I write, I stress, but never without coffee first

Oh hell, here goes - I write Romione fanfic and if that's your jam or marmelade, here is the link to my works! Cheers!

Summary:

Ron writes songs he’ll never sing. Hermione dates emotionally available men with very punchable scarves. Their friends are tired, tipsy, and completely over the will-they-won’t-they.

There’s a party. A guitar. A poorly timed song. And a lot of feelings that really should’ve been communicated ages ago.

I've reached chapter 18 with this fic (which is saying smth since I'm a slow af poster🙈)

So, if you're into some adventure, angst and some more angst, here is this 😂

....that's it. All I had to say.

Prompt: Sand

The Sand

It was everywhere.

Clinging to her curls—golden dust catching fire in the new light.

Grinding beneath her nails as she thrashed and clawed for purchase, desperate to anchor herself.

Coating her legs, raw and salt-slick, each shift igniting friction, each breath dragged through grit.

Her body writhed on the edge of drowning, the tide inside her threatening to pull her under. Gasps spilled and lost in crashing waves.

The sky blushed.

“Look at me, love.”

And there he was. The flame. The heat. The burn. The sun at her horizon—rising and falling between her thighs.

Dragged under by ocean eyes.

The Ocean

She was everywhere.

Gold rising from the sand like some ancient thing—born of flames and salt and want.

Daylight caressed her hair. Tiny gems of heat and dust mapped her skin.

She arched like the earth waking, hands buried in the shore, gasping as the sea gripped her ankles.

But she was the tide. The pull. The hunger.

And he, the willing wreck.

Each cry from her lips dragged him deeper.

“Look at me, love.” He begged.

And she did. All goddess-eyed, burning.

And he shattered.

Ruined by gold. 

This one was for @hpfanted14

Prompt: forest (if you squint)

Characters: Romione, Harry, George

Drabble: Death by Aubergine 🍆

-‐----------------‐------------------------------------

Burrow barbecue.

Screaming children. Cold beers. Sizzling meat. Bliss wrapped in chaos.

“…and then Bill ducked, Charlie caught a black eye and—Ron, are you even listening?”

“Yeah, yeah. Duck punched Charlie.”

George followed Ron’s vacant stare toward the garden near the forest. Hermione was bent over a basket of aubergines, all curves and criminal intent.

Harry squinted. “Mate, you’re drooling.”

“Fuckin’ hell, she’s weaponised vegetables,” George muttered.

Ron stood abruptly. “Be right back.”

“To do what?!” Harry called.

“Whatever she wants!” Ron shouted, already halfway across the lawn.

George shook his head. “Death by aubergine. What a way to go.”

🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Find all the lovely posted drabbles here:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Drabble_Dabble_June_2025

Excited as hell for reveals!!!! 🍸🪴🧨👑🐇

...

Hermione arched a brow. “You actually do keep whiskey stocked.”

“Did you doubt me?” Ron grinned, pouring them each a measure.

Hermione took her glass, stepping closer. “Not for a second.”

They clinked glasses. Then—in perfect sync, like they’d done this a thousand times—they both leaned against the counter, drinking in silence. Except this silence felt different. It wasn’t awkward or expectant. It was thick, weighed, charged. Ron’s eyes flickered toward her, considering. Hermione took another slow sip, then turned to catch him looking.

A beat.

Two.

Then—very deliberately—she reached over, plucked the glass from his hand, and set it aside. Ron arched a brow, watching her carefully. Hermione tilted her head, running a finger over the rim of her glass. And then, just as Ron opened his mouth to tease her again—

...

...

......

“Overwhelmed?”

She didn’t turn. But she felt him—leaning in, closing the space between them.

“By what, exactly?”

Her breath hitched. This was too much. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back just as Ron leaned in further, his breath stirring a stray curl over her cheek.

No space.

None at all.

For fuck’s sake.

Slowly, he brushed her curls back, baring her neck. She didn’t dare move.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his breath sending a shiver down her spine, “was it the song?”

Heat coiled low in her belly. Oh, he was enjoying this far too much.

“Was it the crowd?”

His fingers skimmed the sliver of skin where her shirt had ridden up, his palm settling just beneath her ribs. Her stomach tightened.

“Or was it me?”

....

You like the vibes, @hotronfest ??? 😏

Snippety snip...

...

A new voice chimed in, this one lower, smoother, and clearly amused, “Oi, mate, maybe don’t suffocate her on the first meeting.”

As Hermione disentangled herself, she glanced up toward the voice—

And was met with a pair of bright blue eyes, tousled red hair, freckles, and a smirk that should’ve come with a damn warning label.

Ron.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Ginny had conveniently failed to mention that her brother was, in fact, hot as hell.

Ok, fair, it was her brother, but where was the public service announcement? The warning sign? The heads-up that she was about to be introduced to a walking, freckled menace with a smirk that could ruin lives?

Someone, somewhere, had failed her.

Ron nudged Seamus aside, extending a hand. “Ron. Nice to meet you.”