from across the room.
“i am not!” you insisted. “ron i’m trying to explain my feelings to you and you won’t listen! please just listen to me!” you begged. ron let out an exasperated sigh before flopping down onto the end of the bed.
“okay,” he sighed, flailing his arms up as he looked at you expectantly.
“do you still love me or not?” you whimpered pathetically. “and d-don’t say that i’m being ridiculous ron please because it’s hurting me. it’s been eating at my all fucking day and i cannot keep doing it. ron please. please just listen to me and hear me out,” you choked over a quiet sob as you hugged yourself, standing six feet away from him.
“baby,” ron whispered. “y’know i love you and i always will. tell me s’ wrong hmm?” he asked, reaching out to you.
you shook your head and backed away. “then why are you always with her?!” you exclaimed.
“who?!” he begged with a whimper.
“lavender!” you finally shouted in exasperation. “you two are always together and you’re always fawning over each other a-and ron if you don’t love me anymore then fine! okay!” you shook your head as tears spilled. “but just break up with me instead of cheating. it hurts way less,” you sniffled as you reached up and wiped your eyes.
“baby…” he whispered, pushing himself to stand. he took two long strides toward you and quickly pulled you into his chest. he gently pet your hair, rocking the two of you softly untill you quit thrashing against him. “i love you,” he whispered as he kissed your head. “i love you more than anything okay? ‘m all your’s baby,” he assured softly.
“promise?” you whimpered with a sniffle.
“promise promise,” he nodded as he kissed your head. “c’mon baby, wanna take a bath?” he asked softly.
“you’ll stay with me?” you asked quietly.
“wouldn’t even dream of leaving you puppy,” he smiled.
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accio-broom · a day ago
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Everything I write today is dedicated to @voldemorts-tap-shoes because did you know it's her birthday today?!
Anyway, enjoy some random jumper drabble that was inspired by an episode of Gogglebox.
The Clothes Swap
“Hermione? Have you seen my jumper? I swear I put it away last night, and now the bloody thing has gone missing!!”
Hermione tuts at the disturbance and lifts her head from the book she only just settled on the sofa to read. Why does Ron have to bellow at her like that from the bedroom, a whole floor above her? Why can’t he come downstairs and ask her nicely?
She takes her time in placing the bookmark between her pages then sets the novel back down on the coffee table. With a yawn, she pushes herself to her feet, deliberately stretching out the minutes before she answers him. It’s her only day off today and they’re heading to the Burrow for lunch soon. She had been looking forward to having a bit of time to read something not work-related. Plus, Ron’s a grown man, and she shouldn’t have to waste her energy chasing him around and sorting out his bleeding jumpers. She’s his wife, not his housekeeper.
It’s probably staring him right in the face, anyway.
“And may I ask which jumper you are shouting at me about?” she asks as she rounds the wooden door frame to their bedroom, leaning against it with her arms crossed over her chest.
Ron stands in front of his side of the wardrobe in his beaten up, holey jeans and the Chudley Canon’s t-shirt that is much too tight for him. Even though Hermione has spent hours replacing his old hand-me-down clothes for brand new ones over the past five years, he still prefers to gravitate to the older versions. She’s sure he only does it to annoy her.
“Much more comfortable this way,” he always protests, whilst tugging the too-short-arms of his Gryffindor hoody down to reach his wrists.
Hermione’s husband is too caught up in rifling through the cupboard that he doesn’t hear her. Either that, or he’s choosing to ignore her. His top rides up as he sinks deeper into the cabinet, exposing the expanse of freckles above his jeans. The sight is enough to flood her core with warmth, and she squirms at the sensation.
Who gets turned on by seeing her husband’s back, a part of his body she gets to see every day? Get a grip, woman!
“Ron? What jumper are you looking for, love?”
His head shoots up, and Hermione winces as he cracks it on the edge of the pine wood. She’s surprised it doesn’t knock him out. Rubbing the injured spot, Ron turns to face her, his eyes widening as he takes her in.
“That bloody jumper! No wonder I can’t find it, you’re wearing it!”
