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Author: [off with Luna to look for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks]
Recipient:
shy_of_reality
Title: Weasley Sweaters Aren’t Just for Weasleys Anymore
Pairing: Ron/Pansy
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
Summary: Ron hates the sweaters that his mother makes for him, but Pansy loves them.
Author's Notes: I’m so sorry that it’s so short, shy_of_reality :( I hope that you enjoy it, though! Huge thanks to my beta for her help ♥
There were a lot of words that Ron could have used to describe the sweaters that his mother was so fond of making him and his brothers – saggy, itchy, and maroon were high on the list – but he didn’t think that the sweaters that his mother made for him could ever be considered sexy until he saw Pansy wearing one.
He had only left her alone his room for a minute – he had been nipping down to the lavatory to wash up – and when he got back, Pansy was standing in front of his mirror, wearing nothing but his sweater and preening.
Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The sweater was far too big for her, and the sleeves were bunched up around her elbows. The hem hung to just below the curve of her backside, and she had one hand on her hip as she admired herself.
“P- Pansy…”
She spun around, eyes glittering, and posed for him, her legs slightly apart and the sweater hanging down around her hips like an extremely short (and extremely woolly) dress. “I found this under your bed. Why didn’t you ever tell me that you had all these sweaters?”
“My mum makes them.” His face must have been positively crimson. “They’re awful.” He avoided her eyes – he could only imagine that she was going to mock him for both the ridiculous sweaters and the fact that he actually kept them when they were so horribly ugly.
But she didn’t.
She spun around and around in the mirror, her short dark hair fanning out, and she held her arms out to the sides to admire herself from all angles. Ron watched her with a combination if interest and arousal – her legs looked really good under that sweater.
“I don’t think they’re that ugly at all,” she said at last, with the air of a judge delivering a final and unarguable verdict. She stretched her arms high above her head so that the hem of the sweater lifted just enough to show her black knickers and she smirked. “I’d have taken them off your hands. I really think maroon is my colour.”
“Yeah, well, it looks good on you…” Ron was finding it very difficult to speak and Pansy snickered. She pulled down the corners of the sweater so that it almost covered her upper thighs and shimmied a little.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do…”
She strutted forward and looped her arms around Ron’s neck.
“I bet,” she whispered, voice low, “that it would look even better if you took it off of me.”
Ron couldn’t help laughing (really, he’d never heard anything so silly-sounding before in his life) but Pansy didn’t laugh. She pushed him down onto the bed and her eyes shone almost dangerously.
“I really like it, Ron,” she whispered. “I think you should let me keep it.”
“Fine,” he said.
“Anything,” he said.
“Just so long as you kiss me right now,” he said.
And Pansy complied.
Recipient:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Title: Weasley Sweaters Aren’t Just for Weasleys Anymore
Pairing: Ron/Pansy
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
Summary: Ron hates the sweaters that his mother makes for him, but Pansy loves them.
Author's Notes: I’m so sorry that it’s so short, shy_of_reality :( I hope that you enjoy it, though! Huge thanks to my beta for her help ♥
There were a lot of words that Ron could have used to describe the sweaters that his mother was so fond of making him and his brothers – saggy, itchy, and maroon were high on the list – but he didn’t think that the sweaters that his mother made for him could ever be considered sexy until he saw Pansy wearing one.
He had only left her alone his room for a minute – he had been nipping down to the lavatory to wash up – and when he got back, Pansy was standing in front of his mirror, wearing nothing but his sweater and preening.
Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The sweater was far too big for her, and the sleeves were bunched up around her elbows. The hem hung to just below the curve of her backside, and she had one hand on her hip as she admired herself.
“P- Pansy…”
She spun around, eyes glittering, and posed for him, her legs slightly apart and the sweater hanging down around her hips like an extremely short (and extremely woolly) dress. “I found this under your bed. Why didn’t you ever tell me that you had all these sweaters?”
“My mum makes them.” His face must have been positively crimson. “They’re awful.” He avoided her eyes – he could only imagine that she was going to mock him for both the ridiculous sweaters and the fact that he actually kept them when they were so horribly ugly.
But she didn’t.
She spun around and around in the mirror, her short dark hair fanning out, and she held her arms out to the sides to admire herself from all angles. Ron watched her with a combination if interest and arousal – her legs looked really good under that sweater.
“I don’t think they’re that ugly at all,” she said at last, with the air of a judge delivering a final and unarguable verdict. She stretched her arms high above her head so that the hem of the sweater lifted just enough to show her black knickers and she smirked. “I’d have taken them off your hands. I really think maroon is my colour.”
“Yeah, well, it looks good on you…” Ron was finding it very difficult to speak and Pansy snickered. She pulled down the corners of the sweater so that it almost covered her upper thighs and shimmied a little.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, I do…”
She strutted forward and looped her arms around Ron’s neck.
“I bet,” she whispered, voice low, “that it would look even better if you took it off of me.”
Ron couldn’t help laughing (really, he’d never heard anything so silly-sounding before in his life) but Pansy didn’t laugh. She pushed him down onto the bed and her eyes shone almost dangerously.
“I really like it, Ron,” she whispered. “I think you should let me keep it.”
“Fine,” he said.
“Anything,” he said.
“Just so long as you kiss me right now,” he said.
And Pansy complied.