#otp day

Something short and sweet for Camelove’s OTP day 💞

“He is my good friend” (Ash with his male companions)

Happy Valentine’s/Single Awareness/OTP, or whatever the heck you wanna call it...Day ❤ Tag a guy friend you know!

Never feel alone because there will always be someone that cares for you, whether if it’s a close friend, family member or just a random nice person you met the other day. Go share the love and/or friendship with someone you know, and make them feel loved and cared for, not just for today, but everyday! <3 (feel free to remove this part and the greeting, if reblogging after Valentine’s)

This is my third and final drabble for OTP Day (only a week late!). I was originally going to go smutty with this, but the muse decided against it and went in a different direction altogether. Ah well, I’ll be writing some smutty drabbles soon.

Requested by: @diva-gonzo Prompt: Arthur walks in on them in the shed

She was worried about him. 

He was up early, again. Three days in a row, since Fred's funeral. She was also having trouble sleeping, which is why she'd heard him sneak downstairs.

Hermione was finding it difficult not to just confront him about it, now that they were together.

This won't do.

After searching through the house, by the pond, and the Quidditch pitch, she was stumped—until she spotted the ramshackle shed behind the Burrow.

She quietly entered. Ron's outline was visible in the dawn light, his shoulders slumped, facing away from her. He seemed to be tinkering with something.

Hermione stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his back, causing him to flinch.

"Ron?"

Her voice broke the silence, which seemed to disrupt his thoughts.

"What are you doing up, Hermione? You need your rest."

"I'm worried about you."

Ron shrugged. "I have a lot on my mind."

She rubbed his back, up and down for a moment. He closed his eyes and she could feel him relax.

"That's nice."

"Is it helping, coming out here?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "It's one of the few places I don't associate with Fred, and it's helping me learn…"

He quieted down, but she could see the familiar, telltale blush around his ears. After a moment, she couldn't take it any longer.

"Learn?"

He dropped whatever he was holding and spun to face her, his hands reaching for hers. Their fingers entwined and he gave them a squeeze.

"You know."

Her face was a picture of puzzlement, and he looked surprised. He seemed to think it was obvious.

"I don't, Ron. Tell me."

He shuffled over and she could finally see what he'd been fiddling with on his dad's workbench. There sat a torch, with its batteries removed.

"I'm trying to learn about Muggle things, so I don't make a fool of myself in front of your parents."

If she didn't already love Ron Weasley, that certainly would have done it.

"Oh, Ron."

She reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. He seemed surprised, but his arms quickly wrapped around her waist and he enthusiastically returned her affections.

As they deepened their kiss, Hermione tried to pour everything she was feeling into it. She was already shaky about the trip to Australia and finding her parents, and the fact that he was so confident they'd find them, and was even figuring out how to impress them, put her heart at ease.

They finally had to pause and catch their breath.

"I love you," Hermione professed, before resuming the kiss.

The door suddenly swung open and Arthur strode in, catching them in mid-embrace.

"Oh! Er, good morning, Hermione. I came to tell Ron that breakfast was ready… and uh, of course, that goes for you, as well."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"Right, then. I'll see you two inside."

As he closed the door, Hermione couldn't help but start giggling.

"He didn't seem phased at all."

A fluffy drabble for OTP Day, with much kudos and credit to @otterandterrier for coming up with the idea for said rad holiday!

To be honest, the events of the last half-hour were something of a blur to Ron Weasley.

He had asked, she had tackled him, there had been a fair amount of snogging (on the floor, where they landed), there had been some laughter and a few tears, quite a bit more snogging, and then her overflowing excitement and need to talk about the engagement had dragged them up to their current position on the sofa in their flat: him, still experiencing the aftershocks of deeply-desired success, and her, mind and mouth running a mile a minute with eager planning.

She said yes. SHE SAID YES. To me. Ron Weasley. Actual Ron bloody Weasley. For forever!

The wonderful, almost-improbable chorus seemed to be running in a loop in his head, pushing out any other rational thought. Of course, he hadn’t expected her to say no, exactly, but… still. The release of several months of compounded nerves - and the warm, sweet-smelling lapful of freshly-minted fiancée - made it fairly hard to focus and he forced himself to pay better attention.

“Maybe I should call them?” Hermione was saying. “But it’d be so much more fun to tell them in person! It is getting late, though, and they usually turn in early. We could go over tomorrow, before going to the Burrow,” she chattered happily.

Ron’s face already felt sore from the amount of smiling he had done in the past thirty minutes, and watching Hermione’s enthusiasm was doing nothing to relieve it. “Yeah, definitely we can. But just so you know, I’ve already told them.”

Hermione looked up at him in confusion. “What? How?”

“No, I mean talked with them before. Before I asked you,” Ron clarified.

 Hermione stared at him. “You did?” she asked blankly.

“Well, yeah. Not to ask permission or anything,” he explained hastily, trying desperately to remember, through his happy haze, the particulars of several heated diatribes he had heard Hermione deliver to various unsuspecting and ill-advised individuals who had tried to condescendingly educate her on “traditional” wizarding family values. “I know you’re your own person and you’re not anyone’s, er, cattle.

“Chattel,” she corrected instinctively. “But actually, it amounts to about this same thing.”