Hermione glances down at the maroon coloured sweater she pulled on this morning, whilst still bleary-eyed and without coffee. She hadn’t been paying attention and definitely hadn’t clocked that it wasn’t hers. Anyway, she’s used to wearing his clothes now, and they're like a second skin to her. There’s something comforting about the scent of him lingering as she goes about her daily business. Although she’d never admit it, Ron is right. His old hand-me-downs and hand-knitted clothes are more comfortable than anything else they can buy at the store.
A smirk spreads across her face as she reasons, “Can’t you wear a different one?”
“But I want that one!”
“Well, you can’t because I’m wearing it.”
Ron slams the wardrobe door shut, sending the precariously built wood wobbling. Hermione holds her breath for a moment as she waits for the cupboard to collapse, but it lives to see another day. He takes two steps left then opens another set of doors.
“Fine! If you’re adamant on wearing my clothes, then I’ll go to dinner in an item from your wardrobe. Maybe a pretty dress?”
He reaches in and takes hold of the first thing he places his hands on—her best purple cashmere cardigan.
“Don’t you dare,” Hermione warns, but her husband pays no heed to her as he pulls the sleeves over his arms, grunting with the effort. “Seriously. You stretch it or ruin it and I’ll divorce you.”
Yanking the cardigan up over his shoulders, Ron turns to grin at Hermione. He looks ridiculous, his arms in a half-hunched position as the tight material holds him in place. Although he’s attempted to button it, there’s no way the edges will meet over his broad chest.
If clothes could cry, this cardigan would be sobbing.
The mirror over Hermione’s vanity desk whistles and the young witch almost agrees with it. The deep colour suits him, making his azure eyes look deeper than usual. She’s not sure whether to swoon or giggle.
“If you’ve ruined that Ron Weasley, then I will hex you into oblivion. Take it off.”
“Make me!”
Hermione takes a step towards him, laughing as he immediately moves away. “Ron!”
“I told you! If you want it, come and get it.”
A flurry of activity follows his command as she attempts to get hold of him without ruining her cardigan. Every time Hermione inches closer, Ron takes a giant stride away. He’s faster than her, and although she tries her best, she can’t keep up with him.
Losing her breath and getting wound up at the ridiculousness of it all, she launches herself at him and wraps her ankles around his legs, sending the pair tumbling to the bed. She straddles his hips, the constraints of the cardigan enough to stop him from fighting back as she launches a tickle attack on him.
“Hermione! Stop! I’m serious. I hate being tickled!”
“I know!”
It continues for a while longer, both of them getting more and more breathless and wound up. Ron must decide it’s not worth trying to retaliate without the use of his arms because before she knows it, he’s craning his neck up to capture her lips in a surprise kiss. It has the desired effect—Hermione abandons her assault and melts into him with a loud moan.
The fighting couple snog until their lungs burn from lack of air. Hermione takes advantage of her position, pressing her hips tight to his to feel the growing hardness as their tongues battle. She loves how easy it is to do that to him.
Ron pulls away with a gasp, rubbing his nose against hers and turning her legs to jelly.
“See, it’s not nice having your clothes stolen, is it?” he questions, beaming up at her with that wide-eyed look on his face that tells her he’s plotting something.
The lop-sided grin that comes with it sends a flood of desire through her body, and she’s breathless when she asks, “How long have we got until your parents are expecting us?”
“Half an hour or so….”
She devours his words, too impatient to wait to hear the last of the sentence as her fingers find the edge of his jumper. For some unknown reason, she’s found her stubbornness in keeping his clothes on has disappeared.
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saturn-elixir · 2 days ago
Smutmas Day 2 ~ Jealousy
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Pairing: Ron Weasley x Female Reader
Warnings: Cussing, Smut, Rough sex, Unprotected Sex
Plot: Reader and Ron have started to get close over the previous year. So much so that he invites her to stay at the Weasley home during summer vacation. The last couple of weeks before Ron becomes sour and Reader can’t tell why. One night during the summer, Reader decided to confront him and finds out that Ron is very jealousy so she challenges him to do something about it.
You were thrilled.
It was nearly summer and you would get to hang out with your best friend, and meet the rest of his family. 
You and Ron Weasely had become fast friends over your love of food, sleeping, and your abundance of annoyance. 
