This is my first time asking something but could you do a Ron weasley x reader where they both are Quidditch players maybe different houses even!!
and they have fun in the quidditch closet! (fluff or smut whatever you want!!)
The most smut i will do is PG-13 lmao, we are a family friendly blog over here. Am I good at writing anything remotely smutty? No. so this what you get.
This was going to be the worst practice ever, you've been begging for friendly matches to stop since you got on the team but they never were quite friendly. The last friendly game was against Slytherin and they did not hold back. You walked out of that practice with a black eye and a sprained wrist. At least this was just for fun, and since having fun was one of two reasons you wanted to do quidditch in the first place you try to make the best of it. Especially since the other reason is on the team you're playing against.
Hurrying out of your dorm you stumble your way to the quidditch field, struggling to lug your equipment around the campus. “Need a hand?” A deep voice spoke over your head. Ron.
“I’m fine.” you said, your broom in one hand and an overstuffed duffle in the other, all dragging behind you.
“Clearly,” the sarcasm in his voice was obvious. Without warning the bag was lifted out of your hand and you were free to hold your broom without it touching the floor.
“You know if you keep dragging it like that you're doing to damage the bristles on the broom.”
You laugh, “what's that gonna do? Make it less aerodynamic?” you ask sarcastically.
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Or you know what you should probably keep dragging it, it'll make it easier to beat you.”
“Please you don't need the help, I don’t try at these things.” Trying to keep up with Rons strides proved to be a bit of a challenge. He was walking at a lethargic speed but the length of his steps were worth 3 of yours.
“That's too bad I was looking forward to playing you,” he said through a smile. You felt your face grow hot. “And a friendly game means you won’t kick my ass.”
You laughed, “what makes you think I would kick your ass at all?”
“Your track record,” you looked at him confused. “Do you really not remember? First year? And Second, third and fourth?” You shook your head. “Well I guess the trauma seared it into my memory,” he chuckled.
You rolled your eyes, “oh don't be dramatic. I never did anything that bad.”
Still smiling, Ron looked down at you for the first time since you started walking, “No, just tackled me a lot.”
“In first year? When I was learning how to fly? You still remember that?” you shouted mortified as the flood of embarrassment came rushing back.
“When your crush lands on top of you, your 11 year old boy brain tends to think about it a lot.” he laughed.
“Wasn't it obvious? I nearly failed every class we had together because I was so busy staring at you.”
You tried your best to remember your first year classes, but any of Rons “obvious” behavior was not something your first year self ever picked up on, “I can safely say I didn't notice.”
“Why did you think I needed so much help in every subject?”
“You're an idiot?” you asked through a muted laugh.
“No, I just spent every class paying attention to you instead of the material. So when you practically obsess over someone and they continuously struggle to balance on a broom, you hope to be put in a position that you might end up with said person on top of…” his voice tapered off. Cheeks red, refusing to make eye contact. He clearly didn't mean for that word vomit to come out, but up until he stopped talking you assumed those feelings had stopped after the first year, but now you're not so sure.
“So what about second, third and fourth year?” you tried to move the conversation along wanting to casually move past what Ron just said, he was clearly embarrassed and you didn't want to make things worse.
The two of you reached the quidditch field, the sight of fluttering robes and the distant echoes of laughter filling the air. Ron scratched his head, and avoided your gaze. "Well, second year was all about the dueling club," he began, trying to regain composure. "Remember when I was petrified? You visited me in the hospital wing. I was so out of it and used to being tackled that I thought you were going to hex me."
You chuckled at the memory. "As if I would hex you. Besides, I couldn't resist visiting the famous Ron Weasley,” you put on a mocking tone, “you were always up to something.”
“I still am.” he mumbled under his breath. Clearing his throat “in third year I convinced myself you hated me and fourth year, well I spilt my drink on you at the yule ball so I was certain you hated me.”
You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Oh my god,. How could I forget?” the Yule ball was a bottle of embarrassment you did not want to revisit. No one asked to go with you and the moment you thought a certain ginger was going to ask you to dance he spilled his drink all over you, “You know I stole that robe from professor sprout?”
Ron stopped in his place, “That was Sprout’s?” he raised his voice in shock.
“Yep,” you chuckled, “Do you even remember what it looks like?”
“Of course I do!” he exclaimed, before calming himself down, “Although in my memory it’s covered in fruit punch.” Ron continued walking to bring your stuff over to where your team was setting up. You noticed how much slower he’d gotten, it was much easier to keep up.
“I technically didn't steal it, I just borrowed it and had my dormmate alter it a bit.”
“Well they did a bloody good job, you looked hot.” Ron said before he could stop himself, “I-I mean,” he stuttered, “you looked good.” changing his tone.
You smirked at Ron stopping in the middle of the field. "Hot, huh?" you teased, enjoying the rosy tint that crept across Ron's cheeks.
Ron stumbled over his words, "No, not hot. Definitely not hot." trying to backtrack. Your face fell slightly, making him panic even more. “Not that you're not hot! You’re so hot it's crazy!”
Suddenly, in the midst of their walk, Ron tripped over a loose cobblestone and by instinct grabbed you for balance. But instead of regaining his footing, the unexpected momentum sent both of you tumbling forward.
As you crashed to the ground, and somehow you found yourself sprawled on top of Ron, his laughter echoing yours in the crisp air. "You definitely need balance training,” you quipped through laughter, but he wasn't laughing. Your duffle had been flung above his head, and his hands had instinctively grasped for you, firmly planted around your waist, and for a moment, you both lay there, catching your breath and sharing a moment of sheer hilarity.
Your laughter subsided, replaced by silence as you gazed into each other's eyes. “Just like old times, eh?” You tried to lighten the tension. He didn't reply, lost in your eyes seemingly unable to speak. “Ron? Are you oka-”
“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted. Rushing the words as if he had been building up the courage to speak.
“On the field?” Ron shot up, nearly shoving you off of him. He quickly picked up your things and tried to avoid eye contact. This time he picked up your broom as well and we was off to your team's changing rooms to drop your things off. This time his pace was far from lethargic, he may as well have been running, that would be the only way you could ever keep up with him. “Ron?” you shouted as you jogged after him trying to catch up.
Once you got to the changing rooms your team whispered at the sight of gryffindors keeper in their rooms. “Here you go,” dropping your things on the side and rushing out. You grabbed his arm. He was red and looking anywhere but your eyes. Your team began filling out the room to begin warming up as they called you to hurry and get dressed.
You dragged Ron further into the room, “Listen Ron-”
“You don't need to say it, I'm sorry. It was an accident and it'll never happen again. The last thing I ever want to do is make you uncomfortable.” he was rambling, “and you can ignore what i said, i saw a pretty girl on top of me and i wasn't thinking. Not that I think you're pretty! Not that you're not pretty! Oh god-” you crashed your lips into his, an effective way to shut him up. He was tense with surprise before melting into the kiss as you pulled him closer by his shirt, his hand cupped your face, his arm wrapped around your waist drawing you in. He turned you, pinning you against the wall as his kiss deepened. His knee rose up to rest between your legs as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
The whistle blew outside, pulling you away from the kiss as you hear your captain shouting your name. You sigh disappointedly. You turn back to Ron, who was staring at you, you giggled nervously, “what?”
“I take it back, I think you're very pretty.” You smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.