“Right. Anyway, your parents. They’ve been pretty good about… well, about us, and about me, considering. My family already considers you family, and I thought your parents should know that they’d be family, too. I wanted them to know what was going on and, uh, hopefully be happy about it,” he finished uneasily as she continued to stare. Oh sweet Merlin’s pants, he knew he wasn’t completely up on muggle customs - had he committed some kind of inexcusable blunder? “Was that mphfk…”

Any further temporizing was forcefully cut off by Hermione’s lips, applied forcefully in one of his very favorite ways. She pulled back after a few moments, still gripping the front of his shirt tightly in her balled fists.

“You wanted my parents to feel included; you know how much that means to me,” she said wonderingly, looking at him with watery eyes. “And you remember what I said to that miserable harpy!”

“‘Course I do. She looked like she swallowed a dungbomb, it was wicked.” He eyed her carefully. “So that was an OK thing to do?”

“More than OK. It was lovely.”

Ron barked out a laugh. “Actually, it was bloody terrifying,”

Hermione smiled at him knowingly. “So,” she began archly, “do I get the pleasure of announcing this at all, or does everyone else already know?”

“Well, George knows, because he saw the ring box. Long story,” he added darkly. Hermione lips twitched at the look on his face. “And I might have mentioned it to Harry. But they only knew it was going to happen eventually. They didn’t know about it happening now.”

“Harry!” she exclaimed, jumping up and tugging on his arm. “We’ve got to tell Harry first. I think he and Ginny were going out tonight, do you think they’re home?

Ron tipped his head back and forth exaggeratedly, pretending to consider. “Mmmm, maybe. You know Ginny likes to drag him out dancing. Better give it a bit, just to make sure.” He let Hermione pull him up, wrapping his arms around her body tightly. ”In the meantime, I think we’ve got a bit more celebrating to do, if you’d care to follow me?” he asked, inclining his head toward their bedroom and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione shook her head at his cheesiness, but the smile she gave him was genuine. “Yes, I will.”

Drabble #3 in the Kisses Drabble series, part of the OTP Day celebration. Prompt requested by @otterandterrier: There are prohibited kisses, true ones, based on this prompt/poem list.

Happy OTP Day! 

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Hermione said, nervousness and excitement showing up as a fast heartbeat and a knot on her stomach. She wrung her hands together as he discarded his traveling cloak in a swift motion, careless as it fell to the ground into a heap.

"To be honest," Ron laughed as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, "neither can I."

She put her hands on the top of his arms, right on the curve of his shoulders, squeezing them to release more of the jittery energy quivering through her fingers. She rested the weight of her body against him, the contact comforting enough to entice a soft smile on her lips. She stretched up to reach for a quick kiss, the contact helping dissipate most of her reservations. Most.

"I should not be doing this," she insisted, more out of a sense of righteousness now than true objection, to then kiss him again. "There are rules against it."

"You know what they say about rules," he argued, proceeding to kiss her jaw and the line of her neck. "Head Girls can break them."

"That is not… Head Girls… Ron!" she complained, her eyes closing as the sensations awakened by his lips became too distracting to keep her argument straight. "McGonagall would expel me if she found out!"

He pulled back to sternly look at her face, his eyebrows creased and his lips set in a smirk. "She would not. She loves you," he stated as if he were explaining to a five year old. "Hell, why do you think she told you which spells she used to close off the Room of Requirement? No way that was just a slip. She planned it so that you could research them and break them. She knows only you would be able to do that. She knows you wouldn't tell anyone. She knows that you'd keep me in check and not let me sneak in the castle enough to actually affect your performance. Why do you think she didn't seal the painting's passage? Besides, she knows how busy I am, too."

"Please. You're making it sound like she wants us to sneak in these moments together. I assure you she does not!"

"She so does," he laughed again, and she could see the glint in his eyes telling her he was not as much convinced of this as enjoying that he could wind her up.

"Absolutely not. This is prohibited, Ron!"

"And yet, here we are."

"I still don't know how you convinced me to do this."

"Oh, but you forget," he continued, resuming his light kisses. "You were the one doing all the planning. You were the one to suggest it, even."

She chuckled then, exasperation and memories and love diffusing her resistance. "Cursed be your charm," she joked, her fingers relaxing now and traveling up his neck to thread through his hair.

"You love it," he whispered against her temple, his arms squeezing her closer to him. He bent to kiss the corner of her lips, to then look to her again. "You love me. You would not have suggested this if you didn't."

What do you know? I managed to write something new for OTP Day after all! Kudos to @otterandterrier for the OTP Day concept. And love and happiness to you all.

Han and Wedge like to compare notes, sometimes.

Han smiles suddenly when they’re out having a drink. Wedge recognizes that look.

Han turns to him. “That feeling –“

“The one – when they’re just checking to see that you’re there?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Wedge smiles. “I like that one.”

“Me too.”

When you’re in love with a Force-sensitive person – or maybe it’s just a Skywalker/Organa twin thing, who knows – sometimes you feel something brush against you. A sense of being loved, being seen, and a little spark of delight that they’ve found you, that you exist in their universe.

There are other feelings like that, feelings that no one else understands. That bond that happens during lovemaking, the sense that the boundaries between you and your beloved have fallen away, that you exist as yourselves and as one at the same time. Those times when you feel like maybe they’ve given you a touch of the Force, granted you the ability to say things to them and know their thoughts without ever speaking.

You also know better than most the burdens of that power. Feeling too much, having the pain of the world come at them in waves. Dreaming things that no one should ever have to see. But you also know how to pull them back into the world, keep them from being swallowed up in their own heads. That’s the real Dark Side, you think.