Let’s just say that many nights were spent sharing a midnight snack and complaining about many things, and joking the annoyance away.
 It was like you were the same person.
You both made each other better. 
Hermione sure appreciated it. 
When Ron invited you over to the Weasley home for a couple of weeks in the summer, you were ecstatic.
On this day, a few weeks before school, you were sitting in the hall. You were talking to some boys in your year, about classes. 
You twirled some hair between your fingers. 
“So what did you get on the test Dean?” You asked.
“A pass,” he said. “You?”
You chuckled and chewed on your lip, “Same. An 80″
Dean chuckled and ruffle your hair, “smart ass.”
You chuckled and pawed his hand away. 
“Dean! My hair!” 
You fixed it and chuckled looking over. 
You glanced at Ron standing near the entrance of the hall. 
He held a scowl on his face. 
You tilted your head and got up. “Excuse me, boys,” you said. 
You bounced over to where Ron was, but he turned and left the hall. 
You stopped and watched, a little disappointed. You’d just have to catch up with him later. 
One week until vacation. 
You were so excited. 
You heard down to the quidditch pitch, to pass some time. 
The Gryffindor team was practicing for the end of the year game.
You were going to root for Ron and Harry, mostly Ron. 
You went and climbed the stands, taking a seat next to Hermione. 
“How’s it going so far?” You asked. 
“Wonderful,” Hermione said. 
You nodded and looked clapping. 
“Go, Ron!”
Ron looked over from his position in the hoops. 
He looked right away and shook his head. 
You pouted. 
“ Ron mad at me?” You asked. 
Hermione looked, “I don’t think so, he hasn’t said anything about that to us.”
You nodded and sighed. 
“I guess I’ll just confront him,” You said looking at her. 
Hermione nodded. 
After the game, you went to find Ron. He had been faster than usual getting 
You went searching and found him n the hall eating. 
You walked in and over, plopping down beside him. 
“Hey Ron,” you said.
Ron took a second before he smiled. 
“Hey (y/n).”
You smiled, “you played good today.”
“Thanks, you must be my good luck charm”
You blushed and hugged his side. 
“I’ll take that!” You said. “I was worried that you were upset.”
“Just stressed, with the game, and the OWL’s,” Ron said. 
You nodded and let out a hum. 
“Makes sense.”
Ron smiled and ruffled your hair. 
You chuckled and let him. 
You were just glad that Ron wasn’t mad at you.
Finally, it was time!
Your father landed outside the Weasley home, holding your hand and your bag. 
“Alright darling, behave, use your manners, mind your business,” he said 
knocking on the door.
“I will dad,” you said.
Molly soon opened the door and smiled. 
“(y/n)! Welcome, we’re so happy to have you.” She greeted
You smiled and took your bag. 
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” you said. 
“Come on in, I’m just getting ready to start lunch,” she said. 
You nodded. 
“Bye dad, see you in a week.”
He kissed your head and took off. 
You stepped into the house and took your shoes off. 
“Your home is so cozy, Mrs. Weasley. I feel so at home,” you said. 
“Oh thank you, dear,” she said. “now you can put your bag in Ginny’s room. They're playing quidditch in the back. Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you,” you said and headed up the stairs. 
You climbed the winding stairs and looked around. 
You poked your head into each room until you found Ginny’s.
You smiled and put your bags inside. 
After, you explored a little, finding out where the bathroom was. 
Then, you went downstairs. 
The twins were just coming in, smiling. 
“Hey (y/n)!” They greeted in sync. 
“Hey, boys,” you said greeting them with hugs. 
They hugged you back. 
“Easy, we’re sweaty,” “and we smell.”
“No more than usual,” you chuckled playing with the ends of your hair. 
It was a habit.
They chuckled, “good one.”
“Alright, see you around,” they said going upstairs. 
You looked over and saw Ron watching you guys. 
You smiled looking at him. “Ron!”
He was scowling again.
“Hi,” he said curtly and headed up the stairs. 
You bit your tongue watching him go. He was acting strange again. 
For the rest of the afternoon, Ron held a slight scowl and was giving you the 
cold shoulder. 
You were confused all over again. What had you done wrong?
You were worried. You and Ron had always been so close, what had changed 
over the past few weeks?
It bothered you, but with so much going on, you couldn’t get Ron alone to ask 
him about it.
You waited until after dinner. 
You were in Ginny’s room, getting ready for bed. 
“What’s wrong (y/n), you’re quiet.”
“I’m just... thinking,” you sigh. 
“Aright girl time,” she giggle and sat closer. 
You smiled weakly and looked at her. “It’s Ron.”
“What about him?”
“It’s just...I think I did something wrong. One minute we're best buddies and the 
next he’s giving m the cold shoulder.”
Ginny burst out laughing, covering her mouth. 
“What?” You asked. 
Ginny laughed, “nothing (y/n). Just go talk to him, right now before he passes 
out.” She ushered.
“Fine,” you sighed and got up. 
“I’ll be back,” you said and headed out.
You climbed the stairs, going to the boy’s room. 
You knocked softly and waited. 
Harry opened the door and looked. “(y/n).”
“Hey, I need to talk to Ron.”
Harry nodded and let you in. 
You stepped in. 
“Ginny’s alone,” you hinted nudging him. 
“Right,” Harry said and headed out. 
Ron snorted and watched. 
You shut, and locked his door, turning to him. 
“We need to talk Ron.” You said. “What is your problem?”
Ron rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything.
“Come on Ron, it’s me! you can tell me anything, remember? What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
He snorted slightly and rolled over. 
You grunted, getting annoyed now, and pulled his blanket off. 
“Get up and talk to me. I’m not leaving here without an answer.”
Ron grunted and stood. “Fine, you wanna know what my problem is (y/n)? You 
want to?”
“Yeah, I would like to know!” You snapped, stepping up to him. “Because it’s bollocks how you’re treating me.”
“You’re my problem! Have you no shame? Must you flirt with every boy you 
come across?”
Your jaw dropped. 
“Excuse me!?”
“You heard me,” he said.
“I don’t flirt with anybody you nonce!” You gasped. 
“Yes, you do! You do it to annoy me because you know I like you,” he argued.
You were instantly blown away, but you stood your ground. 
Ron liked you? Ron? Now it all made sense. Ron was jealous. 
You didn’t mind anymore. 
You adore Ron, of course, you liked him too, but now, you had the advantage in the fight.
“Oh yeah?” You barked, getting right in his face. “Do something about it then.”
“I ought to,” he grunted. 
“Do. It.”
You were inches from each other’s faces and chest together. You could see the vein in his neck pulsing. 
It was so hot.
In a split second, his hand was around your throat and his lips were attacking yours. 
You gasped and kissed back gripping his arms. 
His hand moved and gripped your waist. 
Ron was rough. 
And you were okay with that. 
Ron’s lips were haste against yours, smooth and warm, but hungrily enveloping 
You melted at the feel of his warm mouth on yours, his tongue prodding between your lips.
You let him in, his tongue invading and exploring your mouth. 
You moaned faintly, gripping his shoulders. 
Ron’s right hand gripped your waist, the other sliding down and taking a firm 
handful of your ass, and squeezing it. 
You moaned into his mouth. 
Ron made you so wet.
When you broke away to breathe, you were panting deeply looking at him. 
Ron looked down at you, panting, his lips swollen, and his eyes dark with lust. 
You instantly went so shy beneath his touch and nodded aimlessly. You pulled 
on his shirt. 
He smirked and pushed you onto his bed and pulled his shirt off. 
You blushed and pulled your pants off looking at him needily. 
Ron crawled up and kissed you again, hovering over you. 
You kissed back, pulling his hips into yours. 
You were captivated at the moment, and Ron, you just needed him in you. 
“Ron,” you moaned into the kiss. 
“Mhm, I want you now.”
Ron smirked and pulled his bottoms off. “Yeah?”
You nodded and gripped his back. “Yeah.”
Ron positioned himself at your entrance and pulled your underwear to the side. 
“Bloody hell you’re soaked.”
You blushed and nodded. 
“Yeah, because of you, you big jealous ape,” you said. 
Ron smirked and dove into your neck, kissing it sloppily. He grunted slightly, 
Without warning, his cock crammed into you. 
You gasped, tears pricking your eyes, digging your nails into his back. 
He waited for only seconds for you to adjust before he started to thrust. 
“Oh Ron,” you moaned hiding your face in his chest.
 You were trying not to be so loud. 
What would the Family think if you and Ron kept them up all night?
Ron sped up, thrusting into you, his hand holding your waist firmly. 
You gasped and moaned. 
“Oh shit Ron, I’m gonna-”
Ron grunted and started to speed up even more. 
His cock jabbed into you at an unwavering pace. 
The rough boy was driving you wild, no wonder it didn’t take long to make you a 
With a few extra deep thrusts, you moaned out with your climax, your eyes 
rolling back. 
Ron moaned feeling you clench around him and pounded through your high 
before he sloppily pulled out and finished onto your stomach. 
You gasped lightly at the warm splatter and panted harshly.
Ron heaved as he flopped beside you, wiping the hair off his sweaty forehead. 
You panted nodding, trying to catch your breath. 
Your boy was hot and sweaty. 
After moments of heaving breathing, you both started to regulate your breathing. 
Ron grabbed his shirt and wiped you both up before he laid back down. 
“I don’t think Harry will mind if you stay here tonight.”
You nodded and aid your head on his chest. 
Ron pulled up the blanket and held you. 
Now that he had proved himself to you, he wouldn’t be letting you go anytime soon.
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silverdelirium · 2 days ago
Just want to fall asleep on rons lap and have all his friends be like “you got it so bad mate”
ajsienIene yes :,)
and him just shrugging as he looks down at you, “can you blame me?”
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mina-roman · a day ago
Through the Fog
“Hermione?” Ron asked as he knocked on the door to the bedroom she shared with Luna. When there was no answer, he pushed through the peeling whitewashed paint of the wood and found her single bed empty with its covers drawn back and the window wide open. There was no Hermione though.
Ron tried to ignore the lurch in his stomach and reasoned that Hermione might have already gone down for breakfast. Maybe he missed her when he went to the loo. The thought failed to ease the tightness in his chest. It was only quarter-past six and in the week they had been at Shell Cottage, she would always wait for him to bring breakfast up.
He made his way back downstairs, careful to sidestep the creak in the stairs and avoid waking Dean and Harry up. Especially Harry. They silently acknowledged the dark circles under each others’ eyes and carried out the pretence that they were sleeping fine. Harry’s head was fixed on the battle between Horcruxes and Hallows. Ron’s was busy listening for a sign of Hermione’s screams. Only Dean’s light snores sounded in the night. Except when the screaming came. But tonight, there had been none.
As Ron rounded the corner into the kitchen, he found it empty as well. Empty except for the faint steam rising from the kettle’s snout. This time, he didn’t try to repress the panic that was spreading through his limbs, restless to find Hermione. She was better, sure, but still. She didn’t even have a wand on her, and she shouldn’t be going off on her own. It didn’t matter that there were wards in place.
He was out of the cottage with three long strides.
Fog spread like an opaque veil, letting the white of the sky converge into the greyish waters deep in the horizon. Ron’s chilled breath blended in with the mist when he called, “Hermione?”
Spitting rain hit his cheeks, and after a few steps, his fringe was flat against his forehead. The sound of spraying water against cliffs crashed in his ears, but there was no other answer.
“Hermione!” Ron shouted, whipping his head back and forth trying to find her. “Hermione!” He walked on the crunch of shells and pebbles. “Hermione,” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing as he dropped to his knees beside her, the tomb before them. Even through the fog, he made out the words etched in stone:
Hermione turned to him, her hair flatter than normal with the rain, but her curls clinging to some bounce in the shape of soft S’s.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Ron said. He took her hands into his own. They were icy as if she had dipped them in the water and was waiting for them to turn blue. “You’re freezing.” Without hesitation, he shucked off his thick jumper from a few Christmases ago. “Here.” He prepared the woolly knit and pulled it over Hermione’s head. She lifted her arms up, letting Ron guide the sleeves over her.
Once resurfaced, she whispered, “It smells like you.”
“Sweaty?” he joked. Though Hermione smiled, she didn’t laugh.
“Like chocolate… And warmth.”
His stomach contracted.
He chose his words carefully. “How do I smell warm?”
“I don’t know.” Her brows furrowed. “It’s the smell of my duvet when I don’t want to get up from bed because it’s so snug. You’re the only person that smells like that.”
“Is that a good thing?”
Ron’s heart gave a lurch. Kneeling in the rain, her hair wet, her cheeks rosy, Hermione looked like she’d walked out of the ocean. Even in his well-worn jumper with frayed yarn and stitches poking out of place, she looked beautiful. And as if her looks weren’t enough to send him to his knees (which he already was), then he would bow to hear her say those words again.
But he didn’t bow nor beg. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Why are you out here? I couldn’t find you.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Nightmares? I didn’t hear you. I’m so—”
“Don’t be sorry. I just didn’t fall asleep.” That explained the sunken pits under her eyes. “I miss Dobby. I miss Hedwig. I miss Dumbledore and Sirius. And it could’ve been me, too.”
“Don’t say that. Never say that,” he croaked. Ron pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her shoulders to create friction and warmth. He let her head fall into him.
“It almost was, though,” Hermione mumbled into his sternum.
“Please, Hermione. We need you.”
She pulled back. “Is that all?” The question rang higher. A note threatening to break with a sob.
No. No, no, no, he wanted to say.
He waited too long, and Hermione moved further away, returning her gaze to the stone before them. The flowers that Luna placed in a vase twirled with a gust of wind. He took a moment to find his words.
“I was so scared,” began Ron, and he wasn’t sure if his voice carried over the rain and sea. “I’d never been so scared in my life. Not when I saw that queen attack me in first year during the chess match. Not when I saw you frozen like a statue for months. Not when I thought the Grim was about to kill me. Or when I was dragged under the lake for an hour. Or at the Ministry or the Astronomy tower when Death Eaters were attacking us.
“I was always doing something then. Acting. But at the Manor…” Ron gulped down the knot at his throat, blinked and let the tears wet his face along with the spitting droplets of rain. “I couldn’t do anything. I was powerless. Useless.” His heart was drumming, and he found that its rhythm was steady – an unmistakable calmness he didn’t expect. “I need you.”
Hermione sighed. “I want more than that.”
“I want you.”
“Then why did you leave?” It wasn’t a challenge. Her voice was full of pained curiosity.
“I-I…” No words came to him.
“You left me. If you needed me, wanted me, why did you leave me? I begged you to come back. I cried myself to sleep in your jumpers. That’s how I know what you smell like. I drowned myself in chocolate and warmth but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”
“No, Hermione. I’m not enough. I wasn’t strong enough to fight off the damn locket. I wasn’t strong enough to protect you. I–”
“You were, Ron. You are. I don’t understand it, but I was so close… just so close to letting go. To letting her break me. But I heard your voice, Ron. I heard you say my name, and…”
“You came back,” he finished.
Hermione nodded.
He reached into his pocket until he pulled out the silvery apparatus. Holding it in his hands, he said, “I will follow you, Hermione. Wherever you go. In this life and the next.”
“Don’t say that. We’re not in some sort of epic.”
“Aren’t we? We’re not just in the middle of a war, we’re leading it.”
Hermione laughed, and this time, the smile glistened in her eyes. “So, I guess we need to win.”
Ron grinned and draped his arm over her, pulling her into him. Staring at the tomb, he said, “Yes, we do.”
* * *
This was written for the lovely @voldemorts-tap-shoes because it's her BIRTHDAY today!!! Wishing you the happiest birthday, and I'm sorry for the Angst <3
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adenei · 2 days ago
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Summary: It's the most wonderful time of the year! Unless you're Hermione Granger, a teacher who is forced to spend the first part of her Christmas holiday fulfilling her requirement for professional development hours so she doesn't risk losing her teaching license. But things look up when she meets fellow teacher Ron Weasley, who's also in the same predicament until they're both stranded due to an ice storm that grounds air traffic, delays the trains, and forces all cars off the road. Will they get home in time for Christmas? And if they do, what will happen when they have to part ways? A Romione Fluffy Christmas fic
@voldemorts-tap-shoes this one's for you! Happy birthday, my dear, dear friend and thank you for this mash-up ask way back when! Here's hoping I know where this is going 😅
She’s been so focused on actually teaching that she’d forgotten about the other requirements of the job, which just so happened to include a quota of professional development hours that any certificate-holding educator needs to achieve every five years. An amount that Hermione is fifteen hours short on and needs to fulfill by the first of the year, or she risks losing her teaching qualification altogether.
Hence why she’s on this plane, heading to Scotland for a blasted conference five days before Christmas.
If only they’d let me include the hours I’ve spent reading educational books. Why doesn’t that count for anything?
Hermione looks up, startled by her seatmate, who she hasn’t even noticed until now.
“I—did I just say that out loud?”
The man chuckles. “Er, I’m afraid you did. Again.”
🎄 Read the rest on AO3
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folk-melody · 2 days ago
Hi! Can you rec any fics where romione work at a hospital? Like healer aus?
Hello anon! Of course I can! Have some medical professional Romione fics in no particular order and please check the tags before reading!
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Change Your Mind by @accio-broom (Healer Hermione)
A Practical Stranger by @cheesyficwriter (Healer Hermione)
Nothing Like The Present by @cheesyficwriter (Healer Hermione)
Fly Away Home by @azaleablueme (Healer Hermione)
Untitled Ficlet by @ballerinaroy (Healer Hermione)
The Best Medicine by @zurisenchantedquill (Healer Ron)
Words Fail Me by Solstice Muse (Therapist Ron)
50/50 Makes Full by @heavensquill (Occupational Therapist Hermione)
Love Me Like You Do by K_booklover98 (Healer Ron)
Educating Ron by inell (Mediwizard Ron)
Air by @zurisenchantedquill (Nurse Ron)
If you enjoyed them, don't forget to leave kudos & comment, no matter how old the fic is! I promise it will make the author's day!
Feel free to send me asks!
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cheesyficwriter · a day ago
Happy Sunday! This drabble was written in honor of my dear friend and beta, @voldemorts-tap-shoes! So here's a fic just for you, featuring Romione & our favorite Weasley jumpers. Happy happy birthday!
The Missing Jumper
It’s Mid-January, and Ron is more perplexed than ever as to why he can't find his favorite jumper. He's searched and searched through his trunk multiple times with no such luck at recovering the lost item.
It's really quite infuriating how his clothing mysteriously disappeared. The more dramatic side of him feels offended that he's been robbed of his cosiest jumper, which makes him just want to crawl up into the fetal position on the floor and have a good cry.
And if it's just one of his dorm mates playing a practical joke on him, well, there better be a plan to give it back. Granted, he's not super attached to his clothes. Most of them are Mum's hand-knitted jumpers, and though the sentiment is nice, sometimes the wool is itchy and the heat of the material makes him sweat.
However, not once did it occur to Ron that there could be another culprit at play here. At least, not until his eyes spot the very jumper he’s been missing.
The discovery is made as he wakes up shivering in the middle of the night. The castle is bloody freezing, and he longs for the warmth of his lost jumper even more. Trudging out of his four poster bed, he decides to sit by the fireplace in the common room.
He's not the only one who has had the same idea, he realizes, as he pauses just before descending down the final step on the staircase. It's Hermione that he sees fast asleep on the chaise closest to the fireplace, which he knows is her favorite place to curl up with a good book. Judging by the dwindling embers burning in the hearth, it looks like she’s been here for a while.
Much to his surprise, she's managed to find another way of staying warm, bundled in a maroon-colored jumper.
And it's got an R stitched on the front for Ron. Ron! The corner of his mouth curves up. Bloody hell, if anybody else sees her wearing it, they'd think — well, what would people think?
Perhaps he should consider this type of theft the highest form of flattery. It feels good to know that Hermione didn't steal Harry's jumper, or anyone else's. She stole his. But, why?
When he's not around, or so she thinks, Hermione wears his jumper and has a way to stay connected to him. Although it doesn't seem to be her intention for anybody else to find her wearing his clothing, Ron can't help but take pride in her change of style.
Honestly she just looks really fucking adorable and so small underneath the oversized jumper. He only hopes that it smells good — how does it smell? How does he smell? Well, she's wearing it, so it can't be that bad to be wrapped in his scent.
Ron can just imagine her raiding his trunk for — wait just a bloody minute. How did she even get his jumper?
Nevermind that. It's Hermione. He decides it's probably best that he doesn't know how she managed it. As long as she's not planning to commit a crime and frame him for it.
Though it may happen to be his favorite jumper — and perhaps Hermione knows this after seeing him wearing it quite frequently — he finds he doesn't really mind that she's nicked it.
Doesn't mind at all.
"Hey, Harry? Have you seen my maroon jumper?" Ron asks the next day, just loud enough for Hermione to overhear from the opposite end of the table.
"Which one?" Harry responds, a hint of sarcasm evident in his tone, without even looking up from the parchment he's revising on.
"Y'know, my newest one. The one Mum knit me for Christmas. It's the one that fits me best, but I can't seem to find it anywhere."
When Ron glances over at Hermione, he notices how tense her fingers look holding her quill, and although her eyes are still trained on the book in front of her, she's seized all movement.
A rare kind of satisfaction rolls through him. Yes, she's definitely listening.
Harry shrugs before returning to his work, oblivious as to what's going on. "Haven't seen it."
"Well, whoever's nabbed it, I hope they're taking good care of it. Wouldn't want Mum to worry."
A forced smile appears on Hermione's face. "I'm sure it'll turn up."
Without another word, she packs up her belongings, prompting Ron to ask, "Where are you going?"
"I'm late," she replies in a haste before scurrying out of the room holding her books close to her chest.
"Late for what?" Harry inquires with confusion settling between his brows.
"Haven't a clue," Ron mutters, unable to contain his grin while chuckling to himself.
Later that evening when Ron returns to the common room, he finds his jumper draped over the back of a chair. As he picks it up, he discovers that the garment has been washed, most likely to mask any traceable scent of the wearer. Ron's surprised by how disappointed he is by this notion, although the material has still managed to maintain its original softness.
He doesn't have plans to stash it back inside of his trunk again. Instead, he simply moves it to the chaise closest to the fire and folds it as neatly as he can onto the seat before walking up the staircase.
He decides he doesn't really want the jumper back after all.
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s-n-arly · a day ago
Dealing with the Problematic
In our household we prefer not to support authors or artists who promote intolerance and hate for others (with the exception of Nazis and fascists who deserve all the hate).  For example, when the hubby wanted to relive his adolescent joy with the Ender’s Game series, we picked those up second hand, rather than support an outspoken homophobe. When the daughter was getting indoctrinated to the whole American princess subculture (save me, I’m a princess), we knew we couldn’t just ban princess stuff.  That crap is pervasive and it’s freaking everywhere.  So we did our best to warp the princess narrative.  We didn’t purchase anything princess themed if the princess couldn’t save herself (or at least heavily participate in the saving).  We brought in all the unconventional princess books (The Princess Knight, for example).
For the winter holidays, we have a geek themed tree.  It’s festooned with daleks, starships, dragons, and other fantasy and science fiction icons.  Several years ago we picked up a Harry Potter Hallmark ornament from the first film.  When I took it out of the bin yesterday, I hesitated.
“We need to have a conversation about this.”  I held the box for the family to see.  We had loved the books and movies, but have not touched any of them since Rowling came out as a hardcore TERF.
There were suggestions of putting it back in the bin and dealing with it another time, smashing it with a hammer, or just pitching it.  But then the hubby suggested coming at it obliquely, with some modification.  He noted that it once gave us joy, and several of the cast-members involved in the film have publicly disagreed with Rowling’s message.
Allow me to introduce trans supportive Harry and Ron and their nonbinary steed.
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romioneandhinnylover · 2 days ago
James: What’s for dinner?
Ginny: I don’t know, what won’t you complain about?
James: I’ll get back to you.
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Ron: What makes you happy?
Hermione: Books
Ginny: Quidditch
George: Lee Jordan
Luna: Ginny
Neville: Plants
Harry: Anti-depressants
Harry:......I mean Ron
@nithoos-stuff @sappho-is-my-wife @ronarrys-whore @hinnysphoenix
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